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favefandomimagines · 1 day ago

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I Know Places (r.c)

Summary: Y/N has always been the peacekeeper in JJ’s life. Whereas JJ was the chaos in hers. And they only ever had each other. When Rafe finds himself in a sticky situation after a dangerous encounter, Y/N unexpectedly becomes his lifeline. Drawn to her compassion and strength, Rafe tries to change, but his past mistakes—and JJ’s disdain for him—complicate everything.

AN: I’m starting a Rafe Cameron series!! I’ve been going back and forth between a traditional series or an SMAU series. Let me know what you guys think!

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting the Outer Banks in hues of amber and gold. The Pogues were gathered at the bait shop, wrapping up their day. Y/N Maybank leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she watched her twin brother JJ count the day’s earnings with uncharacteristic focus.

"Seriously, J," she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You’ve been staring at that cash like it’s gonna sprout legs and walk off. What’s the holdup?"

JJ glanced up, his blue eyes sparkling with the mischief that seemed to define his existence. "Just making sure we’re not short, sunshine. John B’s not exactly forgiving when it comes to missing cash."

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. It was always like this with JJ—him playing the charming troublemaker and her trying to keep him grounded. Being twins meant they shared everything: a very messed up childhood, an unspoken bond, and a deep understanding of each other’s flaws and strengths.

Where JJ was impulsive and wild, Y/N was pragmatic and quick-thinking. She’d spent years trying to be his voice of reason, the one who pulled him back from the edge when his temper or recklessness threatened to get him in trouble. But it wasn’t a one-way street. JJ had long since appointed himself her protector, ready to throw himself into the fire to keep her safe.

"Y/N’s off-limits." That was the unspoken rule on the island, one everyone seemed to understand. Hurt her, and you’d answer to JJ Maybank—and no one wanted that.

But Y/N wasn’t just JJ’s sister. She was her own person, and she had a way of disarming people that JJ envied. Everyone liked her, even Topper Thornton, though he’d never admit it. She had this ability to make anyone feel at ease, but she was no pushover. Y/N could be a firecracker when needed, her sharp tongue and quick wit making her a force to be reckoned with.

And JJ had no issue reminding everyone.

"Remember last summer?" JJ said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. "When Topper called me a loser, and you laid into him in front of the whole dock?"

Y/N smirked, leaning her elbows on the counter. "Someone had to teach him some manners. You were about two seconds from throwing him into the water."

JJ laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "You’re lucky everyone loves you. If it were me, I’d have ended up in cuffs."

"That’s because I use words, J. You use fists."

JJ shrugged, grinning. "Same difference."

Their banter was interrupted by Sarah Cameron strolling into the shop, her blonde hair catching the light of the setting sun.

"Party on the beach tonight," she announced, her voice light but insistent. "Big one. First of the summer. You guys coming?"

The Pogues exchanged glances, the exhaustion from their day already fading.

"Beach party? Hell yeah, we’re going," JJ declared, slamming the cash drawer shut.

Y/N hesitated, her stomach twisting slightly at the thought. She wasn’t a fan of big parties, especially ones where Kooks, Pogues, and Tourons all mingled. The lines blurred too much, and it always felt like trouble was just around the corner.

But she couldn’t say no when the rest of the group looked so excited.

"Fine," she said, feigning nonchalance. "But if this turns into a Kook-Pogue brawl, I’m not breaking it up."

The beach was alive with music and laughter when they arrived, the crowd a mix of sunburned Tourons, smug Kooks, and carefree Pogues. Y/N stuck close to her brother at first, the unfamiliar energy of the party making her skin prickle. This wasn’t the Boneyard, their turf. Here, they were outsiders.

JJ nudged her, his protective instincts on high alert. "Stick close, alright? I don’t trust these Kooks not to pull something."

Y/N rolled her eyes, brushing him off. "I’m not a kid, JJ. I don’t need you babysitting me."

JJ shot her a look that was equal parts exasperation and concern. "I’m serious, Y/N."

"Relax," she said with a smirk. "I’ll be fine."

Hours passed, the party raging on as the sun dipped below the horizon. While the rest of the Pogues were still going strong, Y/N had had enough. The unfamiliar crowd and overwhelming noise wore on her nerves, and she was ready to leave.

She didn’t really drink so she was completely sober, which could have contributed to her not having fun.

"Hey, I’m going to head home," she told JJ, who immediately frowned.

"I’ll walk you," he offered, but she shook her head.

"No need, I’ll be fine. Text me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come back and pick you guys up."

JJ hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his trust in her. Finally, he sighed. "Be careful, alright? And… I love you, sunshine."

Y/N smiled, ruffling his hair. "Love you too, J."

The night was quiet as she walked toward the Twinkie, parked on the street just outside Tannyhill. Sarah had assured them it was safe—Rafe wouldn’t be home, so there was no risk of running into him.

But as Y/N approached the gate, something felt off. It was wide open, swinging slightly in the breeze. She stopped, her instincts screaming at her to turn around. Then she saw them—three shadowy figures dressed in black, bolting from the side gate.

Her heart pounded as she froze, watching them disappear into the night. Curiosity gnawed at her, overriding her better judgment. She should have called the police and left. But she didn’t. She stepped cautiously up the driveway, her eyes scanning the area.

The door was ajar, the faint glow of the interior lights spilling onto the porch. She pushed it open slowly, her breath hitching at the scene inside. Glass littered the floor, furniture was overturned, and an eerie silence hung in the air.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. No response.

As she rounded the corner into the living room, her stomach dropped. Someone was lying on the floor.

Rafe Cameron.

He was unconscious, blood trickling from a gash on his head. Without thinking, Y/N knelt beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly.

"Rafe," she said, her voice shaking. "Rafe, wake up."

A groan escaped his lips, his face scrunching in pain before his eyes fluttered open. "What... Y/N? What are you doing here?"

"I saw the gate open and... I had a feeling something was wrong. Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" he muttered, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"Don’t move," Y/N ordered, her tone firm. "You could have a concussion."

He shook his head, grimacing. "I’m fine.” Y/N looked at him incredulously. “Rafe, you need to go to the hospital.” Y/N rebutted. “No, no hospital. Just... do what you do for JJ." Rafe replied.

Y/N frowned but helped him up. "There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom," he said, leaning heavily on her as they made their way upstairs.

Y/N kept her hands on his arm and his back, the last thing they both needed was him falling down the stairs and hurting himself even further.

“Sit down.” She told him. Rafe sat on the closed toilet and watched as Y/N grabbed the first aid kit. She didn’t have to come inside, she could have left him. But she didn’t.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable as Y/N cleaned his wound, the closeness between them stirring something unspoken.

"How do I know it wasn’t you and your friends who robbed me?" Rafe asked suddenly, his tone accusatory.

Y/N froze, glaring at him. "If I had, I’d be halfway to Mexico with all the expensive shit you have in this house. Maybe next time, I’ll think twice about helping you.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, muttering an apology.

He never got along with JJ or the rest of the Pogues, that much was certain. Rafe and JJ had fought on multiple occasions, almost always over Rafe flirting with Rafe a little too seriously for JJ’s comfort.

But he was never harsh to Y/N like he was to the rest of them. He always thought that she was too perfect for the Pogues but he never had the courage to act on his feelings.

Y/N finished cleaning the cut, placing a butterfly bandage over it to hold the two sides together. She sifted through the first aid kit and found a travel sized bottle of Tylenol. Y/N took off the cap and handed him two pills.

"Take these and you probably shouldn’t fall asleep. You might still have a concussion. You really should see a doctor." Y/N told him.

"Yeah, well, lucky for me I had you," he said, his voice softer now.

Y/N moved to leave, her emotions a mix of frustration and something she couldn’t quite name.”Lucky for you, I’m a good person.”

"Thanks," Rafe called after her. "Seriously."

She paused at the door. "Just... don’t make me regret it."

As she walked away, both of them felt it—that unspoken shift. And Rafe, for the first time in a long while, was determined to explore it.

Y/N made her way down the stairs of Tannyhill, the eerie silence of the house settling around her. Her hands trembled slightly as she replayed the events of the night in her head. She’d just patched up Rafe Cameron—a man who, until now, had been little more than a looming presence in her world. His blood on her hands, the weight of his injury—it was all too surreal.

She stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her like a slap. She glanced back at the house, the faint light from the upstairs bathroom glowing in the dark. Rafe was still up there, sitting in silence with whatever thoughts plagued him.

“Lucky for me, I had you.”

His words echoed in her mind, and for a moment, she felt the weight of them. Rafe wasn’t someone she thought about often. Sure, she’d seen him around—he was hard to miss, with his sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and the quiet intensity that seemed to follow him like a shadow. But this? Being alone with him, patching him up after what had clearly been an attack, had cracked the veneer of distance between them.

Upstairs, Rafe leaned against the edge of his sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, the cut on his head still throbbing. He popped the Tylenol Y/N had given him and ran a hand over his buzzed hair.

He couldn’t get her out of his head—her sharp wit, the way her voice softened when she realized he was hurt, the way she’d scolded him like he was one of her own friends instead of some Kook she barely tolerated.

“Lucky for you, I’m a good person,” she’d said.

He let out a quiet laugh, the memory tugging at the corner of his mouth. She was something else—bright and unflinching, someone who didn’t cower under his sharp edges or the weight of his name.

And then there was the way she’d looked at him. Not like he was the Rafe Cameron, the Kook king of the island. Or the guy who had beaten up her brother countless times. She’d looked at him like he was just a guy who needed help.

That was a first.

Back outside, Y/N stopped halfway down the driveway, glancing over her shoulder at the gate. The memory of the three shadowy figures flashed in her mind, and she frowned. Who would have the audacity to rob Tannyhill? And why?

She pulled her phone out, debating whether she should call JJ. She knew he’d flip if he found out she’d gone into the house alone—or worse, that she’d been the one to find Rafe. JJ and Rafe were like oil and water, and she could already hear the string of colorful curses her brother would throw at her if he found out.

But she also knew JJ would lose his mind if something happened to her.

Sighing, she shot him a quick text:

Y/N: Made a quick pit stop, heading home now. Don’t forget to text me when you’re ready to leave.

She slipped her phone into her pocket and started down the long driveway. Despite herself, she couldn’t shake the image of Rafe’s face—his guarded expression, the vulnerability in his eyes when he muttered, “Thanks.”

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rudy pankow #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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starryylies · 2 days ago

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What about Si with a reader who's giving him the silent treatment? I feel like at first he'd be like "fine whatever" but after like 10 minutes he begs his princess to talk to him

Silent treatment and Simon

Hii thank you sm for the ask! I loved writing it <33

Sorry if it got a bit self indulgent though.

It’s heavy on comfort so hope you enjoy!

You’ve been ‘off’ Simon could tell something’s going on but he couldn’t pin point why it’s going wrong.

Youve been ignoring him since he came home that night after his deployment, giving him short and curt greetings and replies a contrast to your sweet and elaborated ones.

He thought he’d let you deal with whatever you’re going through without butting in.

But no,

Just no

He couldn’t stand there and watch his baby look so down,

He couldn’t stand not hearing your sweet voice echo in the room.

He couldn’t stand the thought that you’re getting tired of him.

He was an overthinking wreck,

All possible ideas came to his mind as to why you’re ignoring him.

“Maybe she’s tired of me, ‘m a fucking mess aren’t I.”

“Maybe she found someone else, someone her own age. Nah fuck no, she wouldn’t do that. Would she..?”

His mind was going on overdrive and he broke down.

And now he found himself marching up to your shared room where you sat on your bed watching a movie.

He turned off the movie and put you on his lap.

“Love what’s happenin’ whys my baby ignoring me huh? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“Are ya tired of me?”

He croaked out the last question, tears welling up in his eyes.

You looked at Simon as if you’d seen a ghost

“You really think I’ll be tired of you? I’m here thinking yr’ gonna be tired of me” you confessed with tears welling up in your eyes now.

“It’s just that, I know I can be a piece of work sometimes. I probably just make life harder for ya so I thought maybe keeping my mouth shut wouldn’t annoy ya like I annoy others.”

Simon is hurt to hear you say that, how could you think you annoy him. He fights to come home so he can listen to your sweet voice and look at that pretty face.

And who the fuck told you you’re annoying?

He holds it in him to ask that later because he doesn’t want to stray from the conversation going on but he makes a mental note to give them a personal visit when you’re done

“I don’t even know why you’re with me there’s so many people out there who are better, prettier, more competent.”

“I’m nothing si,I’m not the girl you make me out to be. I’m so scared of the day you start seeing me the way I see myself”

Simon felt his heart break in pieces when he heard you say such cruel things about yourself.

How could he feel okay when the love of his life thought so badly about herself

How could he show you you’re the prettiest and the only woman that matters in his life

“Ya fucking stupid?”

He asked curtly, regretting his harsh words the second he spit them out.

“Excuse me?”

“No genuinely are ya fucking stupid, you fucking think I’ll get tired of you- the first and the only thing that’s ever mattered to me?”

“Fuckin’ hell lovie you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen and yr’ important person in my life.”

“Ya think you make life tougher for me? Ever since you’ve come in my life you’ve made it liveable, you made life seem something worth experiencing, I was just blood and guns before I met you, now I’m a person”

“Fuck id kill for you, die for you, do anything for you. You seriously believe I’ll ever get tired of ya? Because if you do I’m sorry to say you’re a fuckin’ idiot”

Tears prickle down your face as you hear his confession,

You’ve been feeling so insecure, so incapable and so unlovable these past months when simon was away, you’d forgotten how much he loves you.

You cried into his chest, gripping onto him and nestling yourself in his arms.

His beefy arms rubbed your back as he cood at you, telling you how much he loves ya and how he will never get tired of you.

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sidneywasfound · 1 day ago

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DOLCE | Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris

SUMMARY; Franco cheated on her. Regretful, he looks for her. She is making a new life, taking revenge for Franco's actions,Knowing exactly how to get on his nerve, and he didn't know with who she would begin this new facet of her life.

WARNINGS; ANGST with a Fluffy ending!, Franco being a dick,Franco cheating,Crying,suggestive themes,talks and mentions of sex but not actual smut,Bad English writing English is not My first lenguage,Song quotes with original lyrics and translation. a little bit of SMAU, not My Best work so be kind

WORD COUNT; 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE; Firstt i wanted to thank you all for your support!! Seriously i love you all ♡ and second, This fic is inspired on DOLCE by Cazzu i've been listening to this song in loop all the day so yeah

Now playing...DOLCE by Cazzu

You remember it as if it were the first time,That warm kiss that Franco gave you every time you arrived,Only this time you were leaving."Speak up and pray if whatever you are about to say is a damn excuse." You said picking up your bag from the floor facing the open the door."i'm sorry...I was drunk and I didn't tell you because-" You shut the door right on his face and with tears in your eyes you walked towards your car.

He didn't even tell you, it happened three months ago, and he didn't tell you?. You opened your phone seeing the photo of him kissing that girl, that girl who said she was just a friend, you even liked her posts and she liked yours.

3 months later...

"I'm better than ever" You said looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, on the counter there was some nail polish and makeup.You sighed and went to your closet,Searching through your dresses you saw a dark red silk fabric highlighting between them, you slowly pulled it out but when you saw the whole piece you quickly threw it back into the closet,a knot formed in your throat and tears didn't wait to fall

"This damn dress..." You didn't even know if that phrase would help you feel better,Franco said it that same night, where he took you to his hotel room and delicately undressed you while repeating that pharse.'This damn dress...'

Your breathing was fast, you quickly grabbed your black tube dress and closed the closet

You went out in that dress, you were going to a club for your friend's birthday so nothing too exagerated. Sitting at the bar you watched your still cocktail on the table,The music made the liquid vibrate a little 'why do i bother in trying?' You said to yourself. You got up and when you turned around you crashed into someone."s-shit... i'm sorry i didn't-" When you look up you saw no one else but Lando Norris himself, how embarrasing you tought, In addition to being hurt by your breakup, you just crashed into Lando

"oh no. Shit how embarrasing!" You covered your face slightly as he laughed. "Don't worry, it was my mistake." You already knew each other, Franco introduced you two,sometimes you greeted each other in the paddock, is Nice to see him for the last time

"Are You ok...?" He said putting his hand on your shoulder, your breathing was laborated and your eyes crystallized."yes shit...I just need some fresh air" He quickly grabbed your arm and guide you all over the place to the exit, where the breeze of air hit you and relaxed your whole body."Thanks..." You said still holding on to his arm

"Someone did something to you?" Lando said grabbing your waist "what? Oh nonono, i'm just a little bit tired..."You said fixing your dress."I think I should go back, my friend is waiting for me..." you said turning towards the door making Lando grab you again."You're not going anywhere like this." Your way of walking was clumsy and you were still holding your dizzy head with your hand.

You sat on the sidewalk and covered your face as you burst into tears,Lando opened his eyes wide and sat beside you putting an arm on your shoulder."what- what's wrong?" He said nervously.

"it's just-" You said as your voice your trembled,honestly you hated seeing how people on Twitter supported Franco 'I'm sure she cheated first' or 'i would've done the same cause she is prettier' or just any bullshit justifying Franco's actions. But you kept quiet, you saw how THAT girl said that there were no broken hearts, that she was just a new girlfriend, not a lover.

And though you didn't want to make any statements for the media, you had reached a limit, a limit that hurt you like a stab in your chest, carrying all the weight and guilt on your back. You just wanted to spit out all your hatred and let off all your steam.

"I'm tired of pretending everything is okay when it clearly isn't!" You said with rage,Your tears fell down your cheeks while Lando pulled you into a hug,pressing your face on his chest.

"is this because of...Franco?" Unable to speak through crying, you nodded."Why don't we go home? We can forget about that dickhead..." Lando said trying to cheer you up, you nodded as he stood up putting his coat around your shoulders.

That night Lando took you in his car to his house, the two of you stayed curled up in his bed looking at the large window that illuminated the room with the moonlight. They stared at each other as you caressed his cheek, without any remorse he pulled you into a warm kiss.

2 months later...

"Te creí,y yo no doy más de una oportunidad"

"I believed you,And I don't give more than one chance "

You looked at your phone and saw how he now acted innocent now, pretending and saying that I was aware of this 'extracurricular' relationship. You looked at yourself in the large mirror and started putting on your makeup, your playlist started playing in the background, A guitar rhythm reached your ears as you continued to look at yourself in the mirror, DOLCE by cazzu began to play.

"Ojalá te dure eso de aparentar. Mujeres bonitas ninguna real"

"I hope this 'pretending' lasts for you. Pretty women, none real"

You remember those afternoons watching the sunset while you cuddle with him tangled in a blanket. How you did sacrifice thousands of opportunities to be with him, leave your country to travel with him for the season.

"Como Yo, que contigo estaba a morir y a matar"

"like me,that for you i was willing to die and kill"

And you saw how she didn't even bother to go see him race,she only posted something if he reaches podium and then just photos on a yacht with him. You actually expected him to realize that you were there from the beginning. And it is better for him to know that if he ever looks for that support from his partner, he won't find it.

"Dudo que una así te vuelvas a encontrar

me voy pero antes me voy a vengar."

"I doubt you'll ever meet a girl like me again

I'm leaving but first I'm going to take revenge"

You headed to your closet to pull out the soft, fine, dark red silk fabric that was sticking out from between the dresses and gave it a Big glance to appreciate it. You wore that dress when you met Franco at an event, it was the dress that made him fall in love with you. You dropped your clothes, leaving you in your underwear, to start putting on the dress.Today was the FIA awards, and you would accompany Lando, to Hard launch your relationship. And why not show off that beautiful DOLCE & GABBANA dress to show him what he's missing? You were having the best time ever, Lando was kind and good, you loved everything about him.

A Besides, it was to be expected that a proud guy like Lando would love to make everyone know that you were his, that he would be getting that dress out of you that night, and he loved knowing that Franco would be mad and jelous. You were waiting for him to come in his luxury sports car and get you, you already felt the sweet taste of revenge on your tongue

You took a big breath as you grabbed your purse,Fluffy dark red coat and fixed your hair before going out.

"yo también sé cómo portarme mal...

y se bien que hacer para hacerte llorar"

"I also know how to misbehave...

and i know exactly what to do to make You cry"

You sighed and turned off the lights in your house, put away your makeup and tidied everything.You sighed nervously and looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time thinking 'This is what he deserves for being a dick...'Reoste And you grabbed your cell phone, turning off the music to put it in your purse, without forgetting to listen another line of the song

"a ver si aprendes a valorar..."

"to see if you learn to value me..."

You smiled and put it in your purse, You heard a horn and went fastly to the door. And there it was, Lando Norris right in front of You "Fuck...You are gorgeous." He said putting a hand on your waist and kissing you,You smiled and walked towards his car."don't get to cocky tonight Norris!" You scoffed getting into the as he laughed."i can't help when i know that this idiot is going to be wanting you all night long" He said getting into the car and putting a hand on your to squeeze your thigh.

When they arrived at the place, the paparazzis started taking pictures of you two like crazy, Lando grabbed you by the waist and posed with you."it's going to be a long night..." It was impossible to ignore Franco's gaze on you all night, especially when Lando noticed it and started kissing you or putting an arm around you. Although it was too funny to see him like that while his girlfriend didn't even notice.

"I really hope that everyone who calls him Casanova or a Flirt realize what an idiot he is, do You think the dates he took me on were his idea?, but of course not!, Do you really think a man like him is a casanova when I had to teach him how to basically have a girlfriend?, I don't believe it...I don't believe it." You said confessing for the first time your thoughts on the situation in a interview after keeping quiet for so long."I hope you know there's a little bit of me in every single part of that person and every time that person does something nice I want you to think, 'Did that really come completely from him?'." You laughed."And now that i'm in a very healthy relationship with my boyfriend i understood how toxic was it when i was with this person...but i really hope he is happy now! and I wish him the best of luck, no hard feelings!".

"se te olvidó que lo que sabes te lo enseñé yo"

"You forgot that I taught you what you know"

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lemonlover1110 · 1 day ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Marriage Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Story Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Attempted Murder, Murder, Smut, Eventual Fluff and Romance

Regret is an overwhelming emotion because no matter how hard you wish to go back in time to undo your mistake, there is no possible way for you to do it. You love your daughter to pieces but she wasn’t planned. You didn’t regret having her but you did regret ever getting with her father and running away from your life.

“The Zenins are a very successful family, and they’re always in the eye of the media so don’t embarrass us.” Your step-mother says as she looks into her compact mirror to make sure her makeup is okay. “They’re really doing us a favor by taking you off our hands.”

You ran away at the age of 18 with your boyfriend. You never got married, but you did end up with a baby when you were 20. Now you are 25. You had to go back to your father and your stepmother because you couldn’t afford to take care of yourself and your daughter. Your boyfriend left you, leaving you with so much responsibility you couldn’t afford to take on. Worst part is that your daughter now asks where her father went.

“Act like a proper lady.” She continues speaking, and you zone out in the backseat of the car. She had forced you to put on a corset and now you could barely breathe. It was unnecessary, but she loves seeing you in pain. You feel like the day will never come to an end, even though it has just started. “And don’t speak unless you’re required to. We don’t want you to scare him off.”

She continues to ramble, making you roll your eyes at each word. It’s infuriating, and your nails dig into your palm and you chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to remind yourself that she’s the woman your father chose. The woman that makes him happy. Although you hate him for it because she’s always his priority. Her happiness always comes before yours which is why he’s marrying you off.

But when you’re married, you’ll tell her off. That’s a plus side of the marriage, probably the only benefit. It’s suffocating in the car, and maybe she is taking all the air or maybe it’s the corset that makes you feel this way. Or maybe it’s the way that you’re just being married off as if you have no value to keep in the family. “They know about Misaki but you better not mention her.”

She finally shuts her mouth and you’re so grateful for a moment. Until you realize where you’re at, and a sigh escapes your lips. You wish to hear your stepmother speak again because you’re convinced that’s better than this.

The mansion is an European style, not one you were expecting. But she knows everything so she speaks to inform you at least. “This isn’t the Zenin’s main house. Their main estate is a couple hours away but they prefer for the engagement to happen around here.”

“Oh… When is this engagement supposed to happen?” You ask as you see a couple different cars. Expensive and foreign cars. It was a mix, and the regular old cars stick out like a sore thumb. Your father parks.

“When do you think? Today. Everyone is here, even the photographers.” She informs you. “The guy you’re engaged to is a pretty big deal in the clan so it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Consider yourself lucky because after the engagement he’ll take you back to the main Zenin state and you won’t have to lift a finger.” Your father speaks which doesn’t ease your nerves. “For the rest of your days you and Misaki won’t ever have to worry about anything.”

“Jinichi Zenin, that’s your future husband’s name.” Your stepmother finally reveals. Your father turns off the car and she’s the first person to open the door and get out. Then your father does the same. You’re the last one left and you feel your stomach turn, as if you’re about to puke.

Your father opens your door and offers his hand to help you out of the car. You take it because without it you feel like you won’t be able to get out of the car. You inhale the fresh air which you thought would help, but you’re proven wrong because this air is different. This air makes everything different.

Your father puts his hand on your shoulder and smiles at you. You can’t smile back. You just can’t because this is all his fault. Because he wants to please his wife, you’re getting married to a man you haven’t had a conversation with before. He walks over to his wife, and they begin to walk to the main entrance together.

You gulp and wipe your sweaty hands on the expensive dress that was bought for this occasion. You have to close your eyes for a moment before taking a step and walking behind them.

“I thought they’d have a butler opening doors and waiting for us outside.” Your stepmother jokes, at least you hope that she’s joking as she rings the doorbell. You wonder how they’re benefitting from this as you wait.

Soon enough the door opens and you get greeted by a man that’s well dressed-up. A man in his uniform. Your stepmother is the first one to enter the house, she walks confidently into the place, she turns to get a good look at that part of the mansion. Then your father walks in, but he isn’t interested in looking around, he’s interested in catching up to his wife.

Then there’s you. Your gaze falls to the floor and you put on a shy smile as you walk into the house. When you finally look up, you notice that there’s not that many people, at least not as many as you expected.

“Naobito.” Your father smiles as he acknowledges the man that is walking over. Your stepmother puts on her best smile, and adjusts her posture, shooting you a glare to do the same. You attempt to be the woman she wants you to be. “Friend.” The man replies. He then looks at your stepmother with a slight disgusted look, and then at you. It’s so easy to differentiate who is who. The man smiles at you, at least you don’t lack looks. “My nephew is upstairs, he’ll come down soon and then we can start. Just a heads up, there’s a couple reporters that will ask about how you two met, and I’m leaving it up to you. Just say you two met at a coffee shop and it was love at first sight. Have been dating for a couple of months. Toji will fuck it up somehow.”

“Toji?” Your father questions. They had previously agreed on Jinichi, so was Naobito playing around? “You’re getting the names confused, I told you to stop drinking booze.”

“No, she’s marrying Toji.” Naobito confirms, and you can’t understand why your father is so affected by this. He’s in shock. Your father has known the Zenins for a long time, so what could Toji possibly have done to cause such a reaction?

“The good-for-nothing that ran away? He’s back?” A tone of offense is clear in your father’s voice. No one notices the man that’s at the top of the stairs, listening to every single word. “There’s no way you’re thinking my daughter is getting married to him of all people.”

“It’s either that or no one at all. I’m not marrying Jinichi, someone who has potential, to a single mother like your daughter.” Naobito says, and your heart nearly breaks and you want to break down in tears. But you remember her words, and act like a proper lady. You don’t smile, you hold your posture and steady your breath so you don’t begin crying. “You want someone who will give a house and pay for everything for your daughter, and we want someone who will fix Toji’s absolutely horrible reputation in the media. He’s ruining the Zenin’s pristine reputation and we’re hoping this engagement can fix this. It’s a win-win situation.”

“I don’t-'' Your father begins but your stepmother discreetly pinches him and he stops. Noaobito’s eyes fall on you.

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re just not fit enough… Maybe a couple years back, when you didn’t have your creature.” He tries his best to seem as if he has good intentions, but his words show who he really is. “Plus it’s perfect. He has a son too, just a couple months old, so not only will he be a stepfather, but you’ll be a stepmother.”

You don’t say anything because it feels as if you have no words left in you, even if you haven’t spoken. There’s a lump in your throat that holds back your tears, and you’re afraid your words will release it and cause you to cry. The fact that you’re thought of as less-than because of your daughter is just something that you can’t wrap your head around. But you still give him a nod in response.

Soon enough he slightly turns and faces the stairs, making you look at them too. Slowly walks down a tall, muscular man with a hostile look on his face. He has mid-length black hair, a few strands fall over his emerald green eyes. What really catches your attention is the scar that’s located on the right side of his mouth. You feel your cheeks get warm.

You hope that he’s your soon-to-be husband only because of the physical attraction you feel towards him. You don’t believe in love at first sight, and you know that no emotions will develop quickly so you can at least hope your husband is handsome. He reaches the last step and then he’s on the first floor. He walks over to you.

“Toji.” Naobito says. “Why did you take so long?”

“Sorry, Megumi just took forever to fall asleep. He’s such a crybaby.” Toji lies, hoping that if he complains about his son that you’d be scared and rethink the marriage. He thinks that somehow this is up to you. “He didn’t even let me sleep last night.”

You don’t say anything, you just stare at him which pisses him off. Toji already doesn’t like you but those feelings can change at the end of the day. At the end of the day he’ll either grow to like you or hate you, and it was all up to the final decision.

Naobito calls the butler, and the butler comes with a black box. Toji is forced to take the box, and he puts it in his pocket.

“We’ll give you five minutes to speak to each other, after, come outside to propose. The photographer and reporter are ready.” Naobito instructs before guiding your father and stepmother elsewhere.

Toji and you just stare at each other for a minute or so. Toji decides to get straight to the point, knowing that there’s no way you can read his mind. “I want you to reject the proposal.”

“And I’m not going to reject the proposal. It’s not up to me.” You respond and he doesn’t like your response.

“What do you mean it’s not up to you? You have freewill, don’t you? Reject the proposal.” He insists. “Don’t you have freewill? Instead of forcing me to reject the proposal, just don’t ask.” You tell him, making him click his tongue.

“The problem is if I don’t ask, they’ll kick me out because I’m unwilling to cooperate with them.” He reveals, making you sigh.

“I’m stuck too. If I reject the proposal, my daughter and I will be kicked out.” You answer. “We don’t have any other option here so let’s just try to get along.”

“But you have the option to reject me. That’s easy.” Toji continues, labeling your refusal to cooperate as plain selfishness. He doesn’t really care to think about your position and how you’re trying your best for your daughter.

He glares at you, and you notice but don’t pay attention to it. If he’s unhappy, that’s on him. You’re unhappy too, but ultimately you’re trying to do what’s best.

“Let’s go to the garden, the reporter and photographer are waiting.” You say, and begin to walk. The sound of your heels hitting the floor irritates him.

“Fuck you.” He mutters under his breath. And he hasn’t gotten to know you for ten minutes but he hates you. That’s decided in his heart because you’re not giving him what he wants so he’s forced to follow behind you.

Once you get outside, your eye is immediately drawn to the beautiful flowers that are outside. Your father and stepmother are nearby, talking to Naobito. Their eyes fall on you and Toji who’s behind you.

You begin to walk around the garden, a massive garden that never in your life did you think you would see. The photographer follows behind, trying to be discreet and not spoil the “surprise”. He just acts as if he’s a part of the family.

You notice the red rose bush and you’re drawn to it. You’re tempted to touch the roses, and your finger is so close to the flower but you stop yourself. Toji knows that the reporter is nearby, and he doesn’t want to fuck things up. He has to be romantic .

As much as he doesn’t want this, ultimately he wants you to be the one to fuck things up. Toji puts up an act since his uncle is also watching. He wants his uncle to see that he tried everything and in the end you are the one that doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Toji wraps his arms around you, from behind which catches you off-guard. He can feel the corset through the dress and it makes you uncomfortable. He puts his chin on your shoulder before pressing a kiss on your cheek.

“You look beautiful today.” Toji comments, his voice loud enough for the reporter to hear. You wonder if they think why such an intimate moment is forced to become public. But then again the Zenins business has always been important in the media and they’re attempting to keep a pristine image which apparently can’t be possible because of Toji.

“Thank you…” You respond, taking your hand back because touching the rose just wasn’t that fascinating anymore. A stranger is holding you and you can’t do anything about it. A stranger is going to propose and you’re forced to say yes because if you don’t say yes, you’ll end up in the street with no means to survive with your daughter.

He turns you around to force you to look at him. There’s a smile on his face but his eyes are empty. No emotion behind it because how could there possibly be any emotion behind them? You met perhaps ten minutes ago. He pecks your lips, causing your face to get warm.

“I love you so fucking much.” He says empty words that can be written down and be deemed as romantic. His uncle listens and he’s not pleased with the cursing, but at least it’s not something that’s too bad.

“I love you too.” You reply with a tiny smile on your face. You watch as he gets the little black box that he has in his pocket, out. You begin to wonder why it has to be this way, why can’t they just say it’s an arranged marriage.

The Zenins want it to look as if Toji has an option. That at the end you are the woman he chose and he ended up fixed. They want to look like the perfect family that the media has always sold.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you’re…” Toji has to shut his eyes for a moment. He imagines someone else that’s standing in front of him. When his eyes open his expression grows tender. “You’re the woman I want to see each time I wake up. I want to grow old with you. Ever since you walked into my life, you’ve made it better. You’re such a great mother to our-”

Suddenly he chokes up, tears building up in his eyes when his imagination gives out. But he remains his composure and holds back the tears. His face goes back to being cold and the passionate tone he had was long gone. “What I’m trying to say is, will you marry me?”

He opens the little box, not bothering to get on one knee. He isn’t devoted to you and he certainly doesn’t have any sort of respect. There is no love either. There’s nothing. He’s getting married to a complete stranger and it feels surreal. But the flashes of the camera remind him how real everything is.

“Oh my God- Yes!” You smile and pretend to be excited as you look at the ring. He takes the diamond ring out of the box and slips it on your ring finger. What are you supposed to do next?

Your hands wrap behind his neck and you peck his lips. You notice the flash of the camera and you act surprised at the photographer. You look back at your now fiancé and then at the photographer.

“So this is why you have been acting so mysterious!” You say. You’re quickly approached by another man. He wears a white sweater, black jeans and glasses.

“If it’s not too much of a hassle, may I ask a couple questions?” The man is quick to say. He clears his throat before scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I suppose I should congratulate you first.”

“It’s alright.” You assure him. “Although we would like a couple minutes alone, and then we can answer questions.”

“Alright, we’ll be waiting inside.” The man responds with a smile. The photographer and him walk inside and you’re left behind with Toji. Once they’re in the house, Toji asks the question he had forgotten to ask.

“What’s your name, again? Naobito told me but I don’t remember.” Toji speaks, making you roll your eyes. You tell him your name. “Well, I’m Toji Fushiguro.”

“Fushiguro?” You look at him in confusion. You have understood that he is a Zenin, but then again you never really got to know who of his parents was the Zenin. He just nods and you don’t think about it for too long. “Alright…”

“So we met at a coffee shop and it was love at first sight… How old is your son?” You tell him, and he furrows his eyebrows.

“What does my son’s age have to do with any of this?” He replies with a nasty tone.

“It’s due to the time we have been together. If we’ve been together longer than the time your son has been alive, you’ll be labeled as a cheater.” You explain. “This is all to clean your family’s reputation.”

“They’re not my family.” Toji is quick to say. “But he’s nine months old.”

“What happened with his mother?” You innocently ask and he gives you a nasty look.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He’s clearly angry by the question, and you’re tempted to apologize but you don’t. You don’t think you should because this is information you have to know sooner or later since he is your future husband.

“Well then we have been together for eight months.” You inform him and he shakes his head.

“For five.” He responds. “We’ve been together for five months.”

“Alright then, let’s go inside.” You begin to walk inside and he follows behind. You get back into the mansion and sigh before walking to the reporter.

“We’re ready.” You announce and the man nods, as he gets his notepad and pen ready.

The man looks at all the questions he has written down. Something that should be easy to paint Toji and you in a good image. He then realizes that he hasn’t even introduced himself.

“I’m Jin Itadori.” He smiles and you smile back at him. Toji doesn’t care to smile.

“Well Mr. Itadori, it’s nice to meet you. We’re ready for any questions that you have for us.”

#[Matrimony]#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fanfic #knight toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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babydollslibrary · 2 days ago

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QUESTION…? — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

published: February 4th, 2023

summary: in which Quinn and sunshiny good girl, y/n, have harbored feelings for each other for a while. but when they finally hookup, Quinn leaves in the middle of the night and let’s y/n believe maybe it was just a one night fling.

specific lyrics: “good girl, sad boy.” and “did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room and every single one of your friends was making fun of you but fifteen seconds later they were clapping too? then what did you do? did you leave her house in the middle of the night?”

warnings: kinda steamy but no NSFW. profanity.

not my gif

contrary to popular belief, i’m not oblivious to the irony of Quinn Hughes and i being best friends. the optimistic, always happy, constantly smiling hopeless romantic being best friends with the pessimistic, always looks miserable, rarely smiling hockey player? yeah, it’s baffled our other friends for years.

but when asked, i can’t really explain it. Quinn and i just click. we know what makes the other happy, or sad, or angry. it’s easy for us to be around each other. and we’re understanding of each other. i don’t push him to talk, and he’s one of the rare few who will just sit and listen to me ramble without asking me to shut up. as like all best friends we’re really close. we like to think we have no secrets. that we tell each other everything.

but, i have one.

i’m in love with my best friend.

i never meant for it to happen. when we became friends, i was actually glad to finally meet a guy that just wanted to be friends. no underlying motives, no moves being pulled. just friends. but eventually my feelings changed. it wasn’t all at once, like i read about in my romance novels. no. the changes were gradual. it started slowly, with me seeking him out more than my other friends. then it turned into getting butterflies in my stomach when we touched, no matter if we were holding hands, linked arms, or if i was just sitting close enough to him on the couch that our thighs touched. at first i chalked it up to him just being my best friend, but then the dreams started happening. dreams where he and i were dating. and eventually sleeping dreams turned into daydreams. and then i finally realized my true feelings. i’m in love with my best friend.

i’ve spent the better half of our four year friendship hiding my feelings from him, too scared that confessing might ruin our friendship. he’s never given me any reason to assume that he feels the same way, so i keep my feelings locked in a box in the back of my mind, only let free when i’m alone and daydreaming about what life would be like if we were more than friends.

i’ve since then gone on several dates with numerous guys, trying to find someone who makes me feel the way Quinn does, but it’s been a moot effort. every guy has been missing the spark that i feel between Quinn and i. and i always end up back to the beginning, spending my nights hanging out with my best friend and just hoping i’m strong enough not to spill my secret.

which brings us to now, where i’m mentally screaming over how good Quinn looks in his white button down shirt and black dress pants. it’s new year’s eve, and most of the Canucks team, their partners, and a few friends are lounged around Elias’s house. with five minutes until the new year, i’m sat on the couch clutching a glass of champagne, my sixth of the night, and animatedly chatting with Quinn, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. but i’ve learned by now that that’s just his resting facial expression.

“alcohol makes you chatty, doesn’t it y/n?” Elias laughs from his spot in the chair a few feet away from us. i stop talking, letting out a weak chuckle. it’s not like i’m unused to comments like that, i’m often told that i talk a lot, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little.

“it does. but i like it. i like listening to her talk.” Quinn defends. my heart flutters in my chest at his words. a blush coating my cheeks. “now back to what you were saying, y/n.”

i blink a few times, just staring at my best friend in front of me before i begin to speak.

“oh. i was just saying that i think my parents want me to visit soon. but i was done speaking.” i shrug.

“no, you weren’t.” Quinn’s brows furrow and he wears a scowl. “you were still talking.”

“well, i was about done anyways. but i can keep talking.” Quinn’s lips quirk in a half smile and he nods for me to continue. “well, i do think the concept of new years is pretty weird. and some of the traditions that people have are weird as well. like-”

i’m cut off by the simultaneous chants of the people surrounding us. counting down from ten. i smile and my face lights up. i love this part of the holiday.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!” i sigh as i watch couples pair off, ready to kiss their other half a happy new year, a longing look in my eye. i feel Quinn shift beside me, his thigh pressing closer into mine. but my eyes are locked on my friends all smiling at their significant others, so happy and in love. i want that.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” i’m snapped out of my thoughts by a hand grasping my chin. my face is turned and i’m able to catch a quick glimpse of Quinn’s eyes before my lips are covered by his. his hands move to cup my face, his lips moving over mine. it takes me a second of hesitation to realize what’s happening and my heart speeds up. i snap out of my trance in time to move my lips, locking us into a slow and passionate kiss.

“GO HUGGY! FINALLY!” i hear someone yell and everyone laughs, cracking jokes about how long it took for us to kiss. Quinn pulls back to lock eyes with me, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. he gives me a small smile before leaning in and capturing my lips with his once more. our friends start clapping and i smile into the kiss, making him pull away once again. this time he pulls away completely, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him.

what did that mean? does he like me the way that i like him? or was it just a midnight kiss between friends? is this gonna change anything, or are we just going to move past this like it didn’t happen? does he realize how much this means to me? my head is swarmed with questions that i may never know the answers to.

i stay glued to his hip for the rest of the night, my head still reeling from the kiss. not long after midnight, everyone starts to head home, and i follow Quinn out to his car so he can give me a ride. he opens the passenger seat for me, helping me in before shutting it and jogging around the front of the car, slipping into the drivers seat. the drive is unusually quiet, my usual chattiness drifted away after our kiss. instead i’m stuck inside my own mind, still wondering what it meant. when he pulls up and parks in a spot outside my apartment complex, he turns to look at me, and i manage a smile.

“you okay?” he asks. “you’ve been quiet.”

“yeah, i’m fine. just figured i’d give you a reprieve.” i joke. his expression tells me he didn’t appreciate my attempt.

“don’t do that.” he says.

“do what?”

“don’t let what Elias said get into your head. i love that you never stop talking. i like seeing you happy.”

okay he needs to stop talking before i do something monumentally stupid. like kiss him again.

“don’t worry, Quinny. i’m not gonna go silent on you. i was just joking.” i smile. “who else can i talk about all my star wars theories with, without them calling me a nerd?”

he laughs and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“you wanna come in and drink some wine while i tell you about how i think Palpatine is actually Anakin’s father?” i ask, and he nods.

“what else would i do?” he jokes sarcastically.

we get out of the car and Quinn leads the way up to my apartment, having been here hundreds of times in the past four years. i unlock my door and call out to my cat that i’m home. within seconds she comes around the corner, and Quinn scoops her up in his arms, cradling her like a baby. i listen to him coo at her as i grab a bottle of wine off my kitchen counter and pour two glasses.

within a few minutes, Quinn and i are sat on my bed, drinking our wine as i lay my feet in his lap and talk to him about my theory. Quinn listens intently, as if he hasn’t already heard it a million times, and absentmindedly lays his hand on my ankle, sending a spark up my leg.

“anyways, enough about that.” i finish. “how’s your mom? i heard you on the phone with her earlier. I miss Ellen.”

he smiles, a rare genuine grin at the mention of his family.

“she’s good.” he nods. “she misses you too. keeps telling me to bring you to the lake house this summer.”

“we’ll if that’s your way of offering, then i accept.” i tell him before joking- “i miss my favorite Hughes brother.”

“there’s no way that Luke is your favorite. i call bullshit.”

“you call bullshit every time i say it, but i still remain adamant. he’s the sweetest.” i tease. “he told me last summer that if i ever decide that i like younger guys, he’ll take me out. maybe i’ll finally take him up on that offer.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow, tickling the inside of my ankles as he speaks.

“oh please. he wouldn’t know how to handle you.”

i bark out a laugh and nudge his thigh with my foot.

“and just what is that supposed to mean?” i ask.

“it means that whatever man you finally decide is good enough for you, needs to appreciate you. he needs to love how much you like to speak, and your hopeless romantic side. he needs to appreciate that you always look on the bright side of things, and find a silver lining in everything. he needs to remember that you’re a sunrise person, preferring the beginning of a new day rather than the end, so you prefer your dates as brunch or picnics or going to a museum rather than dinner or a movie. and Luke is not that guy.”

my heart melts at his words. the fact that he knows these things about me and believes that i deserve to find someone who won’t make me compromise those parts of myself.

and there i go, doing something monumentally stupid, because before i can take a second to think before i react, i lean over and press my mouth to his. his lips lock with mine, moving slowly. i open my mouth, letting his tongue roam freely over mine. Quinn grasps my hips, pulling me in closer so that i’m straddled over his lap, and i roll my hips, lightly grinding down onto him, making him let out a groan.

he tastes like red wine and mint, an odd combination, but not a bad one. his hands slip under my top, skimming my bare skin as he settles them at my waist and pulls me closer. my chest is flush against his now, every breath i take making my nipples brush against his chest, sending pleasure driven shivers down my body, straight to my core.

“please.” i whisper against his lips.

“please what, y/n?” his voice is raspy, laced with lust and seduction.

“please Quinn. please fuck me.” i whimper as he pulls me down to roll over his quickly hardening length.

“whatever you want, baby.”

my eyes squint against the light coming in from my bedroom windows as i finally come to. it takes me a couple seconds to remember why i’m naked. and when the memories of the night before flash in my mind, i smile, rolling over in my bed to face Quinn. but his spot is empty. i reach over to feel cold sheets. he’s been gone awhile.

when did he leave? why did he leave?

tears prick at the back of my eyes, but i blink them away. he could just be in the kitchen. rising from my bed, i throw on an oversized t-shirt and some underwear as i glance around my room. his clothes are gone, the only ones left scattered on my floor being my own, sending another sinking feeling in my gut.

i leave my room, walking to my kitchen only for it to be empty. i check my bathroom, my living room, and my guest room, only for all of them to come up empty as well.

he left.

i finally let my tears fall, collapsing on my couch. i thought maybe he liked me, but was last night just an easy fuck for him? did he not want me in the way that i want him? in a relationship sense?

it’s been four days since Quinn and i slept together, and we haven’t spoken or seen each other in those days. it’s not unusual for us to not talk or see each other for a few days, but after our night together, i wasn’t expecting the complete silence. i told myself i would confront him the next time i see him, but the thought makes me anxious.

with the Canucks having two nights off in a row, a lot of them are going out to a bar, and as a close friend of the team, i was invited. Andrei didn’t tell me who all is coming though, so as i walk into the bar right now, i worry over the possibility of being confronted with Quinn.

my eyes roam the bar, searching for my friends, and when i finally spot them, i feel both relieved and anxious. i don’t see Quinn. i make my way over to them, giving hugs and fist bumps as i say my hello’s.

“i’m gonna go order a drink.” i let them know, but as i turn around, i see Quinn, who seems to be returning from the restroom. we lock eyes and he veers course, coming to a stop in front of me.

“hey.” he greets me, pulling me into a quick hug. my arms stay glued to my sides.

“hey.” i say weakly. before i can lose my confidence i speak again. “can we talk?”

Quinn nods and tips his head over towards an empty booth across the room. i lead the way over to it, taking a seat on one side while he takes the seat across from me.

“what’s up?” he asks, and i take a second to study his expressionless face. does he really not know what this is about?

“can i ask you a question?” i ask.

“yeah, of course.” he replies. he lifts the hat off his head and sweeps a hand through his hair before replacing the hat. i swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath.

“why did you leave?” i manage to get out.

“what?”

“that night. why did you leave? i woke up the next morning and you were gone.” i explain. he opens his mouth but i continue speaking. “i just need to know. did it mean nothing to you? because that night meant everything to me. and i was under the impression that it may have meant something to you, but then you left without even saying goodbye and it made me feel…cheap. so i just want you to be honest with me Quinn, did it? mean anything to you?”

Quinn’s nostrils flare and he winces, as if my words were hard for him to hear.

“of course. it meant so much to me, y/n. but it all happened so fast and right after i said those nice things. so, i laid awake overthinking. and i got it into my head that maybe you were just overwhelmed with what i had said and acted on impulse. that maybe it was just one night for you. and i could take that, so i left. i thought maybe that’s what you wanted me to do.” his voice is soft, barely audible over the commotion of the bar, and his words only make me more upset.

“so you didn’t think to talk to me? you just left?” my words are sharp, my tone incredulous. “if you would’ve talked to me then you would’ve known that i really like you, Quinn. i’ve been in love with you for two years. i wanted that night to happen. it wasn’t just a night for me. was the decision impulsive? maybe. but i thought about that happening between us for years. i wanted it. i want you. not just for one night, but forever.”

his hand snakes across the table, clasping my own.

“i want you too. forever. god, y/n, i’ve been in love with you since i met you. but i knew how much you’d been through with past relationships and i didn’t want to push you. and then when i thought enough time had passed, i didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so i took you in any way i could have you. if that was just as your best friend, then so be it. but i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, y/n/n.”

my head reels with his words, thinking back over them. wait what?

“what?” i whisper, my voice shaky.

“if you can forgive me for being an idiot and jumping to conclusions, i’d really like to be your boyfriend.”

my heart races, and i look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity.

“i’d really like that. but you can’t leave me like that again, Quinn.”

“i don’t think i ever want to leave you again.” he tells me. he stands, taking my hand in his and pulling me up so hard that i crash into his chest. he wraps his arms around my waist, leaning down and letting his lips graze mine, smiling. “my mom is gonna freak when i tell her we’re finally dating.”

my head drops back in a laugh before i tease-

“oh no, how am i gonna break this to Luke?”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks

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moonlight-alexia · 11 hours ago

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the questioning hour | steph, tiny & kyra

steph catley x catley!reader x kyra cooney-cross | if you want more for any of my universe pairings etc then keep requesting questions to ask them <3 hope you like it <3

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

What's your biggest fear of the relationship?

Steph: the two pests being together? Is that not concerning for anyone else?

Tiny: aw stephy loves us

Steph: I never said that

Kyra: we know the truth stephy

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Who is more affectionate?

Tiny: Kyra easily

Steph: You don’t even need eyes to see that Kyra is so clingy, needy, affectionate

Kyra: hey!

Tiny: it’s not a bad thing. I like my cuddly, clingy ky

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Most likely to get lost?

Steph: kyra and tiny obviously

Tiny: um steph

Kyra: psa don’t let steph direct if you actually want to get somewhere. She might seem like she has it all together but she can’t direct to save her life

Tiny: when we were in aus she had us drive 2 hours the wrong way before realising. Thought we were gonna have to sleep in the car

Kyra: almost stranded in the middle of nowhere because of steph. Almost didn’t make it back here aliveeee

Steph: you’re so dramatic

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Most likely to get arrested?

Steph: welllll…

Tiny: shut it steph

Kyra: we technically weren’t arrested…

Tiny: just a warning

Steph: I still had to come get you both

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Kyra to Steph] What's the most challenging part of our relationship for you?

Steph: realising my little baby sister isn’t so little anymore she’ll always be that tiny five year old who used to throw the football at me and storm inside because i ‘won’ too many times

Steph: no but honestly? You’re both young, new to serious relationships and I didn’t want to see you hurt each other. Care about you both a lot, but you make each other happy so I can’t complain

Tiny: Ky! Steph admitting to caring about us and not hating our relationship?

Kyra: this is on camera right? Need to keep evidence that this happened

Steph: you see what I have to deal with

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Steph to Tiny] What do you secretly wish I understood better about you?

Kyra: oh getting deep here

Steph: shut up Kyra

Tiny: well, maybe that I’m more than just your little sister. Like being seen as my own person. I love having your guidance and all but I want to make the same silly mistakes you did, learn from doing things and not just because you did it. Let me make mistakes but still be there to catch me when I fall

Steph: I’m so proud of who you’re becoming and I will do better for you. You’re my sister and I will always be there to catch you and hold you when you need it

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Steph to Tiny] What's something that you need from me that you're afraid to ask for?

Tiny: well I was afraid to ask you to not hate Kyra after you found out

Steph: I didn’t hate Kyra

Tiny: eh, could’ve fooled me

Steph: maybe I overreacted a little

Tiny: a little? understatement of the year

Kyra: she doesn't hate me now so that's a...win...yes?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[Tiny to Steph] What's your first memory of me?

Steph: you were like the size of a peanut-

Kyra: so nothing has changed then

Tiny: hey! I’m like several peanuts tall now!

Steph: -you were small and kind of weird looking

Tiny: but…

Steph: no, that’s it. Small and weird looking

#woso #woso x reader #steph catley x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #steph catley #kyra cooney cross imagine #kyra cooney cross #awfc x reader #awfc imagine

101 notes · View notes

hjvi · 3 days ago

Text

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Chris breaks your heart, you revisit your most cherished memories with him in therapy, trying to understand what made you love him—and why it all fell apart.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8.4k

The sterile smell of the therapist’s office clung to the air, an odd mix of cleanliness and something far too clinical. It was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock hanging on the pale blue wall. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, gripping a tissue in one hand and twisting it nervously with my fingers. My therapist, Dr. Callahan, sat across from me in her chair, her expression warm but slightly firm, like she was waiting for me to unravel a ball of string I’d been clutching for weeks.

I stared at the floor, avoiding her eyes. We’d been doing this for weeks now—me, showing up, talking about anything but him. The sessions felt like a game of tug-of-war with my own mind, each side pulling harder but neither winning. The mere thought of saying his name out loud made my chest tighten, my breath quicken, and tears spring to my eyes.

Dr. Callahan sighed gently. "I notice we always seem to steer away from talking about Chris. And I’m not saying we need to dive into that, but I do want to talk about how you're managing your anxiety. It seems like it’s flaring up more than usual.”

That was an understatement. My anxiety had been suffocating, like being stuck in a maze I couldn’t navigate. And the pills—the little pills that kept my head above water—were sitting on Chris’s nightstand.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“They’re... they’re at Chris’s house,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat burned as tears threatened to spill over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold them back. “I can’t go there. I can’t face him.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward. “Okay. Let’s unpack this together. How are you feeling after the breakup?”

And there it was—the question I’d been running from. My breath hitched, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Horrible,” I croaked. “I—I can’t even think about him without crying. I can’t do anything without—”

The tears came faster now, and I wiped at them with the crumpled tissue in my hand. “I haven’t been eating. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything just feels... pointless. Without him, nothing makes me happy. Nothing feels right. It’s like... my life is worthless without him.”

Dr. Callahan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Why do you feel like your life is worth nothing without Chris? What is it about him, about your relationship, that makes you feel this way?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “It’s... everything,” I said finally. “The way he made me feel. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. He made me laugh. He made me feel safe. Every good memory I have—it’s all with him.”

Dr. Callahan nodded again, her eyes steady on mine. “Okay. Let’s start there. Let’s talk about those memories. Let’s figure out what made them special, what brought you joy, so we can help you find that again in your life—even without Chris.”

I nodded slowly, my chest aching. “The first time I met him... that’s where it all started.”

The First Time I Met Him

The quiet hum of Nick’s desk lamp filled the space as I sat cross-legged on his carpet, flipping through my notes for our school project. His room was simple, with posters of bands tacked up on the walls and a faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. Nick sat across from me, scrolling through his laptop.

“You think this is enough to get us through the presentation?” I asked, holding up a neatly written outline.

Nick shrugged. “Probably. You’re, like, way more organized than me.”

I laughed softly and was about to reply when the sharp sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by two unmistakably loud voices. My head snapped up.

“Bro, are you serious? That ref was blind!” one of the voices exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words.

“Blind? You literally tripped the guy, Chris,” the other retorted, their footsteps stomping closer with each passing second.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nick. He rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. My brothers are... loud.”

Before I could ask, the bedroom door flew open, and in came two boys dressed in hockey gear, their faces slightly flushed from the cold. One of them, with dark brown hair and an easy smirk, was clearly mid-argument. The other, though, caught my attention instantly.

He was tall and lean, with tousled, medium-length brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times after practice. His striking blue eyes, full of energy and mischief, darted around the room before locking on mine. Time seemed to pause.

“Oh,” he said, the word barely audible as his jaw slackened slightly. His entire demeanor shifted in a split second—gone was the loud, restless energy from before. Instead, he straightened his posture, his hand awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

Nick groaned. “Chris, get out. We’re working.”

Chris didn’t move. His gaze was still on me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, I broke the silence, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Chris blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh—hi! I mean, hey. What’s up?” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced before clearing his throat. “I’m Chris.”

Nick sighed, clearly annoyed. “She’s here for the project, Chris. Go bother Matt or something.”

But Chris ignored him, a grin creeping onto his face. “What’s your name?”

I told him, feeling my cheeks heat under his intense gaze. His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to seem casual. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said, his Boston accent thick and unfiltered.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick cut in, standing up to shove his brother toward the door. “Out.”

Chris didn’t leave without a fight. He grabbed Nick’s arm, dragging him just outside the room. I could still hear their voices, though they were slightly muffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a girl like her here?” Chris whisper-yelled, his tone laced with urgency.

Nick groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! She’s—” Chris’s voice dropped slightly, as if trying to be quieter, but I could still make out his words. “She’s gorgeous.”

My face burned, and I stared down at my notebook, pretending not to hear.

Nick re-entered the room, looking both amused and exasperated. “Sorry about him. He thinks you’re, like, a goddess or something.”

I glanced up, meeting Nick’s teasing gaze. “What?” I asked, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

Nick laughed. “Chris has a massive crush on you already. Don’t let it go to his head.”

The sound of Chris and Matt bickering down the hall faded into the background as I tried to process everything. I didn’t know what to make of it—this boy I’d just met, with his loud laugh and dazzling blue eyes, who somehow managed to make my heart race without even trying.

First Time You Held Hands The Awkward Spark

It started out as nothing. A quick, careless movement, nothing intentional. But the second Chris’s hand brushed against mine, I felt it. A spark, sudden and completely unexpected, shot through me like static. I froze, my hand hovering in midair, unsure if I should pull away or leave it there. I hadn’t meant to linger, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His fingers were still close enough to mine that the space between us seemed almost too big to ignore.

Chris, as always, was oblivious to the effect he was having on me. He kept talking, gesturing wildly about something—probably sports or something equally loud and energetic—but I couldn’t focus on the words. My thoughts were tangled in the way his hand had touched mine so casually. So naturally.

I could feel the warmth of his skin where it had brushed against mine, and for a second, I wondered if he felt the same thing I did.

“Yo,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the moment. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned, flashing that carefree smile of his, but there was something different in his eyes. Something softer. A shift that made my heart beat a little faster.

“You’re spaced out, huh?” he teased, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing.”

His grin widened, and that was when I realized he was still really close—closer than I’d thought. He moved again, shifting his weight on the couch beside me, and this time, his fingers brushed against mine again. But this time, they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough that it didn’t feel like an accident.

I froze again, my heart thumping in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hand, just a breath away from mine. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous too, but there was an undeniable energy between us now.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Chris turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a nervousness to it that I hadn’t expected. “You good?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was actually asking and not just making conversation.

I nodded, though I was sure he could tell something was off. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words what I was feeling.

He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping a little. “I’m not gonna bite,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can relax, you know?”

His hand shifted closer to mine again, and this time, before I could think about it, I gently placed my hand in his. The moment my fingers curled around his, something clicked—like everything I’d been unsure about, all the nervous energy that had been circling around us, suddenly made sense. His hand fit mine so easily, like it was meant to be there. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something warmer, softer.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There was no need. The contact, the feeling of his hand in mine, was enough to fill the space between us. He didn’t squeeze my hand too tight, but his grip was firm enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t going anywhere. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—the confusion, the tension, the anxiety that had followed me around for weeks. It was just me and him. Just this.

I glanced up at him, and when our eyes met, I saw it—something that wasn’t there before. It was a little spark, a little light, and I could tell it wasn’t just me feeling it. He didn’t look away, just held my gaze, his thumb lightly tracing circles over my palm, sending a new kind of warmth through me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low, but his smile still there, softening the words.

I nodded, and I don’t think I could’ve smiled any wider. “Yeah. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, I really was.

I sat in Dr. Callahan’s office, tracing the edge of the couch with my finger, still unable to meet her eyes. The quiet hum of the room made my thoughts feel louder, but I kept going.

“I remember the first time he kissed me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t like how I’d imagined it—like a movie or something dramatic. It was just... us.”

She leaned in slightly, her calm, steady voice guiding me. “Tell me about it. What was it like for you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the memory come rushing back, the way it always did when I thought of him.

First Time He Kissed You The Moment the World Stopped

The air was thick with anticipation, like a storm on the verge of breaking, as you both sat there in the quiet of his room. The soft glow of the lamp cast a gentle warmth over everything, making the atmosphere feel cozy, intimate. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but everything inside felt suspended, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Chris was close, so close that you could feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you in without a word. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time, you noticed how his eyes had shifted. The usual playful glint was still there, but underneath it was something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. It made your heart beat faster, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

You both sat in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, making your skin flush.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you sure about this?” His words were soft, uncertain, as if he was asking for permission.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart pounding. There were no words, nothing more to be said. It was a question that needed no answer. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes not leaving his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the thoughts, the doubts, the worries. All that was left was him.

Chris didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but purposeful. He seemed to be studying you, as if memorizing every detail before he closed the distance between you. His thumb traced your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, without another word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if you both were testing the waters. His lips were soft, and the warmth of them against yours made everything else in the room seem far away. You could taste the faint mint on his breath, feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he leaned in a little deeper. It was everything—sweet, tender, and oh so careful.

His hand, still on your face, cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment. You felt his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer. Your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow bursts, and you couldn’t help but respond, your lips moving against his with growing confidence.

He let out a soft, barely audible groan between the kisses, a sound so low, so raw, it made your entire body shiver in response. The sound of it sent a spark straight through you, igniting something deep inside. You felt the shift in his kiss, from gentle to hungry, as if he was searching for something deeper—something that only you could give him.

His hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your throat, sending heat radiating through your body. You felt his breath hitch as his lips parted slightly, his mouth moving with more urgency against yours.

Every kiss felt like a spark, igniting a flame inside you that you didn’t know you had. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a silent question, a request, and you parted your lips, meeting him halfway. The kiss deepened, slower now, but with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation of his lips on yours was intoxicating, every touch electrifying, and your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

His hands roamed, exploring the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together with a force that made your heart ache. You could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the way his body seemed to match yours in every movement. Each kiss was like a promise, each breath shared between you was another step deeper into something you couldn’t name but didn’t want to escape.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more intense, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for air, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling in the space between. His lips were swollen, slightly parted, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. That familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes, but it was softer now, more intimate.

“Damn,” he whispered, voice rough from the kiss. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You laughed softly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Yeah, me too,” you breathed, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you just stayed there, your foreheads touching, both of you savoring the silence, the stillness of the moment. And in that silence, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper.

First Time He Wrote You Something

It wasn’t like Chris to do something so... thoughtful. He was always the one to crack a joke or do something spontaneous to make me laugh, but this? This was different.

It started out like any other day. We’d spent hours texting, trading stupid jokes and sending each other random things we found online. But then, a few hours later, I got a message from him that wasn’t like the rest.

“Check your mailbox.”

I stared at my phone, confused. What was he talking about? It was late, and we hadn’t talked about anything that would involve a physical letter. But curiosity tugged at me, and I figured I’d humor him.

I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, my mind swirling with questions I didn’t have answers to yet. The walk to the mailbox felt like an eternity, the cold air stinging my skin as I opened the metal box and found... a single, folded sheet of paper.

I pulled it out, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. Unfolding it, I saw his handwriting, neat but still unmistakably his. The words weren’t rushed, but carefully placed, like he’d taken the time to write this with purpose. I could feel something catch in my throat as I began to read.

Hey,

I’m not great at saying this stuff, but I need you to know. I’ve been thinking about you more than I probably should. When I’m with you, everything just makes sense. You don’t know it, but you’ve got this way of making everything lighter. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself, and that’s not something I can say about a lot of people.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I guess I just want you to know... I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m in it. I just wanted you to know that.

Chris

I stood there, the paper pressed against my chest, not sure what to do with myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he liked me, but hearing it like this, reading it in his words, felt different. It felt real. It felt like something I wasn’t quite ready for, but something I also couldn’t ignore.

I laughed, almost nervously, at how my heart seemed to speed up, the way my chest felt tight, like there was something big happening in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, trying to act normal, but the reality of what it meant settled in a few minutes later. This wasn’t just some fling or casual thing for Chris. He’d put himself out there, and I couldn’t ignore that.

First Time He Called Me His

It was late afternoon, and the park was full of life. A mix of families, groups of friends, and people just lounging around, enjoying the last rays of sun before it dipped below the horizon. Chris and I had been hanging out all day, tossing a frisbee back and forth with some of his friends, laughing and joking around like we always did. The energy was contagious, and everyone around us seemed to be in the same carefree, easygoing vibe.

I had just finished taking a swig from my water bottle, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stood off to the side to catch my breath. The heat of the day had been intense, but the evening breeze was starting to cool everything down. I was leaning against the tree, watching Chris and his friends make stupid jokes and just goofing off, and honestly, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he threw himself into everything—whether it was the game or just hanging out—that made it impossible not to feel alive in the moment.

I was about to head over to join them when one of his friends made a comment. It was a harmless joke, but the second it came out of his mouth, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Yo, Chris, how’s it feel to have such a hot girl with you all the time? Bet she's always making you look good, huh?”

Chris laughed in his signature loud, carefree way, but then, without missing a beat, he shot back, not at all embarrassed to let everyone hear him.

“That’s my girl, yeah? Of course she makes me look good.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made my heart jump in my chest. His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable edge of pride to it. He didn’t even pause to think about it. He didn’t shy away from owning it, letting his friends know that I wasn’t just some girl in the group. I was his.

For a moment, everything around me froze. The world kept turning—the laughter, the noise, the frisbee flying through the air—but all I could hear was the confidence in his voice. I could feel a warmth rush to my face, and I couldn’t help but look at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He was grinning at me, that teasing smirk on his lips, but I could tell by the way his eyes softened that he was serious.

The whole exchange had lasted maybe three seconds, but in that short window, I felt a surge of warmth wash over me. Not from embarrassment or pride, but from the reassurance of knowing he was proud to call me his. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thoughts. Just a simple, confident statement, like he was stating a fact everyone should know. I belonged to him in the most genuine, affectionate way possible.

I chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling of being exposed, but my heart was still racing. It wasn’t a dramatic, over-the-top moment. It wasn’t some grand gesture or a public declaration of love. It was just him, casually stating it in front of his friends, so easily, without needing to make it a big deal. But it meant everything to me.

I could see that his friends had gone back to their own banter, but I stood there for a moment longer, looking at Chris as if he’d just given me something no one else could ever take away. The breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and I felt, for the first time in a long while, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chris walked over, tossing his frisbee back to his friend with one hand, and then, just as he passed by me, his arm casually slid around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his breath brushing against my ear, “that’s my girl.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt them settle deep inside my chest, a quiet claim of ownership that made me feel more seen, more special than I could ever have imagined. I smiled to myself as he pulled me closer, and though the sun was starting to set, I could swear the world had never felt warmer.

Dr. Callahan was quiet for a moment, letting me sit with the memory, but I could feel his gaze on me. His voice broke through the stillness. "It sounds like that was a really powerful moment for you. The confidence Chris showed, the way you felt... secure, loved. It’s understandable why that would stick with you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my knee. I could almost still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the laughter of his friends in the background, but those feelings were starting to blur, slipping into the recesses of my mind like water sinking into the sand.

"Yeah..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It was... easy, you know? It was simple. And I guess that's what makes it hurt now. Because it felt so secure. Like, I didn’t have to question it."

The room felt suddenly too quiet. I felt like I was speaking into the stillness, but it wasn’t just the room that was silent. It was the memory—one that had been so vivid a second ago—now starting to fade, like it was being replaced by something else. Something else that felt like it needed to be said, or maybe something that I wanted to remember next.

The shift was subtle at first. A slight tension in my chest, like a thread was being pulled in my brain, unraveling a different memory. One that felt like it belonged to the same day. It was almost like I could feel it coming, the next scene playing in my mind like a movie that had just begun its second act. The shift in the air, the change in the temperature of the room—like I was leaving behind the warmth of the park for something different, something that wasn’t quite as clear.

The time he took my virginity

The room was soft with dim lighting, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more sacred. The quiet hum of the outside world faded as I lay there, my heart racing in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him more than anything—Chris was my anchor, the one person who made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. And now, as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this moment was something we would share, something precious.

“Are you sure, baby?” His voice was a gentle whisper, full of care, full of concern. He was looking at me like I was something so fragile, and in that moment, I knew he was never going to hurt me. “We’ll take it slow, doll. I’ll guide you, okay? You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, my breath shaky, but I felt his warmth surrounding me, giving me the courage to be vulnerable with him. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, but he heard me, and I could see the tenderness in his eyes.

Chris smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. “Good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then my nose, and finally, pressing his lips gently to mine. His kiss was slow, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every inch of me. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something so sweet and so full of love. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, okay? Let me do all the work.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. His soothing tone, the way he was speaking to me like I was the most precious thing in the world, melted away any lingering doubt. He wasn’t rushing, never rushing. Everything about him, from the way his hands brushed against my skin to the way he kissed me, was so slow, so deliberate, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

His hands, warm and steady, began to move over me gently. As he started to ease my jeans down, his fingers grazed my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch all over my body. I tried to steady myself, but the nerves still lingered. I covered my mouth to stifle the noise of discomfort, and I could feel my heart pound faster.

“100%?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer. You smiled, nodding as you placed your hand over his. “100%.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, quickly resuming your kiss as his hands worked on removing his jeans and boxers, hastily pulling down your underwear after. He’d had half a mind to pull you to your bedroom, he knew where it was after spending the night in your apartment a many times, but the way you whined against his lips made him hoist you up, hands on the underside of your thighs as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips.

The wall felt cool against your skin, but all you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds, the slick sound of your arousal coating his skin making you blush. He pushed himself against you, securing you against the bedframe as he moved his hand from the underside of your thigh, guiding his cock into your waiting cunt. The accompanying stretch made you sigh, eyes fluttering as he began slowly rocking his hips, wanting to give you a few moments to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you.

Chris’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw my hand over my mouth, but he didn’t miss a beat. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice low but soothing. “It’s okay, baby. The pain won’t last long, I promise,” he whispered. “Just breathe with me, alright? I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll take care of you.”

I nodded into his shoulder, the words comforting me as I tried to relax. My body still felt tense, and I couldn’t hold back the small noises slipping past my lips. I bit down on his shoulder, trying to distract myself from the pain, but I could feel myself biting harder as he slowly went deeper.

Chris noticed immediately, his gaze softening with concern. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his hand gently lifting my chin from his shoulder. His touch was so tender, so caring, as he guided my face to look at him. “Don’t be shy, okay? Let your noises out. I want to hear you. You don’t need to hold back with me, doll. You’re doing so good.”

His voice was full of warmth, and the gentle praise in his words made me feel a sense of comfort, of reassurance. He kissed me again, this time, softer than before, like he was savoring the moment, reassuring me that everything was okay.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re amazing. I know this is hard, but I’m so proud of you. Let go, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands were so gentle as they massaged my lower abdomen, and I felt my body slowly starting to relax into his touch. His kisses, soft and sweet, trailed down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every little noise that escaped my lips only made him praise me more, each word full of love and tenderness.

“See, baby? It’s so beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing over my collarbone, where I loved to feel his touch. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re perfect”

“This alright?” He asked, voice strained as his hands clutched your thigh and hip. You could only nod in response, hands flush against his back as he thrusted up into you. He felt like heaven, his body so close to yours that each roll of his hips caused your clit to brush against his lower stomach, providing much-needed friction along with the feeling of his cock rutting inside of you.

You could hear his breath catch in his throat whenever you’d clench around him, fingertips grasping your flesh with enough ferocity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your skin the day after. He trailed his lips along your throat, sucking love bites into the soft skin as he fucked himself into you, smiling against your throat whenever he’d draw a moan from you.

He pressed against me again, his movements slow, ensuring that I felt every inch of his care. His lips traced over my skin, leaving soft, feather-light kisses, and with each movement, he made sure to check in with me. “I’m right here, baby. We’re taking this slow. You’re amazing. Just relax, and let me love you.”

As he eased a little deeper, I felt the pressure of him there, and despite the discomfort, the warmth of his touch made everything feel safer. He noticed the way I bit down on his shoulder again and, gently, pulled my jaw from him.

He pulled me closer, his hand gently cupping my face and brushing away a stray tear. He wiped the sweat from my brow, pushing stray strands of hair from my face with such tenderness, his touch like a balm.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern and love. He rubbed my lower abdomen gently, his touch slow and comforting. “Tell me where it hurts, doll. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The pain in my stomach was dull but persistent, and his gentle touch only made me feel safer. “It’s here,” I whispered, still pressing my mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep the noise in.

Chris’s hand continued to rub my lower abdomen softly, his touch slow and comforting. “I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing so good, doll. You’re my girl, and I’m so lucky to be with you.”

“Baby, don’t be shy. Let it out, okay? You don’t need to hold back,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. He placed my hand over my lower abdomen and pressed it gently down, guiding me to feel just how far we’d come. “You took almost all of it” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. “We’ll take it slow. I promise you, the pain will stop soon. Just one more time, and we’ll be through it, alright? You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words were like a balm to my nerves, his gentle praise soothing my every fear. The way he held me, his every touch full of love, made everything feel so much better. I felt my body start to relax again, his soft words and careful touch giving me the courage to let go and trust him completely.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

Every time I let out a small noise, whether it was a shaky breath or a soft wince, his dick would twitch. “You sound so pretty.” He whispered, words followed by a soft grunt as his pace picked up a notch, your movements against the wall causing a series of barely audible thuds to echo throughout your living room. “You feel so good.”

His words came out hushed, always interrupted by a whine or a moan that he tried to hide in the crook of your neck. Every noise you heard from him went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around him as you felt your orgasm budding in your lower stomach. Your thighs tightened around his hips, heels subtly digging into his skin as you rolled your hips to meet his movements.

he murmured, kissing me softly.

He continued to move, slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body as he guided me through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered again, his voice filled with pride. “So good"

His kisses continued, soft and comforting, and with every reassuring word, every gentle touch.

I smiled into the kiss, a small, shaky thing, but it was real. It felt so good to be loved like this, to be held with so much care, so much tenderness. I couldn’t speak yet, the emotions and the sensations overwhelming me, but I repeated his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Chris...”

“I know, I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so soothing. He kissed my forehead, his hands still moving over me, tender and patient. He was giving me space to feel everything, to adjust to him at my own pace.

His touch was everywhere, a steady presence on my body that made me feel cherished, loved, and safe. As his hand moved to gently massage my lower abdomen, I felt my body responding, but in a way I couldn’t express with words. I reached down, guiding his hand to where I needed him most, the place where I would feel good, where my body craved his touch.

Chris’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need words to understand what I was asking for. “You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride. “I love that you know what you need. I’m here with you, okay? I’m right here.”

I whispered his name again, this time with a soft, breathless smile on my lips, “Chris…” I make a weak attempt to continue my previous sentence.

“Oh, fuck-“ He whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as your hips moved with his, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each kiss intercepted by a whine or whimper of your name. Your fingers dug into the muscles lining his back, head rolling back to rest against the wall.

“I’m gonna cum-“ You murmured, words near slurred as your cunt spasmed around his cock. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the feeling of you coming undone around him, his pace faltering for mere seconds as he tried his best to keep himself upright, legs practically shaking from the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around him.

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise as he chased his own. You threaded your fingers through his hair, subtly grasping onto the strands as he rutted into you. He seemed to like the feeling, face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he came inside of you. His hips stuttered with each wave of his orgasm, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he grunted through the feeling. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you full of his cum.

You kissed his cheek and jaw, catching your breath all the while. You couldn’t help but smile against his damp skin, loving the way he still held you in his arms even through his orgasm. A soft laugh bubbled past your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

In the end, I was breathless, my body aching in the most beautiful way. As he held me close, his hands gently tracing over my skin, I felt completely at ease, completely safe.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but sincere, my heart full of him.

Chris kissed me softly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you, baby. So much,” he whispered, his voice warm and comforting, like a blanket I could wrap myself in forever.

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. Safe in his arms, loved and cherished beyond measure, and I could feel my heart swell with love for him in return.

The night he promised forever

It was a night that felt like it belonged in a movie. Everything was perfect—the soft lighting from the street lamps, the cool breeze in the air, and the way I felt as I walked into the room, completely transformed. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my outfit was just right. The soft fabric of my dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my hair, usually more casual, was styled into gentle waves that made me feel a little more glamorous than usual.

And then there was Chris. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time that night—it was pure awe. His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked at me, barely able to speak. "Baby," he breathed, "you... you look unbelievable."

I smiled softly, trying to act calm, but inside I was a mess of butterflies. "Thanks, Chris," I said, giving a little twirl to show off the dress.

Chris didn’t even try to hide how his gaze followed me, his lips curling into a grin that was almost too proud to be real. He chuckled, shaking his head, trying to play it off. "God, you’re so beautiful. I’m actually losing it right now." He stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I don’t think I can even look at you anymore tonight or I might just—" He stopped, shaking his head again with a mischievous grin. "Never mind."

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully, and then we were off. The date had all the right vibes—casual and sweet, with just enough energy to keep everything exciting. After a cozy dinner, we ended up at the ice cream shop, Chris already making jokes about how he was going to spoil me with whatever flavor I wanted. I picked vanilla, my favorite, and Chris got his usual mint chocolate chip.

Sitting on the bench outside, enjoying our ice cream, Chris couldn’t help but tease me every chance he got. His eyes were practically locked on my lips, and I could tell his mind was racing. When I got a little ice cream on the tip of my nose, his face lit up. Without even thinking, he leaned over, his lips gently brushing my nose to kiss the ice cream away.

He pulled back with a smirk, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Mmm, vanilla, huh?" he said, voice dropping lower. "Reminds me of what I want to taste from you tonight."

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I pushed his face away teasingly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. "Chris! Stop," I giggled, pushing him back playfully, but I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine from his words.

Chris, unfazed, just laughed softly and leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my cheek. "I’m just sayin’, doll, you look too good tonight. It’s driving me crazy."

I smiled, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, especially with how his eyes were scanning me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me. Chris was always so sweet and gentle, but there was a side of him that was so much more intense when he wanted something. He kissed my cheek softly, then my jaw, and whispered in my ear, "Can’t wait for tonight, baby. I can already picture it. You in my bed with your thighs squeezing my face... God, that thought is driving me wild."

I gasped, pushing him away again, laughing but feeling my heart race. "Chris, you’re impossible!" But there was no hiding the fact that I loved his words, even if they made me feel nervous.

"Come on, don’t be shy, baby," he said softly, his hands reaching for mine, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. "You know I’m always gentle with you. I just love teasing you... You make me want you so bad." His voice was soft and warm, but there was a sincerity in it that made my stomach flutter.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling all the tension melt away. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just him, me, and the promise of a night where everything between us felt just right. He was sweet, tender, and always knew just how to make me feel special—even when he was making dirty jokes or teasing me endlessly.

"I just wanna take care of you, baby," he whispered, pulling me close as we continued to laugh and smile. "You’re perfect in every way. Don’t forget that."

I looked up at him, feeling my heart full of affection. "I won’t, Chris. I promise." And that promise was sealed with another soft kiss from him, one that made me forget everything else in the world but him.

Forever without me

The room spins as you stumble into the apartment, your arm draped over Chris’s shoulder for balance. Your feet barely manage to keep up with his steady steps as he guides you inside, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you some water,” Chris murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re gonna feel like crap if you don’t.”

You giggle, your words slurred as you sway against him. “I don’t need water. I need... I don’t know what I need.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he helps you toward the couch. “Well, I know what you need, doll, and it’s water. Trust me.”

He sets you down gently, brushing the hair out of your face as you blink up at him with a hazy smile. “You’re so... pretty, Chris,” you mumble, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one, baby. Now sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen, your head lolling against the couch as your eyelids grow heavy. When he returns with a glass of water, he kneels in front of you, holding it out.

“Drink,” he coaxes, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a few sips, m’kay?”

You pout, pushing the glass away weakly. “I don’t want it. I can do this myself.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his patience unwavering. “Doll, you can barely sit up. Just humor me, alright?”

You groan but take a sip, your movements clumsy. He watches you carefully, his hand resting on your knee to steady you. When you’re done, he sets the glass aside and stands, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get you changed and into bed,” he says, tugging you up gently.

You sway on your feet, your head falling against his chest as he wraps an arm around you to keep you upright. “I don’t need help,” you mumble, your tone stubborn. “I can do it myself.”

Chris lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know you can, baby, but let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

You huff but let him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you on the edge of the bed and crouches down, his hands carefully unlacing your shoes. His movements are so tender, so patient, it makes your chest ache.

“I can do this,” you mutter again, trying to push his hands away as he reaches for the hem of your top.

Chris’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “I know you can, but you’re drunk, and I’m just trying to help.”

You swat at his hands as he gently pulls your shirt over your head. “I’m not a kid, Chris. I don’t need you to baby me.”

He freezes for a moment, his hands stilling as his eyes flicker to yours. “I’m not babying you,” he says softly. “I’m taking care of you.”

But your words keep spilling out, unfiltered by your inebriated state. “You always do this,” you mumble, your tone accusatory. “You treat me like I can’t do anything on my own.”

Chris’s shoulders tense, and he exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “That’s not what I’m doing, doll,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of weariness. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You shake your head, your words growing more jumbled. “You just... you’re always... I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

The hurt that flashes across his face is fleeting, but it’s there. He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says quietly, standing up. “If that’s how you feel.”

He takes a step back, his blue eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something—anything—that would undo the sting of your words. But when you don’t, he nods to himself and steps toward the door.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he says, his voice tight, and with that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

The pounding in your head is relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the aching void in your chest. You stir on the couch, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and find Chris sitting beside you. He’s leaning back, his arm draped over the couch’s edge, his face unreadable.

You shift closer to him, resting your head against his stomach, desperate for some kind of connection. His body tenses under you, but he doesn’t say a word. You tilt your face up, planting soft kisses along the fabric of his hoodie, trailing them lower, hoping to draw out some kind of reaction.

“Chris,” you whisper, your voice small and pleading. When he doesn’t respond, you kiss him again, this time with more intention. “Please, talk to me.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming to rest on your head for a brief moment before pulling away. “Baby, not now,” he says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

You ignore his words, your emotions high and desperate. Your fingers graze his jaw as you press another kiss to his stomach. “Why not?” you murmur, your lips trembling. “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his patience visibly fraying. “I said not now,” he repeats, still trying to keep his tone even. “You’re not in the right headspace.”

The sting of rejection hits hard, and your chest tightens with a mix of shame and hurt. “Chris,” you plead again, sitting up now, your hands reaching for his face. “Why won’t you touch me? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenches, and he finally looks at you, his blue eyes filled with frustration. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart breaks at the coldness in his tone, and before you can stop yourself, you move to straddle his lap, your fingers fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Chris grabs your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away. “Stop,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Baby, stop this.”

But you don’t stop. You lean in, pressing your lips to his, your desperation palpable. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?”

That’s when he snaps. Chris pushes you back slightly, his voice exploding with emotion. “Why not? Are you serious right now?” He stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he paces the room.

You sit there, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. “Chris, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he cuts you off, turning to face you, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even remember last night? Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling for answers. “No, I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I just remember you helping me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I helped you. I always help you. But you don’t remember telling me that I’m controlling? That I treat you like a child? That you feel smothered by me?”

Your heart sinks, and tears spring to your eyes. “Chris, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he spits, his voice sharp. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to disappear because you don’t remember.”

Tears stream down your face as you stand, trying to close the distance between you. “I don’t feel that way, Chris. I swear. I love you.”

Chris’s laughter is harsh, almost cruel. “You love me?” he echoes. “Then why are you acting like this? Why are you so desperate for me to touch you now when last night you couldn’t stand the way I take care of you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his arm. “I just wanted you. I needed you.”

He shakes his head, his voice rising again. “You needed me? You always need me, don’t you? You act like this—like a child—whenever things get tough. You love being babied in bed, and I’m always soft with you because you’re so damn sensitive.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, he pauses, his face softening slightly as guilt flickers in his eyes. He hesitates, his mouth opening as if he’s about to backtrack. But then his jaw sets, and he doubles down.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he continues, his voice harder now. “You’re so sensitive and overdramatic that I have to walk on eggshells around you all the time. I have to take my time with you, but now you’re acting like this—like you can’t wait another second. Why?”

Your sobs grow louder as his words cut deeper, and you shake your head, trying to reach for him. “Chris, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But he doesn’t stop. His frustration has taken over completely, and he’s unable to hold back. “Why are you so needy and quick for me now?” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You make me feel like I can’t win no matter what I do. I’m either not enough, or I’m too much.”

Your knees buckle, and you collapse back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “Chris, please,” you beg, your voice barely audible.

He softens slightly, the anger in his expression replaced by sadness. “I love you,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m never enough for you.”

Before you can respond, he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door. “I hope you figure out what you really want,” he says quietly before walking out, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of his absence.

You sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the memory settles between you and Dr. Callahan. "That’s the last time I saw him," you say, staring down at your hands clutching a tissue.

The room feels oppressively quiet, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the silence. Your chest tightens as the words hang in the air, final and raw. "I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused, and he was gone. His hoodie wasn’t on the chair anymore, his keys weren’t on the table. He didn’t even leave a note."

Your breath hitches as your eyes well up again, and you swipe at your face angrily with the tissue. "I don’t even remember all of what I said that night. I just know I was crying, begging him, practically throwing myself at him—and he snapped. He told me I was too much. That I’m always too much."

Your voice cracks, and you let out a shaky exhale. "I mean, he wasn’t wrong, was he? I am too much. I pushed him so hard that he finally broke. And then I just… let him leave. I didn’t even try to stop him."

Dr. Callahan leans forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice is soft but grounded. "It sounds like that moment is still very raw for you. But it also sounds like there’s a lot of blame you’re placing on yourself. Have you thought about why you let him leave without stopping him?"

You blink hard, the tears blurring your vision. "Because… I thought he’d come back," you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. "He always came back before. No matter how bad the fights got, no matter what I said or did—Chris always came back."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "But this time, he didn’t."

You press the tissue to your nose, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. "I don’t know why I even thought he would. He looked at me like I was a stranger that night. Like he didn’t even know me anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe I pushed him so far that he stopped loving me, and I just didn’t want to see it."

Dr. Callahan watches you for a moment, her expression calm but empathetic. "What you’re describing—losing someone you cared so deeply for—is incredibly painful. But it’s also important to understand that relationships don’t break down because of one person. It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself."

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "But I did this," you choke out. "I was the one who couldn’t stop. I was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even tell him I’m sorry. I can’t take back any of it."

Your chest feels hollow as you lean back into the couch, the tears still falling freely. Deep down, you wonder if the ache will ever stop. If the image of him walking out the door that night will ever fade. If you’ll ever feel whole again without him.

To be continued??

A/N: This fic has been a labor of love and has definitely been time-consuming to write! Mostly due to the fact that I never slept in 2 days. A huge shoutout to the amazing anon who requested a story about a breakup with a personal spin on it—hopefully, this is exactly what you were hoping for! If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me. If you liked the story, or even if you have thoughts or feedback, any sort of interaction is always beyond appreciated. Thank you again for reading 🩷

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo

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milfsloverblog · 4 hours ago

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Long Overdue Promise

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

When a shadow from Larissa’s past shows up at her door, reminding her of a promise she made twenty years ago.

A/N: Writing is basically keeping me sane right now. Enjoy! Jordan, this one’s for you! See you in 20 years!

The house was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace. Larissa Weems sat curled in her armchair, a glass of wine perched precariously in her hand. She stared into the burgundy liquid, swirling it idly, though her mind was far from the drink. The evening had been like so many others lately—lonely, subdued, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Forty-one.

The number lingered in her mind, heavier than she'd expected it to feel. Her birthday had passed a few weeks ago, marked by polite well-wishes and a dinner she had hosted herself. But no celebration could erase the quiet truth of it: forty-one years, and her life looked so different from what she’d imagined when she was a student at Nevermore.

Her lips curved into a small, self-deprecating smile. What had she expected? A perfect career? A family? Some grand, sweeping romance? She’d told herself over the years that she didn’t need any of it. She had her work. She had her home. Her students. But tonight, as she stared at the fireplace, she felt the faintest echo of longing—a hollow space she couldn’t quite name.

It was like a pull, the quiet tug of a memory buried so deep she’d almost forgotten it existed. The weight of it, however, was undeniable now. She was older. Her heart, once a wide-open vessel for hopes and dreams, had been shut away behind layers of practicality and caution. For so long, she’d told herself she was fine on her own, that love wasn’t something she needed, or that it was something for other people—people who didn’t carry the weight of history on their shoulders.

Her thoughts drifted to a time when she had believed in everything—the fierce optimism of youth, the way she had once thought she could be anything, do anything, with the world at her feet. But it hadn’t taken long for the truth to sink in. She hadn’t just built walls around her heart—she’d constructed an entire fortress. And that fortress had been reinforced by the memory of a love that had never been fully hers.

Her thoughts returned to Morticia Addams, the sharp, intoxicating magnetism of her presence still alive in Larissa’s memory. Even as she’d built her career, her identity, Larissa had always carried that secret, private love. It was the kind of love that never quite faded, never quite disappeared, but that you learned to keep tucked away in the quietest corners of your heart. And it was that love—unrequited, unspoken—that had shaped every relationship since. None of them had ever felt real enough, close enough, because none of them had been her.

Larissa’s fingers tightened around her glass, but before she could take another sip, a sharp knock at the door startled her, breaking her reverie. She frowned, setting the glass down carefully before standing. Visitors weren’t exactly common at this hour, especially unannounced ones.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she crossed to the door, her mind already flipping through possibilities. A student? A staff member? An emergency, perhaps?

But when she opened the door, the sight that greeted her was one she hadn’t imagined in years.

It was you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood there, rain clinging to your coat and hair, a nervous smile playing on your lips. Larissa’s breath caught in her throat as she took you in. You looked older—of course you did. But there was something about you that hadn’t changed, something that tugged at a part of her she thought she’d buried.

“Happy belated birthday,” you said, your voice soft, familiar, and entirely too casual for the weight of the moment. “I just realized we’re overdue on a promise.”

Larissa stared at you, her mind struggling to catch up. And then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, the memory hit her.

It had been a warm spring night, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the faint hum of crickets. You and Larissa had been sprawled on the grass near the Nevermore lake, a stolen bottle of wine between you.

“I’m serious,” you’d said, your words slurred but your tone insistent. “If we’re both still single at forty, we’ll marry each other. Deal?”

Larissa had laughed, a rich, musical sound that echoed across the water. “Oh, absolutely. Because nothing screams romance like two lonely spinsters making a drunken pact.”

You’d nudged her shoulder playfully. “I’m being serious, Weems.”

“And I’m being drunk,” she’d teased, though the warmth in her smile betrayed her fondness for you.

Still, there had been a sincerity in your eyes that had quieted her laughter. She’d felt something shift in that moment, though she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Fine,” she’d said at last, raising the nearly empty bottle in mock solemnity. “If we’re both single at forty, we’ll get married. Deal.”

You’d clinked your glass against the bottle, your grin wide and mischievous. “It’s a promise.”

Larissa had never expected to think about that night again. She hadn’t thought about much from her past, especially not from her time as a student, when she’d been far more carefree. Those years had become a series of disconnected moments, each one replaced by the demands of her career and the cold weight of responsibilities. She’d buried those lighter, hopeful parts of herself beneath layers of control and composure.

But now, seeing you there, the years didn’t seem to matter. Everything felt familiar—too familiar. She had always known there was a reason she hadn’t had long-lasting relationships, a reason she’d spent so much time alone. And that reason had always been tied to her feelings for Morticia. There had never been room for anyone else—not really.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember,” Larissa said, her voice soft as the memory faded.

You smiled, a little shyly, and shrugged. “How could I forget?”

She stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You hesitated for a moment before stepping past her, shedding your damp coat and setting it carefully on the rack. The warmth of the room enveloped you, though it did little to ease the nervous flutter in your chest.

Larissa led you to the living room, her movements graceful despite the slight stiffness in her posture. She sat down in the chair she’d just vacated, gesturing for you to take the couch opposite her.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I suppose I should offer you a drink,” Larissa said at last, her voice tinged with wry humor.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

Her gaze lingered on you, searching, questioning. “So,” she said slowly, “is this a social visit? Or have you come to collect on our… agreement?”

The teasing lilt in her voice couldn’t quite mask the vulnerability beneath it.

“I…” You hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to begin. “I’ve been thinking about that night. About you. A lot.”

Larissa raised an eyebrow, her expression carefully neutral. “Have you?”

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “I turned forty a few weeks ago,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Larissa said softly. “I saw the announcement in the papers. Congratulations, by the way.”

You looked up at her, startled. “You… you still read those?”

She smiled faintly. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile.

“I never forgot about you,” you said at last, your voice trembling slightly. “I know we haven’t spoken in years, but… I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to see you.”

Larissa’s expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Why now?”

You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “Because I think we made that promise for a reason. And I think… I think I’ve spent the past twenty years trying to convince myself I didn’t need you. But I do, Larissa.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her gaze fixed on the flickering fire.

“I’m not the person you knew,” she said quietly. “I’ve changed.”

“So have I,” you replied, your voice steady. “But I think some part of us—of what we had—is still here. Don’t you?”

She didn’t answer right away, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. When she finally looked at you, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not someone who’s spent their whole life building walls.”

“I’m not asking for perfection,” you said, leaning forward. “I’m asking for you.”

The vulnerability in your words broke something in her. She stood abruptly, pacing to the window as though the act might give her space to think.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, her back to you. “I don’t know how to let you in.”

“You already did,” you said gently. “A long time ago.”

Larissa’s breath caught at your words. She turned to face you, her expression raw and unguarded. For a moment, she looked like the girl you’d known all those years ago—soft, hopeful, afraid of wanting too much.

Her heart beat a little faster as she watched you, feeling the weight of everything between you—years of silence, of missed opportunities, of dreams that had never quite come true. She had spent so much of her life convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone, that she was fine alone. But the truth was, she'd been lying to herself for so long.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

“You won’t,” you said, your voice a promise—fragile, but full of hope.

The words hung between you, a delicate thread of possibility that neither of you could ignore. Slowly, cautiously, Larissa crossed the room and sat beside you on the couch. Her hands trembled as she reached for yours, her fingers brushing against your skin.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely audible, the weight of the question pressing against her chest.

You nodded, tears spilling over as you squeezed her hand. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

And for the first time in years, Larissa allowed herself to hope.

The silence between you felt different now, less oppressive. It wasn’t a promise yet, but it was something. It was a beginning—of something new, or perhaps something old, rekindled. The road ahead would be difficult, filled with the shadows of your pasts, but for the first time in a long while, Larissa didn’t feel so alone.

And maybe, just maybe, this time, she wouldn’t have to be.

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental l , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @spacetoaim22 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems x y/n #no beta we die like larissa

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joelmillerisapunk · 1 day ago

Text

Reincarnated

Joel Miller x F!Reader // 4.5k

summary: A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

warnings: this is just yearing, longing, sad tortured for years joel, theme's of heartbreak, no beta, two ex's, tommy makes an appearance, no smut here (I know I know this is not my usual)

notes: I don't usually write this kind of stuff (no smut) and I am not sure how I feel about it but this is my submission for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge my prompt was: An old flame unexpectedly texts the other after years of silence, sparking memories of their past relationship and wondering if the feelings are still there. A big thank you to @thundermartini my baby for holding my hand as per usual, helping me with the title, being my draft, my cheerleader supporting me through a hundred moodboard changes, @itwasntimethatdidit40 my sweet sweet freckles for being such a massive support, helping me with the moodboard pictures, being a cheerleader and reading through parts of this. and @sawymredfox for always being such a lovely support and listening to me ramble always I love you all more than you know.

masterlist

The sun dipped low behind the hills, painting the Texas sky in streaks of gold and crimson. Joel sat on the creaky old porch chair, boots propped on the railing, a glass of bourbon rested loosely in his hand. He wasn’t drinking to enjoy it tonight—more out of habit than anything. The bitter burn barely registered anymore.

Beside him, Tommy leaned back in his chair, the faint smirk on his face telling Joel he was gearing up for one of his jabs. Tommy always had a knack for digging up things Joel preferred to leave buried.

“You ever wonder what happened to her?” Tommy asked, his voice easy, like he was just making small talk. But Joel knew better.

Joel’s grip on the glass tightened. He kept his gaze on the horizon, jaw clenching as he swirled the amber liquid. “Who?” he grunted, though his heart already knew the answer.

Tommy chuckled, low and knowing. “C’mon, Joel. Don’t play dumb. You know who I’m talkin’ about. That woman you used to see when Sarah was little. The one who—”

“Drop it, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was sharp, a warning shot, but Tommy, stubborn as ever, wasn’t backing down just yet.

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Tommy said, leaning forward. “But I’m just sayin’, you’ve been walkin’ around like a damn ghost for years now. You ever think maybe you oughta—”

“I said drop it,” Joel snapped, his tone cutting through the lazy evening like a whip crack.

That shut Tommy up, at least for a moment. He leaned back again, taking a swig of his beer and letting out a long sigh. “Fine. But you know I’m right. You can act like you don’t care, but I see it, Joel. Regret’s a hell of a thing to carry around.”

Joel didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he stared out at the horizon, watching as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.

————————

Later that night, Joel lay in bed, the house quiet save for the faint creak of the floorboards settling. Tommy’s words churned in his mind, unwelcome but persistent. Regret.

The truth was, Joel had gotten real good at shoving his regrets into a corner of his mind and ignoring them. He had to. Otherwise, they’d eat him alive. But sometimes, like tonight, they crept back in, catching him off guard when his defenses were down.

Your face came to him in flashes, unbidden but vivid as ever—the curve of your smile, the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had always seemed to see right through him.

He’d thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years. Wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. Wondered if you ever thought about him.

Joel sat up, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the phone on his nightstand. The idea of reaching out had crossed his mind a hundred times before, but he’d always talked himself out of it. What would he even say? What right did he have to show up in your life again after all this time?

Still, something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was Tommy’s words rattling around in his head. Or maybe it was the quiet, aching loneliness that had settled in his chest like an old friend.

Before he could think better of it, Joel grabbed his phone. He opened a blank message, staring at it for what felt like an eternity. Then, he typed, backspaced and typed again until he finally settled on something.

Hey, it’s been a while.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the send button. His chest felt tight, like the weight of all the years and mistakes was pressing down on him. But before he could change his mind, he hit send.

The message hung there on the screen, simple and unassuming, but it felt monumental. Joel stared at it, heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Minutes passed. Then longer. He sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. “Goddamn fool,” he muttered under his breath.

But just as he was reaching to turn off the light, his phone buzzed.

The buzzing sound jolted him more than he cared to admit. He picked it up, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow.

You: Who is this?

He hadn’t expected you to respond. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was suddenly aware of how much rested on the next words he typed.

Joel: It’s Joel.

The three dots appeared almost immediately, then disappeared. They came back and stopped again. Joel could almost picture you sitting there, debating whether to even respond.

Then it came.

You: What do you want?

There it was. Direct. Guarded. Exactly what he expected. Joel leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t blame you. Hell, he deserved worse. But now that he’d started this, he couldn’t stop.

Joel: I don’t know. Just thought I’d check in.

The response came quicker this time.

You: After all these years? You just “thought you’d check in”?

Joel winced, hesitating over the screen again. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like enough.

Joel: I’ve been thinking about you.

Another pause. He could practically feel your hesitation through the phone.

You: Don’t. You don’t get to do that.

Joel stared at your message. His jaw tightened as he fought against the surge of guilt rising in his chest. You were right—he didn’t get to do this. But here he was, selfishly dragging the both of you back into a mess he’d created.

He set the phone down, ran a hand over his face, and stared at the ceiling. Memories of you flickered in his mind—how your laugh used to light up a room, the way your touch had always grounded him when the world felt too heavy. He’d walked away, thinking it was the right thing to do. For Sarah. For her mother. For everyone but you.

The phone buzzed again. He sighed, picking it back up.

You: Why now, Joel? What’s the point?

He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head so many times over the years, but none of those imagined scenarios had prepared him for this.

Joel: There is no point. I just couldn’t stop myself tonight. I know I don’t deserve to be texting you.

You: You’re damn right you don’t. You broke my heart. You don’t just get to waltz back in like nothing happened.

Joel: I know I did. And I’m sorry. I should’ve said it back then, but I was too much of a coward.

He stared at the screen, waiting, but no reply came. The silence felt heavier than the darkness surrounding him, and for a moment, he wondered if that was it. If you’d finally had enough and decided to let him rot in the bed he’d made.

You: But why now, why tonight?

Joel: Tommy brought you up. Got me thinking.

The truth hung there, plain and unvarnished. He could’ve lied, could’ve made it sound more noble, but what good would that have done?

You: So what, I’m some ghost you decided to chase because Tommy made you feel bad?

Joel: No. It’s not like that. I’ve thought about you every damn day since I left. I know that probably doesn't mean shit to you, but it’s the truth.

You: Every day, huh? Didn’t stop you from choosing her over me.

Joel shut his eyes, the memory of that choice cutting through him like a knife. He’d thought he was doing the right thing back then but in the process, he’d shattered something else—something that had mattered more than he’d been willing to admit.

Joel: You’re right. I made the wrong choice. I know that now.

You: I don’t know if I can do this.

Joel stared at the words. He wasn’t sure if he could do this either, but he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want to let you go again.

Joel: You don’t have to decide right now. Just let me talk to you. For a little bit. Please.

You: Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Joel’s lips. He didn’t expect it to be easy. He didn’t think he deserved it. But for the first time in years, there was a sliver of hope in his chest.

Joel: Fair enough.

You: Still into music?

Joel’s brows furrowed, the unexpected question caught him off guard. The memory hit Joel like a sucker punch. The songs. That was how you used to talk to each other when words didn’t feel like enough.

Every morning, like clockwork, one of you would send a song with a time stamp—each track chosen so deliberately. Some days, it was your favorite love songs, sappy and sweet, reminding the other how much you cared. Other times, it was to lift each other up, a little nudge of hope when the world felt too heavy. And then there were the ones that said all the things neither of you could say out loud.

Joel: Always.

You: I’ll send you one tomorrow.

Joel: Looking forward to it.

Joel sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. Your last message sat heavy on his chest, lingering. He stared up at the ceiling, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the blinds. His thoughts churned like storm clouds—your words, the memories they dragged back, the ache of something he thought he'd buried years ago.

Eventually, the exhaustion won out, pulling him under. Joel’s dreams carried him back to a time when life felt a little less heavy, and the weight of his choices hadn’t yet settled on his shoulders.

He saw you clearly, like a photograph that had been buried but never faded. You were standing in his kitchen cooking breakfast, barefoot and wearing one of his old flannels that hung loose on you, the sleeves rolled up past your elbows. It was early morning, sunlight streaming through the window and catching in your hair, painting you in a golden glow.

Joel leaned against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching as you hummed along to Fishin' in the Dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band on the radio—one of those old country tunes you both loved. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, carefree and unselfconscious, like the world outside didn’t exist. You turned suddenly, catching him staring, and your smile lit up the room.

“What?” you teased, eyes sparkling. “You gonna stand there all morning, or are you gonna help me?”

“Don’t see a reason to move,” Joel drawled, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Got a real nice view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laughter bubbled up, soft and sweet, filling the quiet space between you. He couldn’t help but cross the room then, setting his coffee down on the counter as his hands found your waist.

“Joel Miller,” you said, feigning exasperation as he pulled you close, his fingers brushing along the curve of your hip. “I’m trying to make breakfast, and you’re—”

“Distractin’ you?” he interrupted, leaning in so his nose brushed against you.

“Exactly.”

“Good,” he murmured, before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You let out a soft sigh, melting into him, and for a moment, everything felt perfect—like the rest of the world could wait.

The memory shifted, flickering like an old film reel. You were both lying on the couch now, tangled up in each other as a record spun on the turntable, and he could hear your voice, quiet but clear, singing along to a song you’d claimed was “for him.”

“Every time I hear this one, I think of you,” you’d confessed, your head resting on his chest.

Joel hadn’t responded with words. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running idly through your hair. Actions had always been easier for him than words, and he’d hoped you understood what he couldn’t say.

When Joel woke, the room was still dim, dawn just beginning to creep through the cracks in the blinds. He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly as the previous night settled back onto his chest. His phone caught his eye, and he hesitated before reaching for it.

The screen lit up, and there it was—a new message.

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift.

His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, staring at the phone in his hand. The words hit harder than he’d expected—bitterness woven into a truth he couldn’t deny. But beneath the sting, there was something else.

You’d sent him a song. After all this time, after everything that had passed between you, you’d listened, and you’d answered. It wasn’t an olive branch, not exactly, but it was a thread. A connection. A chance.

Joel stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, the song still playing in the background. The words hit like a gut punch, raw and honest in a way only music could manage. He exhaled slowly. He had to respond, and it had to be right.

Scrolling through his playlists, he searched for something that could say what he couldn’t put into words. A chance to prove he wasn’t the man who had walked away. Something that could show you he wasn’t taking this lightly, that he regretted the past.

Then he found it.

Joel: 2:26 - The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then opened the song and skipped to the time stamp.

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”

The lyrics bled through the room, a haunting confession of longing and regret. He closed his eyes, letting the melody wrap around him like a cold embrace. It wasn’t just a song—it was a plea.

Minutes passed with no reply, the silence stretched long and thin. Joel’s chest tightened, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome guest. Maybe he’d read too much into your message. Maybe sending the song was too much.

The phone buzzed in his hand, and his breath hitched.

You: That’s a bold choice.

A small, humorless chuckle escaped him. Bold, sure—but it was the truth.

Joel: Figured it was fitting.

You: It is. But that night it’s a hard one to go back to.

Joel swallowed painfully, the weight of your words settling over him like a lead blanket. He didn’t blame you.

Joel: I know. I can’t change the past. But I wish I could.

You: Wishing doesn’t fix anything.

Joel: You’re right. But maybe it’s a start.

You: We’ll see.

The conversation faded into silence after that, but Joel didn’t mind. For the first time in years, he felt like he’d taken a step—small, tentative, but forward.

He wasn’t walking away this time. Not again.

——————————

The next day started quietly for Joel. After his usual morning routine—coffee, and an aimless walk around the property—he finally glanced at his phone, half-expecting silence, but there it was

You: 2:01 - All I Want by Kodaline

Joel sat on the oak chair at his kitchen table, his phone resting in his palm as All I Want faded out. Your song hit him square in the heart—a combination of longing and accusation he couldn’t argue with. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

Joel played the song, the ache in the lyrics settled heavy in his chest. "Cause you brought out the best of me. A part of me I'd never seen. You took my soul, wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?" The words cut sharper than he wanted to admit.

Why did you leave me?

The answer felt too big, too tangled in old guilt and choices he couldn’t take back. Joel rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to think of the right response. Music had always been your language, but today, the words felt harder to choose.

After a while, he scrolled through his playlists again, stopping when his thumb hovered over a familiar title. It wasn’t just about the lyrics—it was the feeling, the truth of what he wanted to say but couldn’t. He thought it might somehow tip the scales in his favor and so he typed.

2:41- Let Her Go by Passenger

He opened the song and let the timestamp play, you only know you love her when you let her go and you let her go.

Finally, he hit the button, watching as the message marked "Delivered."

The phone sat in his hand as he leaned back against the kitchen chair, the melody echoing in his mind. This back-and-forth of songs and guarded words—it felt like a lifeline, but also like walking on a tightrope. He wanted more, needed more, but he wasn’t sure if you were ready to give it.

The phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts.

You: You always pick the gut-punchers.

Joel exhaled a small laugh.

Joel: Never been good at subtle.

You: You’ve still got good taste in music, I’ll give you that. Suprised it’s not an oldie.

Joel smiled, a faint warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a step—a reminder that some part of you still wanted to talk to him.

By the sixth day, it felt like you both slipped back into old habits, texting each other all day about everything and nothing. Joel found himself smiling more, laughing even. It wasn’t like the years hadn’t happened—those gaps still lingered, but they didn’t feel so wide anymore.

—————————————

The next few days blurred together in a steady rhythm of texts. It started slow—Joel’s messages were careful and measured. A “good morning” here, a comment about the weather there, and a song in between. But soon, the conversations stretched longer, dipping into familiar topics and inside jokes he hadn’t thought about in years.

It was comfortable and natural. Everything was falling back into place, even though you weren’t sure if you were ready to let it.

Joel: Thought about calling you earlier.

You: Why didn’t you?

Joel: I don’t know. Didn’t wanna push too hard, I guess. But I miss hearing your voice.

You: Well if you’re going to call, might as well make it a video call. Let’s see if you’ve aged as much as you sound like you have ;)

Joel blinked at the screen, his lips twitching into a surprised smile. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the hallway mirror. “Damn you old fool,” he muttered to himself, brushing a finger over the lines on his face.

Joel: You sure? Don’t want to scare you off.

You: I’ll take my chances.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and almost nervous as he tapped the video call button. His heart thudded in his chest as the screen shifted, the ringing filling his ears until, finally, the call connected.

Your face appeared, a little blurry at first before the image settled. Joel stared, his breath catching at the sight of you, just as beautiful as he remembered.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Joel swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone. “Hey,” he replied. He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess this is me. Older, grayer, and maybe a little wiser.”

You tilted your head, a smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t look half bad… for an old man.”

Joel chuckled, the sound more relaxed this time. He paused, his eyes scanning your face through the screen. “It’s real good to see you.”

You nodded, your expression softening. “It’s good to see you too.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing as the two of you settled into the call. His smile lingered, even as he tried to play it cool. “Y’know, video calls weren’t much of a thing last time we talked.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, it’s weird seeing you like this. Makes you feel closer, though.”

He nodded, the warmth in your voice made his chest tighten. “Closer’s good. Been too damn long.”

Your gaze softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything, just letting the silence stretch. Joel was the first to break. “So, I passed the test, then? Don’t look too ancient on camera?”

You laughed, the sound sending a ripple of nostalgia through him. “You’re doing okay. Grays suit you.”

“Flatterin’ me now, huh?” He leaned forward slightly. “I think you’re tryin’ to distract me.”

“Distract you from what?” you asked, raising a brow, but there was a playful lilt in your voice.

“From how damn beautiful you are,” he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. He blinked, his expression shifting as if he wasn’t sure he should’ve said it.

“You always were a charmer, Miller.”

“Not sure ‘bout that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I just say what I mean when it comes to you.”

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and Joel caught the way your expression softened, your playful demeanor faltering for just a moment.

“You always did have a way of catching me off guard,” you said finally.

“Guess it’s mutual, then.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve always had a knack for makin’ me say things I don’t plan on sayin’.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like tellin’ you how beautiful you are,” he said without missing a beat, his tone steady now, as if he’d decided to own the moment. “How much I’ve missed seein’ that pretty face, hearin’ your laugh.” He paused, his eyes holding yours through the screen. “How much I’ve missed you.”

“Joel…” you began, but he cut you off with a gentle smile.

“Don’t gotta say anything,” he said softly. “Just… wanted you to know.”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through. “You always do this, you know? Say something that makes it impossible to stay mad at you.”

“Not my intention. So, how ‘bout you? You miss me at all, or am I just an old fool?”

"I mean, you are an old fool, but…"

"But?"

"But maybe I missed you a little," you teased, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart for emphasis.

He shook his head as a laugh rumbled out of him. "A little, huh? Should’ve known I’d only get a half-assed compliment outta you."

"Hey," you shot back, grinning now, "that’s more than most people get. Consider yourself special, Miller."

"Special, huh? Careful now—you keep sweet-talkin’ me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you missed me a lot."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Don’t push your luck."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, full of unspoken things. Joel shifted in his chair, his thumb brushing absently along the edge of the phone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this, how much he’d needed you. And now that he had you on the other end of this call, he wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long without it.

“So,” he started, his voice softer now, “what have you been up to all these years? Catch me up.”

You shared bits and pieces of your life. Joel listened intently, his eyes fixed on the screen like you might vanish if he looked away. Your laugh filled the space between his words, and every now and then, you’d tease him about his “old man” habits or the way his drawl had only gotten thicker.

It was easy. Too easy. And Joel realized he didn’t want the call to end.

“Y’know, this… this ain’t enough. Seein’ you like this. Hearin’ you talk. Feels good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same.”

You hesitated, your smile faltering. “What are you saying, Joel?”

“I’m sayin’… I wanna see you. For real. None of this video callin’ nonsense.” His voice dropped lower, softer, like he was afraid you might say no. “Just you and me. Like old times.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise before a slow smile spread across your face. “You sure you’re ready for that? Seeing me in person might ruin the illusion.”

“Doubt that,” Joel said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take my chances.”

The day of the meeting came quicker than Joel expected. He stood outside the small café you’d chosen, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting. His heart was pounding in a way that made him feel like a damn teenager again, but he couldn’t help it. This wasn’t just any meeting. This was you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Miller. When and where?”

————

He looked around waiting to see you, and then Joel froze. There you were, standing just a few feet away, your face illuminated by the golden afternoon light. You looked just as he remembered, and yet somehow different—like time had added something to you, something he couldn’t quite put into words. His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t move.

And then your eyes met.

It hit him like a punch to the gut, the kind of emotion he thought he’d buried long ago. There was no escaping it, no pretending it wasn’t there. The way you smiled at him, tentative and warm, like you were testing the waters but already knew the outcome—it was enough to undo him completely.

“Joel,” you said softly. It was the same voice he’d been hearing in his head for years, the one he’d convinced himself he could live without. But now that it was real, there was no going back.

“Hey,” he managed, his voice rough and uneven. He took a step closer until he was standing right in front of you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the weight of the years between you pressing down and then lifting all at once. Joel’s eyes traced every line of your face, every detail he’d missed, and he felt something settle deep in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was undeniable, inevitable. Whatever this was, whatever it could be—there was no stopping it now. Joel knew it, and by the way you looked at him, he knew you did too.

“Guess we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said finally, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your own smile soft but full of promise. “We do.”

And as Joel held the door open for you, letting you step inside first, he felt it—the certainty that this wasn’t the end of something but the beginning.

Whatever came next, he knew one thing for sure - you were in it, and there was no turning back.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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caystar13star · 2 days ago

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Saw this on facebook and had some angsty Jake Seresin thoughts. Jake, who was kicked out in his teens with basically the clothes on his back because his dad caught him with a boy out behind the barn. Jake who has zero contact with his family, who has no pictures, no keepsakes, absolutely nothing that shows he existed before he entered the Naval Academy, where he carefully crafted the face he would show the world, the armor he would hide behind.

Two people initially made it through that armor. Javy, who slowly earned Jake’s trust by showing him unwavering loyalty and love. Javy’s family basically adopted him the first time he went home with Javy.

Then there was Bradley. Bradley was his perfect match in every single way. He loved that man with everything he had in his patched-up, scarred heart. Bradley had his own issues and insecurities though, and they just couldn’t stay together.

After the mission, Jake and Bradley were finally working things out, and Jake was slowly letting in the rest of the Dagger Squad as well. They ended up taking a trip to visit Bob’s uncles (and Bradley’s formerly-estranged uncles) in Texas. Jake was acting off, and no one, not even Javy knew what his problem was.

They were less than twenty miles from the town where Jake grew up.

On one outing, they ended up in a thrift shop because Bradley liked to shop for new (old) Hawaiian shirts wherever he went. Jake was trailing him idly, not paying attention to much as his eyes darted around looking for familiar faces he hadn’t seen in more than a decade.

Phoenix called across the room, catching his attention, and for once he was glad she didn’t use his actual name. “Hey, Bagman! Come here a minute!”

Javy turned and looked at what had caught her attention and his face instantly dropped. He tried to stop her from talking but Jake and Bradley were already there.

“Isn’t your middle name Thomas? I remember some of the guys at the academy calling you JT, right?”

They had. Just like the boys he grew up with. He shut that down as quickly as he could. Jake felt Bradley’s arm wrap tight around him as he stared at the concrete evidence that he had actually been wanted at one point in his life.

The plate read “Jacob Thomas Seresin” with a sleeping cowboy in the center. He remembered that his grandmother had made a blanket that matched it for his bed. His birthday, birth weight, and the cursed time he entered this world were all blazed across the porcelain.

The decorative plate that had been carelessly donated to the local thrift store.

Mav walked up, wondering why his daggers were being so quiet. He saw the plate Phoenix was holding, and remembered the details from Jake’s file (and the little Bradley had told him) about Jake’s lack of family.

Stepping between them, he reached out and carefully pulled the plate where he could read it. He reached up to put his arm around Jake as well, feeling the aviator collapse against him.

“Well, this is just the cutest. I’ll have to put this on the wall in Ice’s office. So we’ll have both our sons represented there.”

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #icemav #hangster #javy coyote machado #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky

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unluckilyimnot · 5 hours ago

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Friend trying to win your bf over/talking shit behind your back

Characters: isagi, sae, rin, karasu, nagi

Note : I did this for a request but I'll do it with more fandom (genshin and windbreaker), so tell me if anyone want one with a character in particular (hc / one shot...) or another fandom

Tr ver.

m.list | rules

Sae

Sae's not there to be fucked around or around people he loves

So let's just say that your friend looking down on you will only happen once

He hates the way she interrupts you to talk about her own feelings or point of you to HIM

Why would he care about someone else?

"Nobody cares. Go on, Dear."

He's not scared to speak for everyone since he clearly realized she's trying to steal time and space from you specifically

He's the type to just stop listening to her of answer her – not that he paid much attention before

It's almost boring how quickly he reacts, but he can't accept someone hurting you when your his everything

Rin

Same as Sae, he's not open to other people and rarely care about them

He's less blunt though

He doesn't really like your friend for the start but he'd almost admire her persistence if it wasn't turned against you

He's lost count of how many times he just sighs at her face or side eyes her to death when she's trying to be better than you

He'll generally put up with it if you can defend yourself but he also turned her down a lot when he's tired of it

He's impressed how quick you shut her up the second she tries to touch him though

He hates it and you can't put up with that, she can try to look down to you in front of your bf but she can't step too close in his personal space

Rin convince you to cut her off after that

Yoichi

Does realize what's she trying to do but LATE

He really thought for a long time that she was just trying to be included and to get to know what he liked so he wasn't left out

He also told you that you were exaggerating the few first times you mention her attitude

It honestly put your relationship in danger bc he couldn't get himself to push her away when she got a bit too close to him or he ended up listening to her more than you

It took his friends to mention her weird attitude around you two, PLUS you yelling him to open his eyes before he finally get to realize she was like this only with him

And how much she looked down on you on every chance she had

He's more than quick to turn her down after that and oh gods, he's doing his best to regain your trust

Karasu

He's not buying her overly cute and harmless behavior but still let her a chance

He also get the chance to understand why you think so low of yourself, with friends like her around

He's careful around her, staying close to you, paying close attention to you and assuring you that you're doing enough when she tries to push you down

He's sick to see that she's always trying to get close to him even if he brings every conversation to you, even if you're not here

He push her away before you get the chance to do so, and then insisted for you to cut her from your life

Nagi

He's honestly not interested in anyone but you and his few close friends, so let's say it doesn't go the way she wants to

She can talk to him all she wants, he's not listening, he doesn't even realize it's for him

He only thinks she's full of herself and boring to be around

You're probably annoyed and frustrated at first, and you talk to him about it

But when he tells you that he find her so boring you can't help but laugh and let her do so much before cutting her off

But not before nagi told her himself that she's so boring he wants to leave every time he sees her

Let me know if you liked it !!

#blue lock x reader #blue lock hc #blue lock headcanons #blue lock fluff #isagi x reader #sae x reader #rin x reader #karasu x reader #nagi x reader

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wandering-pirate · 13 hours ago

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Mouthwashing Crew Headcanon

The Crew has a Crush~

You, it's 🫵🏻

Captain Curly

You walk into the control room, and Curly’s full-on beefing with the ship’s voice assistant

Turns out, he programmed it to be more “human” for fun... welp, the AI's definitely having fun roasting the captain

“I’m the captain! You’re supposed to obey me!”

“Obey? Sir, you can’t even obey a map.”

You're struggling to keep it all together because Curly’s already TOMATO RED from embarrassment (and maybe from the fact that you’re watching)

He tries to play it cool, though

“This is just a glitch. Totally fixable.”

“Yes sir, I'm fixable. What’s not is your love life, tho.”

The crew knows he’s into you, and now even a literal system algorithm's joining in on the teasing

The man's not even surprise when the voice assistance turned a 180° on you and treated you like a queen... he ain't complaining tho

Nurse Anya

You came to the med bay for a papercut

You’re expecting, like, a band-aid or maybe some ointment, but what you got was a full medical intervention

“This could get infected. Let’s disinfect, bandage, and monitor it. For safety.”

“…It’s just a papercut.”

She keeps pulling out stuff from the cabinet:

Medical tape, okay so far

Gauze... a bit...much

Wait, is that... surgical gloves?

You’d think you crawled in with a gunshot wound

When she actually started treating your cut, she goes on a call mute, like she’s concentrating way too hard and you can't reach her

You catch her sneaking glances at you...cute

But what makes it more diabetically adorable is with both your slight accidental touches

She’s immediately short-circuiting, mumbling “sorry, does it hurt? wait, why would it hurt?? oh my gos--”

Girl is fighting for her life over brushing your sleeve while she's fully holding your hand with both hands

Meanwhile, Swansea’s strolling past the med bay, just shaking his head like, “Anya, just tell ‘em you like ‘em already."

Co-pilot Jimmy

You’re helping Jimmy with a minor maintenance task (he totally didn’t ask for your help; you just “showed up,” okay?)

He’s being his usual smug self, but you know he’s flustered because he keeps snapping at you for no reason

“Don’t touch that, you’ll mess it up."

“I literally haven’t even touched anything yet.”

“Well, don’t think about touching it either!”

He’s trying to show off and “teach” you, but keeps fumbling because you’re watching him too closely

The crew’s already onto him. Curly literally walked past once and muttered, “Subtle, Jimmy. Real subtle.”

“SHUT UP, CURLY.”

“…Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I mean--just stay over there. Quietly.”

He’s the human equivalent of a malfunctioning toaster, and it’s both annoying and adorable

Mechanic Swansea (Gruff Dad Energy™)

You pranked Swansea by hiding his tools, thinking he’ll just scowl and grumble like usual...huge, BIG mistake

This man plays chess while you’re playing checkers

The next day, everything you own is missing: Shoes? Gone

Favorite mug? Gone

Your bunk? Covered in engine parts

Swansea doesn’t even deny it, just smirks and chuckles, “Don’t start wars you can’t win, kid.”

But here’s the thing: later, you find your stuff neatly returned with a plate of snacks he definitely didn’t make (he asked Curly "what young'ins like these days" and got a canned latte from the vending machine)

He never forgets to remind you that he doesn't care... sure, Swans, the dad energy definitely NOT palpable

Daisuke (Your #1 Fanboy)

Daisuke decides to “help” you cook one day

By “help,” I mean he’s hyping you up like you’re Gordon Ramsey while also lowkey getting in your way

“Y/N, you’re amazing. Look at how you chop those veggies, Bob Ross for foodies. You should open a restauran- no, actually, you should open a chain.”

“...Dai, the stove's literally barbecuing your shirt."

He panics, trips over his own feet and in one catastrophic motion, takes down a pot of soup, a chair, and somehow a shelf that wasn’t even near him

The room is wrecked. But before anyone can process, he just shoots up from the floor, finger guns and grins “DON’T WORRY. THE SOUP'S FINE.”

At this point, you don’t even question when this whole fanclub started. Probably cause you're the only one slipping him some sweets every once in a while (you're aware of the man's sugar addiction)

Having a personal hype man is great, even if he’s one accident away from taking down the whole ship

The whole crew's in pure chaos. What have you done to them??

Jimmy’s crush is LOUD, flustered, dramatic and side-eyeing Curly and Anya when they're standing within a foot of your proximity

Curly’s out here showing his 'captain privileges', but one compliment and he’s short-circuiting, probably off to “check the crew” (aka scream into the void)

Anya? Combusting at the slightest thank-you for the snacks and meds and also avoiding eye contact like it’s a sport

And Daisuke? Man’s your 24/7 cheerleader, yelling “YOU’RE AMAZING!” at 6 AM while trailing you like a puppy. The rest of the crew’s this close to losing it ’cause he’s stealing their thunder

Everything's unfolding while both you and Swansea watch side by side

The man sighed and muttered something under his breath. He’s got the tiniest smirk, though

“Yeah, these idiots are on you now.”

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alwaysobsessed777 · 3 days ago

Note

okok so for the nika angst how about it’s something with her injury and reader trying to help her and it’s appreciated but nika feels helpless since reader helps with everything and nika starts closing herself off ??

idk something like that 🤷‍♀️

FINE LINE - N.M

finally finished this one after the long day I had (which was literally just shopping and watching the UConn game). So please...enjoyyy and hopefully it's not to bad.

Not sure the word count but there is no warnings!!

"hey, Niks. I'm gonna head to work, um, do you need anything before I go?" A simple question. Nothing that could be taken the wrong way.

"Nope."

"Okay...I'll pick something up for us to eat on my way home, if you want me too."

"Sounds good."

My lips form a thin line, "Okay, just text me something you'd want. I love you."

"Love you."

I didn't want to think to much into it, but since nika's injury, I've tried my best to be the supportive girlfriend who stays by her side. But something just seems off with her anymore. I don't know if it's just the fact that's she's injured that keeps her down...or if I'm smothering her with my presence.

I made my way to work, helping the Seattle storm players stay up on workouts and anything else they needed. Quickly, I finished whatever paperwork was thrown at me. At this point, the job had lost its charm. Everything felt broken. Between the players, the staff, everything was finally falling apart...and I had no control over it.

"You good there?" Jewell's voice broke through whatever had been brewing in my mind.

"I guess," rummaging through the file I had been trying to sort, something to keep my mind off everything else. Which, clearly wasn't working.

The woman moved her way to the desk, leaning against it, "you don't sound so sure."

"I'm not."

The teasing seemed to dissipate once those two words left my mouth. "Y/n, is everything good? If you needa talk, the teams right here."

"I...I don't know. Everything seems to be falling apart." Jewell titled her head, as if to tell me to keep going.

"The team is falling apart. Whether it's the staff or it's the players. Then there was nika's injury...and I feel like I'm losing her. She barely talks to me, I can't tell if I'm doing to much or not enough." I hadn't even realized the tears that started to fall, Jewell coming up to me to hold my hands, "I just feel like everything is slowly freeing itself from my grasp...and I can't do anything about it but watch. Watch the team start to hate each other. Watch everyone I work with rip each other's throats out cause there's no way for communication. And...and then watch my girlfriend fall deeper into whatever mental crisis she's going through until there's no way of getting her back." The sobs were uncontrollable. I hadn't realized how much I needed to talk to someone. I was so focused on everyone else. I forgot about myself, the one thing that was supposed to matter the most I let slip the furthest away from me.

"Hey, y/n, just take the rest of the day off," I went to argue, but Jewell just shook off my response, "don't worry about the team, don't worry about anyone in this building...other than you."

"I can't just leave."

"I'll talk to someone, explain what's going on. They'll understand, everyone needs a mental health day every once in awhile," The woman's soft smile sent a wave of comfort over me. The first feeling of comfort I've had in awhile, "and about Nika...I'm sure she's dealing with a lot. Going through an injury like an ACL tear, it takes a toll on every aspect of your life. Now I'm not giving her a reason to shut you out...but give her just a little bit of leeway."

I nod, fighting the urge to crash into her and just hug her....which goes right out the window the second she opens her arms inviting me in. Without a second thought, I bury my face in her shoulder, trying to take the comfort the woman was offering.

"How do I even talk to Nika? I've tried...nothing seems to bring her back to me...." Had I tried hard enough? Was it really my fault for her drifting away from me?

"Like I said, I'm sure there's a lot going on in that thick head of hers," a small chuckle escaped my lips, "but I'm sure she'll have a reason that made sense to her on why she was pushing you away. And please, if it's extremely stupid...let me know and I'll prove her how stupid that move was."

A smile spreads across my lips, "thanks Jewells...I needed this."

"I know...you looked like you were gonna throw this desk at me when I walked in."

"Whatever...I'm gonna go talk to Nika. I just need to know she's okay."

Jewell seemed to soften even more, "Nika is gonna be okay. Now or even a month away from now...she's gonna be okay."

"Thank you," she pulled me into another hug, letting me go, allowing me to make my way back to the apartment my girlfriend and I shared. The small place we've started to call home after just a couple months. Meeting about a year ago at UConn, the giant campus somehow leading to us meeting each other at one of the many cafes that were scattered throughout it. The way I had finished my studies for physical therapy and she had just finished her last year on the basketball team. I had been praying to get a job for Seattle storm since I was little, not being able to play but hoping to help the people who did. Then, Nika got drafted, sending her straight my way. We got close over her training camp days, which lead to her making the team, to her needing a place. I just happened to overhear and offered her a spot in my apartment. Little did I know she'd end up being my girlfriend a month later.

But here I was today...reminiscing the last couple months like our relationship was in the past. A sudden wash of dread spread throughout me, stopping me from getting out of my car as I sat in front of the apartment. I almost had to bribe myself with the fact that if I got everything out now, it'd all be fixed later.

Opening the door to the small place left me sick, walking up the stairs to our shared room was even worse. I stood in front of the closed door, quiet sounds floated around from the TV. I knocked a couple times; no answer. I opened the door slowly, catching Nika sitting upright - hair down, hood over her head, covers pulled up to her chin - a dead stare right at the TV. Not even a little acknowledgement of me being her.

"Hey," it came out rough, hoarse. My nerves became uneasy. Knocking her head to the side, her eyes fell on mine, but it lasted no more than a second. "Can we talk?"

Nika tensed, "about what?"

I made my way to the bed, sitting beside the girl, "Us."

"Us?" Her head snapped in my direction. A wash of worry or nervousness flooded her face.

"Yeah," fidgeting with my hands, I continued, "Are you not happy...like...in our relationship? Am I being to much? Or maybe I'm not enough for you? Maybe I wasn't able to help you like I thought I would? I don't know, I probably shouldn't have brought you back here, to Seattle, when you could've just went back hom-"

Nika's hands made contact with mine, her body moved to be faced towards me. "Are you unhappy?"

"...I...I don't know."

Nika's eyes widened, shock, worry, nervousness, anything and everything seemed to hit her like a truck in that very moment. "Y/n...I'm sorry...maybe we should end things."

Tears swelled in my eyes, this wasn't anything that I was expecting. "You wanna break it off?"

"I...I don't know," the girl started, staring off at the small contact that we were making, "maybe it'll be better for you. You could live your life without worrying about me 24/7. Maybe you'll find more time to be with your friends instead of stuck in bed with me. Maybe you'll start to love your job again without having to worry if I'm upset that you get to work and I don't. Maybe you'll be able to actually live your life without having to worry about the disappointment you come home to everyday. Maybe you'll be able to find someone who will be able to treat you the way you're supposed to be treated. I love you too much to keep you stuck in the house with me. I love you so much I need to let you have a life, not for you to only care about mine."

Tears fell from her cheeks, sobs erupted out of me. The stress and hurt of Nika's words hitting me harder than anything else ever has. "Nika...I love you...I don't want anything but you."

Nika shook her head, "no...I'm a burden on you...I can't hold you down anymore."

"Nika...please...I can't live without you. I would do anything for you...even if it's ruining my life, I would ruin my life over and over again before I let you go." The brunette couldn't keep eye contact. Anything was better than looking at me at this moment. "Nika, I'm not letting you break us up."

"Why? I can't be the girlfriend you deserve. I'm stuck here...and you just get stuck with me."

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Niks."

Her eyes fell on mine, "I just don't understand...I can't even stand myself right now."

"And I will always be able to stand you... I'll do more than just 'stand' you, Nika, I'm always gonna love you." Her eyes fell again, she pulled me into her. A hug. The first one she's initiated in awhile.

"I'm sorry," her voice breaking, "I...I just want you to be happy."

"I'm always happy...but that's only because I'm with you, Nika."

She let out a soft chuckle, "I don't know what I'd do without you, y/n/n."

A smile, small, but still a smile stretched across my face, "I don't know what you'd do either."

She moved to look me in the face, "you're the only thing that's getting me through this injury...I hope you know that."

"I'm just glad to hear I'm helping you at all," I take her hand in mine, a soft spark ignited between us.

"I know I haven't said it to you-"

"you haven't really said much in awhile."

Her face softened more, "I know, and I'm sorry about that, but I just want to let you know... you're more than enough for me. Over the last couple weeks...I had this feeling that I was becoming a burden on you...and I thought if I separated myself from you, you'd finally realize I wasn't enough for you."

"Nika..."

"Y/n...I want nothing more than you in my life, always and forever."

"And you'll get that...cause I'm not going anywhere." A easy quiet settled between us, she moved to lay in my arms while I rubbed gently on her arm. Her breaths seemed to fall into a steady pace, a pattern. She fell asleep...in my arms...but things just felt easier. A weight lifted off my shoulder, and I'm sure it was the same for her.

I placed a soft kiss on her head, settling my head on hers. Drifting away to sleep that was almost inevitable, I whispered three words, "I love you." Those three words I would never go without telling the woman in my arms. I wanted her to know I meant them ...even in her worst moments.

A/n hopefully this is to your liking (the person who requested this) and it was more angsty than what I usually write.

#wbb #nika muhl #wnba basketball #wnba #wcbb #wnba players #uconn wbb #womens basketball #wbb x reader #nika muhl x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 12 hours ago

Text

Same as it ever was 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Happy Tuesday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Promise, Pete, I’ll get her back in one piece,” Hansen vows with a wink and a nudge.

You sit helpless in his passenger seat. He has one hand on the open door as he faces your husband. Pete won’t look at you but you can barely do the same of him. Funny, how you’re so eager to be away from him that you’re not even that bothered at the prospect of spending the day with your boss.

“You’re a life saver. Really. Never had a boss that cool,” Pete says.

“Well, you know, I gotta admit. Your wife carries a big load at work. She’s saved my ass more than once and she kinda holds the whole place together. I’m sure you know exactly what that’s like, huh?” Hansen proclaims.

“Uh, yeah I do,” Pete has the decency to sound ashamed. It’s too bad he couldn’t have seen that years ago.

“Lucky man. We’re gonna figure it out. She’s strong, we both know you can’t keep her down,” he clicks his tongue.

“Right, uh, well, I could take her if it’s easier.”

“What? Pete? You were just telling me about that big meeting. Good luck!” He slaps Pete’s shoulder. “You’ll have to bring us some good news.”

“Uh, right,” Pete grumbles, “um, honey, I... I love you. I hope the doctor can help.”

“Thanks,” you say curtly. “Don’t wanna be late.”

“Gotta listen to the wife, right? Always knows best,” Hansen chortles. “Watch out, sweetheart, don’t wanna catch you.”

He closes the door as you keep your head straight. Their voices are muffled and you’re thankful for the mental break. The two of them don’t stop. You don’t know how you didn’t see the similarities before.

You close your eyes and Lloyd drops into the driver’s side. You don’t flinch. He turns the engine and you stay just as you are. He pulls out and the motion sends a ripple through you. The painkiller might have something to do with that.

“So, the old man and you are... icy,” he says.

“That’s personal.”

“Well, baby cakes, think we’re well past blurring lines,” he scoffs.

“What do you care?”

“Hey, I’m not entirely heartless. My balls just happen to be more sensitive,” he snickers. “Trust me, I’m not getting sentimental. I want you back to operational. That means whatever stick is lodged up your ass needs to come out so mine can get in.”

“Disgusting,” you growl.

“Mm, please, talk dirty to me, baby,” he purrs.

You snap your mouth shut and grimace. You can’t help but think of the night before. Of Pete all over you. Just like the man beside you, he didn’t listen either. Your own husband...

“Jesus, I know you’re high on percs but try to lighten up,” he intones.

You rub your cheek and pry your eyes open, “are you really taking me to a doctor?”

“As much as I’d rather be taking you to a penthouse and breaking your back more than it already is, yes, I’m taking you for real help. I got a magic mustache and even better tongue but I can’t fix whatever the fuck happened to you,” he shakes his head. “And judging by the way that creature had his tail tucked up where his dick should be, I think he had something to do with it.”

He sniffs and squints at the road. He gives a thoughtful hum.

“Petey doesn’t seem like the wife beater type, but I guess-”

“The fuck? He didn’t-- Argh!” You grip your hip and spasm as you tense at the accusation. “He didn’t... mean to. I slipped.”

“Huh, dropped you? Man can’t handle all of you, can he?”

“Hansen,” you warn.

“I could give him some lessons, if you want.”

“Stop, please. I’m already going insane with you--”

“Oh, I know, I got that something that makes the ladies go wacky,” he preens.

“Urgh, for the love--”

“Relax. Please. You really can’t help yourself. You’re making it worse. Legit. You’re getting actually butthurt because you can’t let up for one minute,” he reprimands. “I’m dying to get in there and loosen you up but you gotta meet me halfway. So chill.”

You growl but try to take his advice. The tension is too much. If you keep going on like this, something’s going to give. With what the doctor said about your blood pressure, it could even be your heart.

You watch the road. It’s nice to not be in control. To not be taxiing someone around; to not be the one worried about time or anything. Still, it’s that underlying reality that keeps you edgy.

Lloyd pulls in at a clinic on the north end. It’s the kind you could never afford. You’re pretty sure you get a free Costco membership just for being a patient.

As he parks, you sit up. He tuts, “now, you let good old Lloyd help you with your broken tush, babykins.”

You send him a derisive look but don’t argue. The painkiller is kicking in and makes even him tolerable. He gets out and you watch him come around.

He opens your door and with uncharacteristic caution, slides his arm behind you. You lean on him as you stand. He’s actually helping you. Your back buckles but he keeps you steady. He closes the door with his other arm and ushers you slowly across the lot.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask.

“What?” He laughs. “I’m helping you, sweet cheeks.”

“Exactly. You’re helping me. Why?”

“I’ve been pretty honest how hungry I am for the peach,” he returns.

“It can’t be just that.” you growl. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, I know you aren’t. That’s half the fun. Easy enough to get a bimbo on my desk. Boring, now that I think of it--”

You hiss and grab onto his forearm to keep from collapsing. You hate that you’re latching onto him for comfort. At that moment, you don’t have much else; in several ways.

“Easy, alright,” he coaxes. “We’ll get you inside and sitting down. Hopefully it’s not as bad as it looks.” He whistles as he approaches the doors and kicks the automatic door button. “You’re looking rough.”

“Gee, thanks, Hansen. You really know how to flatter a woman.”

“More like flatten but we’ll get to that.”

“Gah,” you snarl as he ushers you through the lobby. “You are the most vile man I’ve ever met.”

“Ah, you really think so?” He angles you with him as he approaches the elevator and reaches to tap the button. “I don’t got a wife and kids at home waiting for me as I’m fucking the intern. Nah, I’m just tempting a working mom into adultery--”

“Shut the fuck up!” You bark as the doors open. An elder woman is wheeled out at she sends you an appalled gape. Lloyd smiles and guides you into the elevator.

“Not hard to piece together, you know?”

“I’m telling you,” you warn him as the lobby is shut out by the metal doors. “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s not and I don’t really care if Pete is boning the assistant he’s underpaying. But it explains a lot.”

“Does it?” You snip.

“Oh yeah. The way you leak like a faucet whenever I’m near for one--”

“Gross.”

“And the skill. Ma’am, I know you’ve been dreaming of it in that empty bed. The neglected wife, wiling away her spare hours, longing... well, here I am, baby, your knight in shining armour.”

You whimper. The pain in your back is dull enough that you can bear it. It’s his needling that’s driving you up the wall. You need him to stop. You need everything to stop. You need one day when you’re not a plaything, not a wife, not a mom.

“Keep sneering at me but we both know you came yesterday and it had nothing to do with the pills,” he taunts smugly. “So let me fix you up and I’ll give you all the Os you can handle.”

🗄️

“It’s not a fracture,” the doctor turns away from the black and white images. “But I’m sure it hurts. You definitely bruised the bone but from what I can tell, your muscles are tight. It’s adding pressure to the trauma point. Pinching on a nerve or two.”

You nod. It’s a relief that you didn’t break anything it’s not entirely great news. Lloyd turns away from the skeletal diagram on the table. “So, she’s fine?”

“She’s in a lot of pain, isn’t she?” The doctor says. “She needs to go home. Relax. Sleep, if you can.”

“Anything I can do to help?” He offers. “I really can’t stand to see her like this, doc. It makes me feel so powerless.”

He touches his chest dramatically and you make a face.

“Gentle massage. Just tender. Nothing to intense. Don’t push on anything,” he explains. “Warm bath if you can bear it, ice too. You said you have a support cushion?” You nod. “If you have to sit up, use it.”

“I can handle that,” Lloyd drawls. “I can be gentle.”

He smirks at you as you send him a sharp look. His lashes flick and his irises flare. You could punch him in the face and you think it would only egg him on.

“Doc,” Lloyd nears him, “thanks. I owe ya. I’ll have a bottle of scotch sent to the practice.”

“Just doing my job but I don’t mind a good cask-aged bottle.”

“Consider it on its way,” Lloyd assures him and turns to you.

You thank the doctor and let Lloyd help you off the bed. You don’t have the strength or energy to resist. It’s just the same as the last professional prescribed. Rest. You think he might just have to listen to the experts and give you a break.

“Alright, let��s get you home, baby,” he cooes as you pass through the waiting room. You catch the glance of a woman who watches with envy as her husband slumps with arms crossed and resists a midday nap. If only she knew the type of man Lloyd truly is.

He reclines the seat in the car for you. You close your eyes. The pills make you tired, just like everything else.

The smooth motion of the car lulls you. You startle as you find yourself still. Lloyd lifts you from the seat and you spasm. You whimper and he clucks.

“There ya go, making it all worse again,” he chides.

You grab onto his shoulder. You can’t help but think of how Pete let you fall. You fear another crash down to earth.

“I work out, baby face, don’t fucking worry,” he assures you.

You furrow your brow and look around. You’re not in your neighbourhood. You thought he was taking you home. Instead, you’re staring up at one of those overpriced modern builds.

“It’s glorious, isn’t it? The high life.”

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing you could say that could convince him you’re not covetous, because you are. You could’ve gone down this road. You could’ve skipped the dry marriage and the fussy kids.

That thought scourges you with guilt. You love your children and once upon a time you loved your husband too. It can’t be a mistake if it made you happy once. Simone and Malik still do make you happy. Hopeful, even.

He brings you through the front door and strides into the airy front room. The windows stretch from ceiling to floor and let in the day. He lays you on the spacious sectional, the cushions wide enough for two, and he drags a pillow over for you.

You close your eyes, content to just be in one place.

He tugs your shirt up and exposes your stomach. You tug it back down and your lashes snap open. He tilts his head at you.

“Baby, I’m helping.”

“Leave it,” you warn.

“What’s the problem? I saw it all before.”

You glare at him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to gawk at you. He doesn’t need to count the ways you can’t compare to Kendra and those other pretty interns. Just like the one your husband is fucking.

“Leave that at the goddamn door,” he says as if he can read your mind.

He yanks again and you relent. Whatever. You’re just something to be used. For Pete, you’re a dishwasher and a laundry machine. For Lloyd, you’re a piece of flesh and fodder for his twisted ego games.

He undresses you with a tenderness so unlike him. His hands rove up and down your body with each piece he removes. When you’re completely exposed, you cover yourself futilely with your hands. He tweaks your nipple then toys with it.

“Gotta turn you over,” he winks. “My favourite position.”

“You can’t--”

“Relax, I’m not gonna finish the job,” he taps your thigh.

He helps you shift onto your side. You groan and grunt with the effort. You hug one of the cushions and lean onto it, your back to him. He flutters his fingers down your side and goosebumps rise over your skin.

You shiver and he chuckles, “feels nice, huh? See, I can be a good boy.”

You don’t reply. You close your eyes and cling to the strands of delight. That relief is so fleeting. He drags his fingers up and down and around your lower back. He sweeps around your hip and retraces the same path. Your muscles quiver but unwind.

“That’s it,” he encourages you.

You moan as the heat of his fingers seeps into you. It’s nice. You haven’t feel this placid in so long. Your head stirs and your limbs slacken. You forget the world and just let yourself be in that feeling.

His hand creep along the back of your thigh then between your legs. He wiggles between them and you flinches. He pushes against your slit and rubs the side of his index against your clit.

“Hansen,” you rasps.

“Shhhh,” he hushes you. “Doctor’s orders. You need to relax.”

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