#it's a circle of love that's all this show is

[7hursday]

nanami kento’s a gentleman — which can be seen with how sweetly he treats you and how much he appreciates and loves you; although you can’t really say the same for his behavior in bed.

his hands are grabbing onto the underside of your knees, holding you in a mean mating press. “c—can feel your pussy clampin’ down on my dick— shit,” he hisses, although he keeps his movements tame as to not hurt you.

your words have become increasingly pleasure-filled and incoherent, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your clit swells with every thrust of his cock that has his pubic bone brushing against it. “ken, a—agh, slow down- ngh!”

he listens, slowing down his pace and allowing you to catch your breath — or so you thought.

while he did show you some mercy, he angled his hips differently and slammed into you with his cock, reaching even deeper and almost bruising your cervix. “fuuuuuck, this is way better. you gotta cum on my dick, baby. need to have you squirt and make a mess on my shit, yeah?”

the pure filth of his words’ got stars swimming in your vision, legs trembling and aching as your pussy tightens around his length almost suffocatingly, almost halting his movements. “‘m gonna cum, ken, please,” you begged, hand going down to rub circles into your clit.

he smiles, leaning forward and going harder, faster — “you gonna cum, baby? show me how slutty that pussy is? tell me how good my dick makes you feel, come on.”

nanami kento didn’t need words, no — why would he when your pussy squirting all over his cock and getting filled up with his cum is all he needs?

a/n: does this make sense? i wrote this completely horny and smut-brainrotted. nanami kento gotta slut me tf out.

[sarahsangelicdoll]

thinking about Rafe and somno (x/twitter p link !! don’t open in public)

cw; consensual somnophilia, dubcon, s1 Rafe, hints at ‘good girl’ reader, not exactly like the video but that’s ok 😅, soft!Rafe, wasn’t intended but he’s highkey soft in this 😅, unprotected p n v(always use protection!!) but Rafe pulls out.

a/n: wasn’t intending on making this so lovely dovey and soft but it is and tbh i’m not complaining 😭

Rafe snuck in through your window, having previously been waiting for about ten minutes in his truck for you. His messages going through and on read but no reply from you. Why didn’t he walk through the door like a normal person? Well because your parents were curled up on the couch next to each other watching whatever old, rich, obnoxiously fake, stuck up rich people watched. Probably similar to the bullshit shows his parents watched.

He grunted as his feet landed on the floor and he finally hopped himself into your room. making a mental note to find an easier way up to your window. Just as he was about to speak and ask you why the fuck you weren’t responding to him he saw you on your bed, still in your clothes from earlier that day, phone in hand and sleeping away. He smirked slightly as he took in your sleeping figure, looking all pretty. He strolled over to your bed and took your charging phone out of your hand on onto the bedside table, about to shake you awake before he recalled something.

That something being a post-sex conversation he had with you about a month ago. How you went on about how hot it would be if you woke up to him using you and that your body was ‘free to use’ even if you were sleeping. Perhaps it turned you on too much- even expressing being comfortable with the usage of roofie pills(Which Rafe respectfully stated that he’ll never do nor is comfortable with). But he’d be lying if he said the thought of waking you up with his cock when you least expect it didn’t get him worked up. But lying he did, hence why he’s waited so long to surprise you, wanting you to think he wasn’t into it.

Rafe bit his lip as his eyes trailed down your figure. He knew fucking you awake would be risky to do with your parents down stairs- but that just made the situation even hotter, and it’s Rafe- why would he care?

So within just a couple seconds his clothes were discarded and he was climbing onto your bed. His movements careful as to not wake you. He rested on his knees as his hands roamed up and down your curves, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hip. He sucked in a shaky and lustful deep breath as he hooked his finger under the waistband of your shirts and pulled them down along with your panties. Shifting your legs slightly to string the fabric off of your body and then throwing them off somewhere on the ground. Rafe bit his lip as he eyed your glistening, pretty folds, running a finger through them while his other hand gently placed itself back onto your ass and squeezed.

He shifted position again once your shorts and panties were off. Resting on his side. He reached over your body to lift your legs up further into your body in an almost sitting like position. Rafe let out a quiet groan as fisted his cock in his hand, looking down at your bare and vulnerable pussy.

Lifting his hand up to his mouth, Rafe spit into it and brought his hand back down to his cock and wrapped his hand around the base to spread the spit as a type of lube, his cock twitching at the pleasureful sensation. Rafe took his time as he shifted in his spot to easily run his cock up and down through your pussy folds, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. A smirk made its way onto Rafes face as he felt your body twitch at the sensation.

He teased himself as he circled the tip of his cock around your hole before sinking himself in, quickly biting his lip to stifle a loud moan from escaping his mouth as the warmth and tightness of your pussy enveloped his cock. Rafes mouth fell open in a quiet moan once he fully sheaved himself into your tight cunt. He had to wait a bit both for you and him: Him to get a grip on reality, already feeling like he’s in heaven and for your sleeping body to get used to it.

Once Rafe finally starts moving he has to bite his lip to prevents moans from spilling out of his lips. He couldn’t help himself from glancing up towards the door, heightening the pleasure and even a hint of fear at the thought of your parents waking up to see their perfect, innocent and precious daughter getting used in their sleep. His thrusts stayed more on the gentle and slow side but steady pace, planting his larger hand on the flesh of your ass and squeezing lightly.

He couldn’t help but admire your sleeping position, hair messy and thrown around your pillows. Breathing steady and gentle. Dreaming about god knows what.

Rafes breathing got more breathy and quick as he felt you shift slightly and pussy clench around his cock. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to be deeper and in your plushy walls. So he shifted his position once again, hovering his body over yours as he kept himself up by his fists, planted on either side of you. His body was practically caging yours as he breathed in your scent. The new position letting Rafe fuck you both easier and deeper. Your walls felt so good around him and the slower pace felt like a tease due to the lack of your moans, noises n reactions to help him get off, so he couldn’t help but speed up his pace.

And that’s when you woke up, pussy clenching around him as you felt yourself regain consciousness from your nap, dazed and confused before you immediately felt something fucking itself into you and someone else’s body heat along your side. In your confused state you didn’t think properly and simply felt panicked when you looked and saw someone else’s body over you.

Rafe was too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to you waking up, missing the way your heartbeat sped up along with your breathing. He then froze slightly as he felt your hair shift against his face, lifting his head up to see the panic quickly settling onto your features. He stopped his thrusts and quickly darted his hand up to your mouth, preventing any noises before they even came.

“Hey- hey, just me babe.” He whispered, though his tone was slightly panicked itself, his own heartbeat speeding up.

Your eyes darted up to his as you heard his words, immediately feeling a wave of both relief and arousal come over you. Rafe grinned as he felt your breathing and heartbeat slow down and your eyes become wide with lust instead of fear, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and squeezed lightly, grin still plastered on his face as he lowered his head down to your neck, breathing in your scent before speaking teasingly through kisses. “Good nap?”

You let out a yawn, followed by a moan as his thrusts picked up again and he started placing soft kisses to your neck. “Yeah… even better was when i woke up.” You teased back, grinning slightly as your hands made way to his hair.

Rafe chuckled as he brought his head back up from your neck, typical cocky grin spread on his face. “Imagine how your parents would feel if they walked into me fucking their perfect daughter? And finding out she asked for it previously.” He continued to tease, leaning back up to put enough space between his and your bodies to allow him to push your body down onto your back instead of your side, moving your leg over as well before he enveloped your body into his again. Rafe’s elbows resting on either side of your body.

Leaning down, Rafe captured your lips into a kiss before you could come out with some smart comeback. His hips rocking back into yours as his hands explored your curves. The usually agonizingly slow position feeling very pleasurable in this moment.

You two simply enjoyed each other’s company. Rafe moving his head back down into your neck to mark what’s his and hide the sounds of his own grunts and heavy breathing. You wrapped your legs around his hips as you let out soft but pleasure filled moans. Every sound you make sounding like absolute heaven.

“So pretty..” Rafe murmured into your neck as he glanced up at you, cheeks flushed as he bit his lip before speaking again. “Especially for just waking up.”

Your face flushed even more at his words as you giggled, biting your lip slightly as you looked down at him. “And you’re handsome.” You complimented cheekily, playing with strands of his hair. Rafe let out a shaky breath mixed with a moan at your words. Biting your neck as his pace slowly became less steady and more quick, signalling that he was about to cum.

Rafes hand found way down to your clit as he started rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves. Your own moans raising in frequency and pitch as you felt the sudden, overwhelming sensation on your clit, unmatching to his thrusts. It was such a perfect combination that made you feel like you were about to cum and go up to heaven in seconds.

You grabbed a fistful of Rafes hair as you felt that knot in your stomach slowly come closer and closer to snapping, letting Rafe know in a high pitched, attempting to be quiet breath. “Oh fuck.. ‘mma cum imma cum-“ You chanted, legs wrapping tighter around his hips as you squealed at Rafes fingers increasing their rushed pace on your clit.

“Yeah? me too baby, c’mon.” He said breathlessly, cock twitching inside you at your words. Placing one last sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your neck before letting out a loud moan, quickly pulling out as his cum decorated your stomach and pyjama shirt in long, white, sticky strings of cum. Your own arousal escaping you in clear liquid, absolutely soaking both your sheets and Rafes lower half.

The two of yours loud breaths were the only sound that filled the room as you both came down from your highs. Needless to say; that felt fucking amazing. Perhaps it was all the mix of taboo things; fucking upstairs while your parents watched tv and Rafe fucking you while you were asleep.

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle as he placed a kiss against your cheek and pulled away. Looking down at the absolute mess you made. He grinned as he glanced down at you; “Squirted from this?” He asked, teasing you as if that wasn’t one of the most pleasurable orgasms he’s had.

You grinned back up at him as squeezed your legs together playfully to cover yourself. Nodding at his words, completely tired, blissed and fucked out. “Yeah, was so hot to wake up to that.” You said with an un-matching innocent sounding giggle. Stretching your arms over your head as you yawned.

“Yeah? that a sign i should sneak in and fuck you while you’re sleeping with your parents downstairs more often?” Rafe teased, Shifting to throw one leg off the bed and reach for a random article of clothing to dry the two of yous up.

“Yes.” You replied simply but tiredly, watching as he grabbed the piece of clothing, yawning yet again as sleep again threatened to take over your body.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile genuinely as he looked back at you and saw your sleepy expression. Leaning up and forward to give you a goodnight. “‘mk, now go back to sleep, i’ll clean this shit up.”

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours

⟡ ݁₊ . tagging muts: @moonlightrafe @bloodibambiidoll @winnie1emon @cameronsprincess @hvnlygrl

[snugglyporos]

// Christ I wish I could go back in time and erase concepts like 'unconscious bias' from the world of popular lingo because people apply it to things that they don't apply to. No, most people do not possess an unconscious bias that working class people are worth less than rich people, that's your classist ideology being applied to things that you shouldn't apply it to. We might call that a conscious bias.

What is actually happening is a mix of tropes being blended together and not changing over time. Namely, the idea that the more individuals there are, the weaker they are. We see this everywhere; fifty ninjas? Weak. Not a problem. One ninja? Super powerful. Legend. This exists in everything from James Bond movies to comics to Power Rangers.

The reality is that, narratively speaking, the random cannon fodder between the protagonist and the final boss do not matter. They don't! In real life they would, but if you tried to give ever goon a backstory and explain it you would have a shit story because the audience does not care about the backstory of unnamed good #23. After they take the punch from the protagonist, the audience has entirely forgotten they existed.

Which means that, narratively speaking, the killing of the main villain is more important and more impactful than the killing of some random goon. Now, if you're a good writer this shouldn't be the case. But this too, comes from the blending of genres and tropes.

In the late 1980s, fiction became more violent and more visceral. This means that a lot more violence was happening! And yet, writers still wanted to have their protagonist show that they were the protagonist, because people were all in on moral relativism. People would be like 'well, there's no difference between the hero and the villain if the hero kills the villain.'

The response was a lot of heroes started adopting a weird kind of no killing rule; Batman will break your fucking spine but kill the guy who just blew up a building? That's too far! 'I'm not like you, a guy who kills people, I just cripple them for life!'

And again, this is what happens when genre conventions (the hero should be morally superior than the villain, or at least attempt to be) mixing with trope developments (everything now needs to be brutal and violent to reflect real life).

Now, the circle has completed itself, where we're once again back to 1985, where people are like 'actually no, the hero should fucking kill that guy.' You'll probably be a big fan of the Death Wish movies and The Dark Knight Strikes Back; you know, things that lots of proto-fascists really love because they reinforce the notion that actually, heroes should wield violence against their enemies and impose their will through abject terror.

The reality is, people aren't sitting around going 'my work should reflect the idea that workers are less important than the boss' it's that narratively, the random goons exist to be smacked down to prepare the audience for the big bad, because rising action requires that there be rising challenges. This is mixing along with personal tastes in media.

Now, you could, for example, turn this new trope on its head and ask whether the Punisher murdering every jaywalker and low level drug dealer with extreme violence makes him a villain, because his ideal is that any lawbreaker should be murdered instantly no matter how low the crime. You might also argue that the trope should actually be that the grunts shouldn't be killed by the hero, but the guy who organized them should, because he's much worse than they are.

You could also argue that, the reason why the hero doesn't just kill the villain is that murder is wrong? Even if you think it's morally justified? I think people forget, when they fantasize about an ideal French Revolution, that the most common crime people were executed for was pickpocketing, and every day they would execute the guys who got caught working the crowds at the executions the day before. More poor people got killed in the French Revolution than rich people; you should probably keep that in mind!

Because the core reason you probably want your hero to not kill people in general is that you then have to ask who deserves it and your answer will inevitably include a lot of people you might actually like! You probably don't want heroes taking vague concepts like justice into their own hands because inevitably that makes them into the Death Wish protagonist, deciding that what really needs to happen is for a white guy with a gun to just start shooting up inner cities.

You don't want your hero to start killing people because this is corrosive and it will inevitably result in comparisons between people who got killed.

So no, it's not some kind of unconscious bias, it's because we've melted a worldwide demand for bloodshed and violence with established genre tropes and if you removed one or the other people would complain and be very unhappy.

Or, I guess you could go on and say that Freddy Kruger is anti-marxist because he only targets teenagers instead of people who really deserve it.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday requests If you're not too busy I would love another part to cinnamon rolls son. Love your writing, it really is a great inspiration, you got me out of my own writing slump.

The Justice League was at their wits ends with Dan. Disaster struck no matter what they attempted to ensure he developed some softer traits.

First, Barry had the bright idea to show him the wonders of volunteer work to help the community. If he could value the life of humans, surely he wouldn't destroy it in the far future. As a teenager, Barry had punched hours of volunteering in the local hospital to play and read to the sick children in bed.

He had done it because he enjoyed making children smile and built up his resume for college. Barry was many things, but being wealthy enough to afford college wasn't one of them. He wanted to apply for as many scholarships as possible, so he started his community service campaign from an early age.

On the first day of their community service, Barry had taken him to clean up the local beach. An hour into the work, a shark had been spotted near the swimmers, and Dan had dived in to rescue a little girl from its jaws.

Dan had been hailed a hero until he picked up the girl's father and threw him into the water towards said shark. The father had ignored his seven-year-old daughter for his mistress. Apparently, once Dan overheard the man panicking more about his wife finding out the beach father-daughter beach day was just an excuse to cheat on her than his crying daughter in the ambulance, Dan had figured he needed to be taught a lesson.

Dan stood over him while the man screamed and splashed, pointing and laughing. Were it not for the Flash's sudden appearance, well....Dan may have actually fed that cheating cum bag to the sharks.

Bruce added it to the shared drive, asking Barry to include a complete detailed report, by the hour, of what happened. They figured they could analyze Dan and find what could make him snap.

Next, Clark took Dan to his family farm. He claimed nothing brought up good children like his mother and father's gentle but firm parenting,g plus the wonders of the hard farmer life. Clark was sure Dan would enjoy all the open space, the animals, and working in the fields.

Within the hour of the pair arriving at the farm, Dan happily weeded around the field. Clark was somewhat surprised by how quick he took to the job. He went inside to help Ma ready some pie and Clark's legendary lemonade as a reward.

It only took a few minutes since Ma had already put the pie to cook before they arrived. The two were gone long enough that Clark could make a nice pitcher and take a few seconds to smell the mouthwatering pie.

He went back into the field carrying a tray of a plated two-slice pie and a cold glass cup, only to stop dead in his tracks. Dan was kneeling, laughing manically towards the sky, within the circle of burning weeds.

The flames were a green and black color. Its dark smoke shifted into what appeared to be screaming humans. The worst part, however, was the lines of what appeared to be renamed scarecrows wearing shackles as they harvest Pa's cornfield.

Clark was horrified.

Batman had added to the drive, "Gave life to inanimate things just to enslave them."

Hal was the next one to try, but no one knew what happened on their Become A Better Person trip. Hal refused to place a report, only stating that he could never look at Hawaiian pizza again. He threw up when Barry brought one in for a long meeting.

At least Phantom seemed happy they were still attempting to save his son. His daughter was also more well-behaved, spending most of her days traveling. It was strange to associate her with Phantom because if there was one thing Dani liked to do, it was pick fights.

She had fought through Darkside's defenses to challenge him to a pie-eating contest. She freed half of his planet on her way out, but not before beating them up to get them to listen.

Her father would have spent time trying to do things peacefully. Not Dani. She did stuff through her fists.

Batman had added classifications to the three ghosts in the file. Phantom was Lawfully good, Dani Chaotic good, and Dan was marked as Chaotic neutral. The rest of the league suspects that his children added those, but no one was brave enough to point it out.

[megalony]

Merciless Wrath

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine requested by anon, thank you all for the lovely feedback on my Gladiator fics so far. I hope you will all like it.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If there was one thing Geta knew would get the people's spirits up and gain both Emperors some favour with their people, it was his wife.

The people's Empress.

Geta had never seen the people rejoice so much as when he married (Y/n). The people loved her; they admired her and her calm nature and philisophic words and how she could settle any argument and bring a sense of calm to Rome.

Which was one of the reasons he had asked her to come to the colosseum today. The people were rejoicing, Rome had expanded her victories and gained another country to govern and rule over. This was a week of victory games of all makes and sizes and extravagance and Geta knew the people would be even more hyped and excited if their Empress showed up.

It hadn't taken much for Geta to convince (Y/n) to come to the games. He knew fighting wasn't something (Y/n) enjoyed to watch. Seeing blood spill over the sand and limbs being torn and discarded. Guts being exposed and spilled onto the floor, screams of anguish and the stench of death. It was all overwhelming and disgruntling for (Y/n) to witness.

She didn't see the pleasurable side of watching men fight to the death and maim and torture one another. She didn't feel that pleasurable ecstasy that her husband and brother in law did when they watched the games.

But (Y/n) didn't want to oppose her husband. He had asked her so sweetly if she would attend the games and be there by his side. How could (Y/n) refuse? When Rome had just expanded her victories and both Emperors were celebrating and being praised, it was (Y/n)'s place to be here beside them. She couldn't stay back in the palace and miss out on the games when she should be showing her support and appreciation.

Which was why she was now stood in the viewing box in the colosseum, her hand entwined with Geta's and her cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder while she tucked herself close into his side. Her right hand curled around his exposed arm and she leant into his side as they overlooked the arena.

She couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips when she glanced up at her husband. The smile he wore was somewhat wicked but devilishly so and it made his eyes narrow and crease as he looked onto their subjects. His lips were painted a pale shade of red and his features were the colour of milk with dark circles drawn around his eyes like a lunar eclipse.

His golden hair was neatly framed around his forehead and ears and the glittering crown he always wore was nestled neatly into his hair, making him every inch a God amongst humans.

(Y/n) liked the way Geta's rings flashed in the bright sunlight when he waved to the people, and the cuff on his left wrist which shone and sparkled like a twinkling star in the middle of the day.

Once the cheering of the crowds simmered down, they each took a step back towards the chairs set out for them. As always, (Y/n) took the centre chair so she was in between both Emperors.

It was so eerily strange to see the way Geta would sit straight with his chin pointed out and a stoic expression. Whereas when (Y/n) looked to her right at Caracalla, he sat like a child. One leg crossed over the other, slouched down in his seat with that sweet smile and his hands tapping away on the arm rests or clapping, depending on how exciteable he was.

Once she was sat down, (Y/n) leaned towards the left so she was nearer to Geta. She liked how, without taking his eyes off the colosseum, he slid his right hand towards her until his fingers curled around her own. He began to glide his thumb along the side of her hand and he squeezed every now and then while his other hand began to run along his chin and down the side of his neck.

"Okay?" He muttered and cast his eyes to the right to look over at (Y/n). Her smile dazzled him and he loved the feeling of her other hand moving so her fingers could trail up and down his arm that she was leaning against.

"Hm." She nodded and leant over to peck his cheek, an action that caused blood to rush to the surface beneath his painted skin.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be watching the games today. She would sit here and show support, but she would only be glancing down at the scene every now and then. She didn't mind seeing the start, the men gearing up to attack and the beginning of them toying and playing the part. But once the blood splattered and wounds were inflicted, (Y/n) would be looking away.

"Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" Those words, whispered against the side of (Y/n)'s temple took her by surprise.

She could feel her heart igniting in her chest, especially when Geta kissed her temple and nudged his nose against her skin before he leaned back in his chair again.

She turned to face him, noticing that his gaze was trained dead ahead as the first gladiators were being announced, but he spared her a glance when he felt her staring. And the sight of her smiling bashfully made Geta's lips quirk up to one side.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice." (Y/n) was sure he had told her at least four times already, but each time he did he made her heart fluctuate and had adrenaline swarming through her system.

When the first game began, (Y/n) tried to watch. She clenched her hand around Geta's and sat forward in her seat to try and see properly. She may as well show an interest until the wounds started to become inflicted and she would have to look away.

It was soothing to feel Geta's hand periodically squeezing hers and how his fingers would dance and tap against her skin like he had far too much energy or as if he wanted to join in the games. That would be too dangerous, of course, but (Y/n) had seen Geta when he trained. He was a vision with a sword and even more so with that devilish smile and his opponent on their knees begging for their life.

It didn't take long for the blood to be shed.

A few minutes, if that, of prancing around the arena, taking little jibes and swipes at each other. That all came to an end when the shorter fighter made a move and sliced a cut against his opponent's arm.

(Y/n) was okay for the first minute or two, being in this viewing box game the perfect angle and view of all the colosseum, but it did have the advantage of being high up and far off. She didn't have to see the wounds up close or see the damage clearly.

But being up here did mean that when one man struck his sword right through the other's abdomen, (Y/n) saw the blade come out flush the other side of the man's back.

Her stomach churned and she did her best to steel her expression while she turned to look at Geta instead.

He was used to it by now. In fact, Geta loved that whenever they witnessed the games, he would always find his wife staring at him. It was enticing and invigorating to watch the games knowing that his wife had decided to study his features instead.

He would often turn and see her smiling at him or find a lost, dazed look in her eyes. Sometimes he felt (Y/n) lean her chin on his shoulder and she would begin to trace the scars, marks and freckles on his skin. She would draw patterns across his skin and leave little kisses here and there and simply get lost looking at him until the games came to an end.

(Y/n) shuddered a little when Caracalla's excited chanting of "Kill him!" broke through the air, but she managed a smile and kept her eyes on Geta. Who leaned forward to watch the gladiator's demise.

(Y/n) kept drifting her eyes around the arena and then looking back to her husband as the next game began.

These two opponents were more rugged and ruthless than the last. They began by roaring and baring their sharpened, blackened teeth and they wasted no time in using the instruments they had been given to beat one another.

She found it interesting how easily these men were willing to fight, knowing they had a high chance of death. Their morals were very disgruntled, in (Y/n)'s opinion.

She turned her head at the wrong moment.

Her eyes cast down to the arena at the precise moment one man sliced his sword through the other's arm. His hand and wrist fell to the floor in one swift movement and a large splurt of blood began to paint the sand.

A gasp broke past (Y/n)'s lips and she quickly spun to the left as a tremor rattled through her. Both hands surged up to deadlock in Geta's robes and she buried her face into his chest, not caring how childish it made her look or who saw her.

A crooked grin spread across Geta's lips and he took the time to look down at his cherished wife before he looked back at the arena. He slouched back in his chair just a little and moved his right hand until his hand was cupping the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he could weave his fingers into her tendrils of hair. His touch was light and soft and he tilted his head down to peck the top of her head while his other hand began to glide up and down her arm.

It pleased him how she stuck to him and burrowed into him when she didn't want to witness the massacre. It made him feel loved and protective over her, how she sought comfort in him like this.

His fingers continued to stroke through her hair and his thumb brushed the back of her neck. His other hand remained on her arm, drawing patterns and creating a distraction for her to focus on while his sights remained on the game.

Although Geta's eyes did glance down towards his wife when he felt her move. She finally pulled her face up from where she was burrowed into his chest so she could stare up at him with her chin pressing lightly against his sternum. His hand remained still at the back of her neck and he inclined his head to the side, silently urging her to speak.

"I- I'm sorry, I can't watch-"

"Don't apologise for not having a violent heart. It's endearing." Each word was murmured against her temple and it caused (Y/n)'s stomach to jump with delight.

He found her lack of violence endearing. He loved how she shied away into him and couldn't bear to watch the torment and slaughter. He loved how compassionate his wife was and how she was being herself so freely before him and their people.

Once the fight finally ended and what was left of both men were dragged from the arena, (Y/n) pushed up from Geta's chest, but she stayed close to his side. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and her body leaning to the left so she was able to move both hands and curl them around Geta's arm.

Her eyes flitted about the arena and the colosseum, taking in the sights of the people cheering, leering and sitting forward in their seats to witness the next game with vigor.

Her fingers began to tap and parade across Geta's arm in an attempt to keep her mind off the next fight happening down in the arena. Every now and then, (Y/n) snook a glance at the fighters. There were more of them this time. Six gladiators, all with different weapons.

They were spaced around the arena, clearly trying to perform a longer fight to gain more attention from the crowds and create a more sumptous fight.

Some had shields, a few had swords or small thin blades. And one had a bow and arrow. That seemed unfair. Such a unique instrument needed distance to be used, but if the other gladiators got too close, it wouldn't be easy to hit them with an arrow. The instrument would have to be used like a spear instead and impaled by hand to make a difference.

This game seemed to be fuelled by chaos. (Y/n) pulled away from Geta a little so she could look down on the gladiators. They were moving too fast to keep an eye on who was who and which one had which weapon.

Blood painted the sand but the wounds were inflicted too fast for anyone to see who had been hit and where.

There seemed to be confusion around the colosseum, but (Y/n) couldn't make head nor tail of anything that was happening. She could hear Caracalla's fingers drumming away on the wooden arm rests of his chair, clearly becoming impatient and possibly a little riled up. And she knew Geta was sat up straight once again with his head tilted forward so he could try and decipher the game and who the victor might be.

Raised voices started to brood within the arena, but (Y/n) couldn't work out why, and she wasn't so sure anyone else in the colosseum understood either. No one knew why people were shouting from within the tunnels and windows within the base of the arena. No one knew why people were trying to open the gates when only one gladiator had fallen so far.

But then it happened.

An arrow, shot from one gladiator in the arena which wasn't aimed at any of his opponents.

The glimmering silver arrowhead pierced the sky like a bolt of lightning but it was so fast no one really saw it move. They only heard the wind breaking apart as the arrow broke through the amosphere.

(Y/n) had no time to move or gasp or even see what was happening before it was too late. The arrow hit her. The sharpened metal arrowhead pierced through her skin and hit her with such force that her body shifted and her back slammed back into the chair.

Her head slammed back into the wooden chair with enough force to cause her vision to blackout. Her body trembled but somehow stayed rigid in place and her heels slammed down into the floor as if to steady herself.

She screamed. A horrible, deafening sound that cut Geta right to the core as if the arrow had impaled him instead.

Geta twisted to the right, both hands grappling with the arm rest as he leaned over his chair to look at his wife. It was hard to keep his eyes on (Y/n) when he could hear everything else going on around them and he was desperate to look around the colosseum. He wanted to see the gladiators, to work out which one had stepped so far out of line that they were already dead. He wanted to see if people were trying to move and get closer or if they were trying to evacuate the colosseum.

But when he forced his darkened eyes to look at his wife, all the air seemed to block Geta's throat and his chest convulsed as his nose crinkled in unbridled horror.

Someone had shot his wife. An arrow had been aimed at them, right at the viewing box where no one was supposed to be able to reach or harm them from up here. An arrow had been aimed with such precision that it had pierced (Y/n)'s skin rather than simply passing her by or hitting the chair or the glasses of wine beside them.

Had they been aiming for (Y/n), or simply trying to hit anyone in the viewing box? It didn't really matter. Whoever shot this arrow had sealed their own fate. Geta would take heads for this.

He could hear Caracalla screaming and it only enraged him further. He didn't need people screaming, he needed them to help.

(Y/n) emmitted another scream before Geta even dared to reach his hand closer to the wound. Her body began to tremble but all Geta could do was stare at the arrow impaled in her skin.

It had gone completely through and come out the other side and the end of the arrow was imbedded in the wooden chair. She was pinned; skewered like a piece of butchered meat. It was two inches below her shoulder, just above her collar bone.

The sight of the blood was what made Geta's stomach churn. Blood and guts never bothered him, it was a sight he somewhat craved to see. But never like this. A droplet of his wife's blood being spilled in such a manner made him feel sickened. It was abhorant.

When (Y/n) screamed again and her body broke out in trembles, Geta scrambled out of his seat and moved so he was hovering in front of her. Slightly hunkered down until their knees were touching and he was all that she could see. Becoming a protective shield in front of her, just in case any more arrows or weapons were shot their way.

"G-Geta… oow…" A broken whine left (Y/n)'s wet lips as she looked from her husband to the arrow imbedded in her skin.

It hurt. It hurt so much. All the blood pumping around her body seemed to be circulating to her shoulder and no where else. All she could feel was the trickling of blood slithering down her chest and the agony that was throbbing in her shoulder and throughout her chest.

She couldn't stop the shaking that was making her rattle back and forth against the chair.

Had this ever happened to anyone before? Had any other Empress or Emperor been subjected to such cruelty whilst watching the games like this? She was supposed to be safe up here, protected. The gladiators shouldn't be aiming up here, they knew better, they knew they would be tortured for even attempting this. Let alone managing to wound anyone of royal blood like this.

"Okay, okay stay still. Shh, love."

Geta reached a tense, cold hand up so he could cup the side of (Y/n)'s face that was stained with tears and becoming flushed and glistening with sweat with each passing second.

His other hand gripped her right arm with fever and he tried to look at the wound.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help her? He had no knowledge of this. Geta was trained and brought up on how to rule and govern his people, not on how to treat fatal wounds such as this.

"Get a healer!" Geta's voice boomed and echoed off the stone walls and his face started to turn scarlet, rising through the painted white make up that became almost non-existent compared to the amount of blood rushing to the surface.

His lips began to blush and his teeth sank down into his lower lip until blood was sticking to his teeth and welling up over his lips.

He was glad when everyone in the viewing box began to dissipate. Caracalla was guided out with Acacius and his wife while the two Senates at the back of the box left almost immediately, trying to push their way out first as if they feared a stray arrow aiming for them.

Only two guards remained in the box and Geta found the urge to dismiss them. They had been rendered useless. They hadn't helped stop the gladiator from causing this or stopping the arrow from hitting the Empress. They couldn't do much help now.

Another wave of tears poured down (Y/n)'s face and she tried to lean her cheek into Geta's palm, but she couldn't focus on anything but the pain. Her vision was starting to blurr before her and she could scarcely make out the golden hues of Geta's hair and robes. He was starting to look like a mirage in before her.

Geta scanned his eyes around the box, looking in vain to find something useful but he wasn't even sure what he was searching for.

How could he help her? What could he do? What was here that he could use to his advantage to make this better until the healer arrived?

There was a cloth resting on the table beneath a bowl of dried fruits and a pitcher of wine. With one swift pull, Geta tore the cloth from beneath the bowls and pushed up higher so he was level with the wound that was making him sick to his stomach.

"Okay, sweetheart I need to stop the bleeding."

(Y/n) seemed to both understand and confuse what Geta was saying at the same time. For when he scrunched up the cloth and pressed it down around the arrow, her mind seemed to short-circuit. Her body writhed as much as she could with her upper half pinned to the chair and her body turning on fire with each passing second.

A dribble of blood trickled past her lips when Geta pressed down hard on the wound and something feeble and croaky whined at the back of her throat. Both her hands moved to grip Geta's wrist and she tried in vain to push him back, to get him to relent because the feeling was agony. The pressure was too much, it felt like he was forcing the arrow further into the wound.

She didn't care if she bled out, she just needed everything to stop.

Her nails scratched into his wrist and she tried to push forward until the searing pain caused a white noise to blister in her ears.

"Shh, shh I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to." The last thing Geta wanted was to hurt her, but he couldn't just sit here and let her bleed out.

He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he moved his right hand to press down on (Y/n)'s good shoulder while his other hand tried to keep the cloth pressed around the arrow that was making him feel infuriated with each passing second.

The cloth was turning red. The same shade as the silk woven into his robes. What was once crystal white was now splotched red and soon the entire cloth would be one big mess or crimson. It was a sight that churned Geta's stomach.

The harder he pressed, the more blood he could feel coating his fingers and becoming stuck beneath his nails like tar. And the more blood that coated his hand, the worse Geta began to feel.

He was going to lose her.

He was going to lose the most important person in his life simply because he didn't know what to do and someone had decided to hurt her. She didn't deserve this. That arrow should have been impaled into Geta, not her. Not his Empress.

When the word "Hurts," spluttered past (Y/n)'s lips, a choked sound emmitted from Geta in response. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing beneath his skin as he moved his hand back up to cradle the side of her face now that she wasn't thrashing or moving in her chair.

Instead, (Y/n)'s right hand was shakily clasped around Geta's wrist and her other hand was now gripping his other elbow. Her feet were scraping into the stone floor to try and steady herself while her back merged up against the back of the chair. Her chin tilted down as blood and saliva froffed past her lips and tears drenched her face.

Each breath she took made a horrible gasping, wheezing sound and her chest rose and fell so shallow Geta barely noticed the movements.

"Where's the healer?!" His voice raged out as his head snapped to look behind the chair his wife was now pinned against so he could see the two useless guards.

Why wasn't a healer here already? Why wasn't his wife already being seen to? What were they even doing?

"Emperor we- we don't have those kind of healers here in the colosseum."

The only healers they had at the colosseum were the basic ones. It wasn't in their interests to try and save every gladiator that got mortally wounded here in the colosseum. They patched up those who were fit to fight another day and they sent those who weren't down to the cells to live out their last hours.

The kind of healer the Emperor needed was one that would usually be on standby at the palace for the Royals or those who had enough money to pay for that kind of healing. Healers like that didn't wait around the colosseum, no one here had the means to pay for them.

"Then get one!"

They needed to speed up. They needed to get that healer now or heads were going to roll down the steps of the palace if the Empress wasn't saved. Geta would burn down all of Rome if his wife wasn't healed in time. Either they saved her or many of Rome would lose their lives.

When (Y/n)'s hand tightened around Geta's wrist, he looked back up at her with furrowed brows. He was met with frightened, watering eyes that made his stomach clench and had his chest tightening and wavering.

A bubbling cry left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to tilt her head forward more towards Geta. Her fingers were leaving bruises on his wrist, but he didn't relent from the pressure he was applying to her wound. He couldn't. He wouldn't let her bleed out here and now. Not like this.

Pushing forward, he moved his hand round to cup the back of her neck and he attached his lips to her temple as he tried to think. He hushed each breath against her flushed temple, trying in vain to calm her down just a little while a thought came to his mind.

He tightened his hand around the back of (Y/n)'s neck and gently inched her head forward until her temple was pressing into his shoulder. It allowed him to look over her back and see the back of the wound. Blood was already soaked into the back of her dress and leaving a trail down her waist.

He couldn't let her bleed out in this chair.

He finally released the pressure from her wound so he could hold his hand out at his side and click his fingers towards one of the guards.

"Knife, now."

When one of them handed him the thin knife that had been resting by the fruit bowl, Geta moved it down towards the arrow.

He heard (Y/n) mutter his name in confusion, each strangled breath fanning against his shoulder so he could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her lips were burrowed against his shoulder, dampening down her cries as she was too distressed and dazed to try and lift her head to find out what her husband was trying to do.

A howl left (Y/n)'s lips and her body began to tremble and writhe when she felt the arrow move. It was only a small jolt up and down but it was enough to set fire to her nerves that felt like they were shrivelling up into nothing.

But she was surprised when she flopped against Geta and felt no resistance. Her body wasn't being pinned back anymore. When she leant forward, her body followed her head and she fell into Geta's chest with a thud and her left arm weakly curved around the back of his neck. While her other arm stayed pinned between their chests, too agonised to lift the limb very far.

Geta cut the end of the arrow. He couldn't care less about the arrowhead that was still imbedded in the chair. He just had to free his wife so he could remove her from here and find a healer.

He had to move her now.

"Find me that healer." His words were dangerous and one guard automatically bolted to try and source out any kind of healer. One had been sent for, but there was no telling where said healer was or how long it would take for them to get here.

Geta's attention moved back down to (Y/n) as he cocooned his left arm around her waist and his right arm pinned over the back of her thighs. He slid her off the chair until she was leant into his chest and slumped over his lap, allowing him to pick her up bridal style.

He had done this a few times, but never like this. Never when his wife was on the brink of death.

Her face burrowed into his shoulder, but she could still see the arrow sticking out of the cloth that had been wrapped around the wound to try and stem the bleeding. She could see the shaved feathers on the end of the wood to help it soar through the air like a message from the Gods.

Had she done something to offend them? Was this some kind of punishment? Was (Y/n) truly going to die from this affliction?

If that were so, then (Y/n) wanted to stay in Geta's arms. She wanted to stay in his embrace if she was dying. She wanted to die with him as close as possible, guiding her into the next life.

That thought had tears trickling down her features and soaking into Geta's robes and the moment he felt her tears, his brows furrowed and he glanced down at her. She didn't need to be crying. She shouldn't be afraid, he was going to get her help. He was going to make sure that she was okay. He had to.

He did his best not to move (Y/n) too much as he stormed out into the corridor and followed the guards urging him their way. Hopefully they had a healer nearby or some destination in mind that would help.

It was hard to control himself, to not start screaming in torture and to stop from digging his hands into (Y/n)'s flesh and leaving marks and bruises in his wake. He didn't want to hurt her. That was the last thing on his mind, but he felt like if he didn't hold her tight enough, then she might slip away from him forever.

When he turned a sharp corner, he let his gaze fall down to his wife when he realised she wasn't crying or sniffling into his shoulder anymore.

"Hey, hey you keep those eyes on me. You hear me?" There was something authoritiative in his voice that sent shivers coursing through what was left of (Y/n)'s nerves. It made her do her best to blink and try to look up at him, but it was hard.

Her left arm that was loosely draped around the back of his neck twitched and her fingers tried to move and brush against the back of his neck.

Geta began to shake his head from left to right when he realised where the guards were taking him.

They were guiding him out of the colosseum. There was no healer nearby. They would be trying to usher him back to the palace. If that was their plan they'd better move at lightning speed because Geta was willing to kill everyone who failed to help save his wife, no matter how little their roles were in this trifling day.

"(Y/n)!" He seethed through gritted teeth the moment he stepped out the doors and was faced with a carriage waiting to take them back to the palace which was thankfully nearby. "Sweetheart, please, please stay awake."

Tears glistened in his eyes and he almost screamed when one of the guards tried to help him. He didn't want help carrying his wife, he wanted help finding a healer and arranging help.

He eased down into the carriage with (Y/n) laid across his lap, her cheek still resting on his shoulder and his arms encased around her body to hold her close. He didn't want to let her go. Not for a moment.

"Hold on for me, hm? I love you." His words were hushed against her temple as he began swaying them both from left to right.

And he tried to make sure she was stable with his left am propping her up against him so that his right hand could try and apply pressure to the wound once again. He hated the little mewl that it caused her to emmit but at least the pain was keeping her somewhat conscious and alert with him. His lips attached to her burning temple and he tried to close his eyes.

But all Geta saw when he closed his eyes was the vision of blood. He could see the blood painting her golden dress that she only wore to match him and show her support of her Emperors and of Rome. The beautiful golden thread and silk were tainted with so much blood that it looked positively black.

As insisted and expected, it didn't take long to get back to the palace which was only a short trip away. Any longer and (Y/n) might not have made the journey back.

The moment the coach pulled up and the door opened, Geta clambered down with his wife still tucked up in his arms.

The words "I love you," were whispered against the top of her head over and over as at least six guards surrounded him to provide assistance and guidance as they stormed into the palace.

It surprised Geta to find Caracalla and General Acacius already here in the palace, but then again, they had been ushered out first. And they looked so fragile and out of breath that they couldn't have been here very long. A few minutes at most.

"This way, Emperor."

Geta's steely eyes tore away from them both and he looked ahead to where the guards were guiding him.

Each step felt like a step closer to Hell. He felt like he was guiding his wife personally to her demise. All he wanted to do was save her but Geta wasn't so sure anymore that it was possible.

Tears streamed down his face, slithering and melting into the make up that was starting to fade and run down towards his neck. Allowing streaks of bright pink and red to light up his features like scratches where the blood was rising to the surface.

He followed the guards down another corridor, sure that he could hear his twin somewhere close behind them. Geta's sandals echoed and stomped against the marble floor that was littered with droplets of blood like breadcrumbs to find their way back to the carriage.

But just as he neared the room all the guards seemed to be surrounding, Geta's steps faltered and his eyes snapped down to look at his wife.

Her cheek was still pressed against his shoulder, but her eyes had rolled to the back of her head.

And he couldn't feel her breaths on his skin anymore.

His rabid eyes scanned across her face and chest a million times, but she wasn't breathing. He was sure of it.

"No, no don't do this to me!"

A rendition of "You can't do this!" And "You're not allowed to leave me!" Roared past Geta's lips as he stormed towards the room that felt like his last beacon of hope. His last glimpse at salvation before he lost himself into oblivion.

His body was shaking, seething with anger, betrayal, panic and absolute desperation as he barrelled into the drawing room and collapsed down on his knees on the floor. He laid (Y/n) over his lap, refusing to move his arms from around her. He couldn't let them take her in case he never got her back again.

"She isn't breathing- do something!"

Everyone in the room flinched at his tone and his barbaric expression which told them that if the Empress didn't live, then none of them were going to leave this room. Their only chance at salvation was to save (Y/n).

Guards posted either side of the door which slammed closed right after Caracalla and General Acacius hurried inside.

Two healers were stood at the far table, concoctions and remedies laid out before them that they were trying to perfect with trembling hands. And Caracalla moved so he was stood close enough to his twin that his presence was felt, but not close enough to reach out. He didn't know what to do. One arm bound around his waist and the other pinned his hand against his mouth so he could bite down on his thumb anxiously.

A third healer knelt down in front of Geta who he looked to for permission before he dared to reach out and touch the Empress.

He seemed to agree that she wasn't breathing- as if Geta was stupid enough to mistake something like that.

There was no time for Geta to question or ask what was on the rag that the healer was now pressing over (Y/n)'s mouth and nose. Or the tonic he dripped into her mouth and the salts he wafted beneath her nose. The utter concoction seemed to do the trick in shocking (Y/n)'s system as a strangled, desperate breath caused her chest to inflate and her head pressed back against Geta's shoulder suddenly.

With his hand cradling the side of her face, Geta held (Y/n) close and attached his lips desperately to the top of her head. He pressed kiss after kiss against her temple and hairline and did his best not to start rocking back and forth as that would disrupt the healer before him.

Tears streamed down his features as he tried his best to control his own breathing and settle his system. But (Y/n) was frightening him. He had never been this frightened of anyone dying before. He had been saddened when his mother passed, joyful when his father died and slightly inconvenienced when any servants passed who he was close to.

But Geta knew if he lost his twin or his wife, then his world would end too. He would burn down all of Rome and then kill himself if he lost them.

"On the sofa, if you will, sire."

Geta didn't need to be told twice. He slipped his arms back around (Y/n)'s frame properly and eased her up from his lap so she was properly in his arms once again. His lips glued against her temple and he moved to lay her down on the sofa in the corner of the room.

Once she was laid out, he moved to sit behind her and laid her head on his lap wit his hand brushing up and down her arm to try and keep her soothed and calm.

He hated each whimper and mewl that she let out when the healer touched the arrow and tried to assess the damage to know how to treat her.

"The opium; a lot of it." The healer waved his hand at one of his fellow colleagues behind him but he didn't like the look he was faced with when he glanced up at the Emperor.

"Is that wise?" Geta didn't want to contradict a healer, he truly didn't because this wasn't his forte. He wasn't sure how this could be treated or how they were going to save his wife. But he knew what opium would do. Geta knew it would render his wife unconscious in a deep sleep that would be hard to wake her from.

That wasn't the problem. The issue was that she had just stopped breathing. Giving her opium might induce that breathless state again, Geta didn't want her to be sedated and then needing to be woken up by strong substances again or by lethal forces if she stopped breathing.

"I have to remove the arrow, Emperor. The opium is necessary, I fear the pain would kill her." He hated to be so blunt, but if they didn't sedate her and she stayed conscious, the pain might be too much for (Y/n)'s heart to take.

She was already close to death as it was. Another burst of pain, another bout of bloodloss and she could die and they would have a hard time bringing her back round again.

Geta silently nodded his head and moved his hands down to rub up and down (Y/n)'s arms. He felt the way she writhed on his lap and he leaned over her so he could press his lips to her forehead.

He was sure she tried to murmur his name and he hummed against her temple, trying to keep her calm while the healer got a vile of opium ready.

"Take this, sweetheart, and you'll feel better. I'm not leaving you, I promise. I won't go anywhere."

Geta knew she hated being alone, much less being alone and in agony like this. But he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving her for one single moment until he knew that she was out of harms way and the Gods weren't going to try and claim her.

He would pray. If that's what the Gods demanded, Geta would pray right here and now. He would take pilgrimage down to the temples and pray to each and every God in Rome if they would spare his wife. Once she was better, he would pray and leave gifts and sacrifices at their temples if they would do him the honour of sparing his life and letting him life without a broken heart. He couldn't lose her.

She was Geta's heart and soul and if anything happened to her, then all of Rome would suffer under his merciless wrath.

His thumb glided across (Y/n)'s cheek while the healer held a vile of opium to her lips. Geta coaxed her to take the drug while his lips stayed against her temple and his thumb moved to brush along her lower lip that was smeared with blood as she coughed once the drug was in her system.

It didn't take long for her body to go lax and still against him and the sight was horrifying because there was on guarantee that she would wake up.

Geta didn't even know what her last words had been to him. Had it been his name? Had it been a cry of agony? Had it been her telling him how much torturous pain she was in?

The thought had him in tears once again and he brushed his arm beneath his eyes and across his face. Smearing make up across his face until streaks of white, red and black smudges were painted across his face.

Another healer came to hover by for added assistance and watched with a little too much eagerness for Geta's liking.

Geta rolled his lips together and braced himself when he watched the healer checking the arrow. He seemed to make sure the cut at the back of the arrow was clean and it was a clear cut through (Y/n)'s skin. He checked for any bone damage, none of which could be found.

He then braced one hand on (Y/n)'s right shoulder and the other gripped the end of the wooden arrow that had caused so much anguish in Rome today.

Geta couldn't help the way he grimaced and coughed in despair when the arrow was yanked free from his wife's skin with one swift tug. The healer examined the stick of wood which thankfully hadn't broken or splintered, making their work much easier. But when he went to discard it, Geta surged across and took it.

He set the arrow down behind him on the small table. Geta needed that. When the gladiator was caught who had caused this disgrace, Geta would be using that arrow on him. He would show him where it could be impaled to cause the maximum amount of pain. He would make the gladiator see his Empress's blood and see why his death would be so very painful and enduring.

"If you could, Emperor."

Those words brought Geta out of his thoughts and he frowned, unsure what he was being asked until he looked down at the healer's hands.

He nodded and helped to turn (Y/n) onto her left side so her cheek was pressing into his thigh. One hand stayed on her chest and the other held her lower back to keep her in place, allowing the healer a clear view of both sides of the wound that was now pouring blood down her dress.

A grunt of disproval left Geta's lips when the healer slid the strap of (Y/n)'s dress from her shoulder to expose the wound properly. He restrained himself from digging his fingers into her flesh again and from pushing the healer away from his wife. He didn't want anyone touching her, but he didn't seem to have a choice.

Geta was rather relieved she had been given the opium now. As much as it made him fear her eyes never opening again and her breaths ceasing to exist, they were right. It was better for her this way. Tearing the arrow from her skin would have sent her into shock.

And now, with the healer slowly stitching up the small circular wounds on her back and chest, it would have driven (Y/n) into maddening agony if she had been awake or somewhat lucid for this.

The skin was already starting to swell once the thread was binding her skin together which had gone tight like a canvas being pulled too tight over a wooden frame.

"This paste should prevent infection and quicken the healing." The thick herbal paste the healer lathered on both wounds looked sickly and gut wrenching, but Geta didn't care as long as it worked.

He watched with growing distaste as the paste was lathered onto (Y/n)'s bruised skin and a roll of bandage was carefully applied to her skin. Two thick bandages were wound over and under her armpit and across her collar bone to cover the expanse of the wound and it looked rather tight, but Geta supposed that was the point.

"When she wakes we will give her some tonic, and she shouldn't move her arm too much until the wound heals."

"You'll stay to observe her." It was more of an order than a request, but there was a sense of vulnerability in Geta's voice that caused the healer to smile softly. His Emperor looked fragile rather than frightening when he spoke just now.

"Of course, sir." None of the healers would be going anywhere until the Empress was out of danger. They would be here for the next few days, they suspected.

Geta wanted them nearby just in case anything were to go wrong or (Y/n) took a sudden turn. But he would be the one applying the paste to her wounds and changing her bandages when she needed them. He wasn't going to be leaving her sights, he would be the one caring for her. None of the maids or servants were going to get close to the Empress for the next few weeks.

The healer retreated to the corner table, busying himself with preparing some tonics and more paste for when the Empress would stir.

General Acacius took a step closer to the Emperor, his hands bound in front of him and a sense of panic on his face when he looked at Geta. The Emperor looked like he was starting to shake. He had one hand carding through his wife's hair, but his other hand was clenched into a fist which was pressed against his mouth as if to stop himself from screaming.

And when Geta's head snapped towards the general, a fiery vengeance could be seen burning within his darkened pupils.

"Find the one who did this! I want to string up the barbaric hound myself for what he's done to her!"

He wanted the gladiator responsible brought to the palace so Geta could deal with him personally. He would bleed him dry and quarter him and burn him and throw him to the dogs. Geta would do anything and everything he possibly could to inflict the worst pain onto the barbarian who thought he could get away with trying to murder the Empress.

He wasn't going to get away with this.

[hiraizyo]

running in circles, now look what you’ve done.

synopsis — tension grows between you and daniela as you’re faced with newfound feelings.

friends with benefits, suggestive, fluff, angst, swearing, jealous!reader, lesserafim 6th member!reader

now playing: friends, chase atlantic.

a/n: continuation of this. reader & dani need to get their shit together, reader is also kinda an asshole :/ she’s really trying tho !!! this is like lowk sad-ish WHOOPS. the previous imagine focused mainly on dani, so this one will showcase reader’s feelings :)

++ in honor of reaching 111 followers i wrote this longer than i planned for <3

the week flies by, and before you know it, you’re in LA for a couple days, busying yourself with scheduled photoshoots. you’re jet lagged by the time you’ve landed, wanting to only crawl into bed and sleep for hours. the friday comes and goes, and you’re exhausted by the end of it from the rigorous routine of changing into different outfits and fittings, having your makeup retouched constantly.

currently, you were sitting at the dinner table of your apartment here in LA, impulsively buying it after hearing the complaints of yunjin about staying in hotels every time lesserafim came to the states. your hair was damp from the shower you’d had half an hour ago, and you were nursing a warm cup of tea.

the sound of the face time ringing echoed around the room, leaning back against the chair as you waited for daniela to pick up.

the chiming notes alerted you that your face time was answered, and you smiled immediately seeing the curly haired girl come into frame.

“hey.” you said quietly, but your voice was filled with clear enthusiasm.

daniela shuffled around, her room door closing in the background. “shit, sorry. lara wouldn’t leave me alone.” she leaned back against the headboard, balancing her phone on her knees. “what’s up?”

at the mention of her member, you felt your chest tighten. it wasn’t a secret that all katseye girls were close, and while you were mostly fine with it, something about daniela and lara’s friendship irked you.

you shrugged the feeling off, focusing on the latina in front of you through the screen. “nothing, really. the shoots went well, and i got here about an hour ago.”

daniela nodded, listening intently. “were the outfits any good?”

you grinned, humming loudly. “yep, i think you’ll like them a lot when they’re posted. but fair warning, i looked really hot, so try not to fall in love with me or anything.”

the blonde rolled her eyes in a light hearted manner, “oh please. never in a million years.”

you chuckled, loving the teasing game between you and her. it was times like this when you really enjoyed your friendship, being able to match one another’s energy despite your agreement.

“ouch,” you dramatically placed a hand over your heart, clutching at your chest. “you wound me, dani.”

daniela giggled noisily, smiling so wide that her dimples showed. “i’m excited to see you tomorrow.”

you swallowed down some of your tea, the taste nice and sweet. adjusting yourself in the dining room chair, you propped up your leg to lean your head against it. “me too.”

without realizing it, daniela’s hand reached to play with your necklace around her neck. the action caused you to follow her movements, stomach fluttering.

“so, are you going to tell me about this surprise or what?” she attempted to get it out of you, like she’d been doing for the past week.

“ah uh,” you tutted and cheekily wagged a finger at her. “that’s not how surprises work.”

“pleaseee.” she begged, whining as she threw her head back. daniela looked at you a moment later, trying her best to coax you with her eyes.

“you know your charms don’t work on me like that.” you clicked your tongue, the tug of you slips never leaving.

daniela squinted at you, her voice dropping an octave. “they worked enough to get you into bed with me.”

your reaction was comical, looking gobsmacked at her, mouth hanging open. a second later, a sheepish laughed escaped you as you ducked your head down, trying to hide your blush.

“now we’re shy all of a sudden?” she added on, her teasing grin still in place.

“shut up!” you hollered at her. your body felt warm, and you were sure your cheeks were redder than ever by now.

“i think it’s cute.” daniela told you, beaming at you. her eyes crinkled at the sides as happiness ran through her like electricity.

when you finally recomposed yourself, and daniela decided you’d had enough of her teasing, the conversation flowed easily between you two, going from the different work schedules to shows you were recently into.

time seemed to pass by quickly, and it wasn’t long before telling daniela was telling you her goodbyes after seeing you let out yawn for the second time.

after hanging up and bidding her a goodnight, the remnants of the call lingered with you. though you were tired a second ago, your mind was filled with the thoughts of daniela. a warmth spread from your heart, and you could tell you were carefully threading on the line of thinking her as more than a friend.

the realization scared you, knowing that what was going on between you and her was strictly fun and games.

you were never good with feelings, it was why most of your relationships had ended up in flames, the only exception being kazuha. romantic entanglements always left you feeling empty — whether that was because of the way you saw yourself, pushing others away for self preservation, or the way you’s seen love around you crash and burn, you weren’t sure.

so, with a heavy sigh, you buried it deep inside, deciding to deal with it another day.

you were rarely an angry person, you prided yourself on that. but now, staring at daniela’s instagram story of her and lara, the dark feeling coursed through your veins.

it was a simple photo, one that wouldn’t bother any other person. but what had you clamping your teeth together was the hand placement of lara. her fingers wrapped around daniela’s waist lowly, hugging her close against her body as they stood side by side.

you scoffed, trying to get the image out of your head. daniela would be at your apartment soon, you’d texted her the address earlier in the day, and you didn’t want to ruin your little surprise with your sour mood.

twenty minutes passed by — daniela was late. you usually didn’t fret much on people being on time, especially if it was for a casual hangout, but knowing who the girl was with at the moment blurred your rational thinking.

when she finally reached your place, the door was quickly being closed behind her and she barely had a chance to register her surroundings before you were pressing her against the door, lips attaching to hers.

daniela gasped, startled by your sudden movements. her body melted into yours, fingers digging into the waistband of your pants. your hands fell to her hips, gripping them harshly in the same place lara’s hands were, squeezing the flesh delicately, as if staking your claim. your tongue dipped out to run along her bottom lip, asking for entrance. daniela denied you, leaning her head away as you chased after her.

her hands left your waistband and she placed them on your chest, “someone’s eager.” she chuckled, her lipstick now a mess.

“just missed you,” mumbling hazily, you breathed out in heavy pants. “and i had a really long day yesterday.”

daniela smirked and leaned up until we lips were touching the shell of your ear, whispering lowly. “planning to fuck your frustrations out on me?” she was teasing you, drawing out a deep rumble from you.

one of your hands released the grip on her hip, cupping her jaw as you moved her back to face you and closing the tiny gap between you two.

“you talk too much.”

whatever daniela wanted to say next was swallowed down as you pressed a harsh kiss to her lips once again. you tasted hints of caramel on them, feeling like you addicted and she was your fix.

your body pressed further into hers until your hips rocked together, and your hand made its way into her hair, wrapping your fingers around her curls. daniela’s hands on your chest trailed over until they were gripping your bicep, digging her nails into them. she sighed heavenly, kissing you back with just as much force.

when the need for air was too much, you both parted, breathing heavily. your mind was still reeling from the jealousy you felt, so you hung you head low as your forehead was placed on the junction between daniela’s neck and shoulder.

her body slumped against the door, skin tingling as your hands snuck under her shirt, holding onto her torso.

you were breathing together now, as if you were one person. chest to chest, daniela’s heart beat rapidly against her rib cage. she couldn’t tell that your eyes were closed, trying to recollect yourself, and when you pulled away from, the silver chain of your necklace caught your attention.

at the sight of it, your mind cleared. the jealousy faded away and all that was left was a warm glow in your chest.

your fingers delicately took hold of the necklace, smiling gently. “you’re wearing it.”

daniela gazed at you, pupils dilating. “of course.” she said quietly, “it feels like i have a part of you with me.”

your breath hitched at her words, stuttering for a moment. her hand reached for yours, the necklace dropping around her neck as your fingers locked together.

“tell me about the surprise now.” daniela peered at you, pouting lightly.

you chuckled, finally stepping away from her and pulled her along with you, your hands never letting go of one another.

gesturing around you with your free hand, your lips tugging into a smile seeing the fully furnished place. it was an open floor plan, big enough to have two couches in place, a coffee table, an entertainment system with a flat screen tv, and a dining room on the other end of the room.

daniela looked around, taking in the place though her confusion was visible. you quietly snickered to yourself, running your thumb along the back of her hand.

“i bought it a while ago so that whenever the girls and i come to the states we have a place to crash.” you briefly explained, a gentle smile gracing your features as you observed daniela’s reaction.

“i wanted you to be the first to see it.”

in an instant, her stare shot from looking at the decor to yours. her grip tightened, squeezing your hand for a short second.

and there it was, the stars in her eyes.

hanging in air was the unspoken feelings between you and daniela. the atmosphere around you was soft and intimate, falling deeper into one another.

“yn…” she laughed breathlessly, “this place is amazing.”

you shrugged, keeping your gaze on her as she looked around for a second time. “i figured a hotel would be too risky, especially with paparazzi, so i thought we could spend the night here.”

daniela looked at you again, her grin widening. she used your intertwined hands to pull you closer until your body crashed into hers. she kissed you gently, with such passion and intimacy it made your head spin.

you stopped the kiss for a brief moment, tugging her into the direction of the hallway, a dark glint in yours eyes.

“come on,” you faced her, walking backwards. “the rest of the surprise is in the bedroom.”

daniela giggled, kissing you once again. you laughed together as you made your way to the bedroom in a flurry of kisses, yanking on one another’s clothes and almost tripping over your own feet in your rushed movements.

soft music echoed around the apartment, you and daniela sitting together on couch cushions by the coffee table. takeout boxes were littered on the glass surface, the food half eaten.

there’s a certain comforting feeling surrounding the both of you. daniela was wearing one of your oversized shirts, the sleeve reaching her elbow.

you sighed contentedly, wiping your hands on a napkin and tossing it into the table. “i forgot how hungry sex makes you.”

daniela chortled, “what a romantic thing to say.”

“i try.” you shrugged lightly, grinning like a cat.

she shoved your arm softly, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. you broke into a fit of giggles at her faux angry look. her eyebrows were scrunched together cutely, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

you softly nudged on her frown lines, earning a swat on your hand from the latina. she tried to seem annoyed, but the smile you had caused for her own to form.

the two of you settle in a pleasant silence, enjoying one another’s presence. you felt content, thinking you could get used to nights like this with daniela.

“can i ask you something?” her voice breaks the peacefulness. you hummed, leaning your back against the couch and looked at her, tilting your head towards her.

daniela paused, contemplating if she really wanted to ask this. it’d been on her mind for weeks now, ever since the conversation with megan, and the curiosity was killing her. her fingers were wringing together in nervous. she spoke so softly, you had to strain your ear in order to hear her.

“why didn’t you tell me about kazuha?”

the question hangs in the air. you hadn’t expected her to ask this, you weren’t even aware she knew about your and your group member.

“mmh?” your eyebrows creased together, now facing daneila.

“you and kazuha.” she repeated, voice firm. “why didn’t you mention it?”

the latina watched you carefully as you sighed and sat up, staring in front of you. the sudden shift in the room weighed on her, and she feared she had said something wrong. she opened her mouth to tell you never mind, to forget she even asked, but your voice stopped her.

“i didn’t say anything because i didn’t think it was important.” you shrugged carelessly, longingly looking ahead of you. “kazuha and i were together around the time of our debut. she and i were getting closer, and it just sorta… happened.”

you swallowed down a lump that formed at the memories briefly playing in your head. “but it’s over. it was over long before you and i started this.”

in a flash, the memories left your mind. your chest felt heavy, but the lingering scent of daniela’s perfume brought you back. you reminded yourself that kazuha was in the past, and you were better off as friends in any case.

daniela couldn’t stop herself from staring at you, your body language now closed off. it was clear that her question had changed the mood.

“okay.” she mumbled, hushed and quiet.

as you struggled between your past and present, you wet your bottom lip, suddenly becoming aware that you had never spoken about kazuha before, so how did daniela hear about it?

you looked her at in suspicion, “how did you know about that, anyways?”

“does it matter how i know?” daniela retorted quickly, eyebrow raised in defense.

“yes.” you stated, your voice indicating that you were beginning to feel annoyed. “because the only people who’re aware about kazuha and i are my members, and if you knew then you must be talking to one of them, or something.”

“i’m not talking to any of your members, yn.” daniela denied, feeling as if your accusing tone was uncalled for.

“good.” finally turning to look into her eyes, you gave her a pointed gaze. “we agreed to keep this a secret, remember?”

“how can i not remember? you never let me forget it.” she countered bitterly, folding her arms on her lap tightly.

the gravity of the situation took a turn, you could sense it. what was once calm waters was now turning into a high tide. the feelings you and daniela kept hidden beneath the surface came bubbling out in the worst way possible.

daniela was getting defensive and rightfully so, while you had displeasure overpowering your emotions, acting irrationally, spewing out words without giving it an ounce of thought.

“dani, our members can’t know.” you stressed, sitting up to face her fully. “they’ll just try and get involved, ask all sorts of questions, worry about us.”

the blonde squinted at you in disbelief, waving her hand around. “obviously they’ll worry, they’re our friends.”

“it doesn’t matter!” you screeched out, face contorting into one of anger. “it’s better for the both of us to be a secret.”

you got up from your position on the floor, setting the couch cushion back in its place on the furniture. daniela followed your movements, standing across from you, and even though you were right in front of her, it suddenly felt as if you were miles apart.

“right, a secret.” daniela scoffed, looking off to the side. her arms were rigid at her side, clicking her tongue over her teeth.

“or are you just worried how a certain member will react if she finds out?” she questioned, using the same accusing tone you had on her.

you brushed your fingers through your hair, messing it up even more. all you could do was stare at her, jaw clenched at this unbelievable impression she had of you and kazuha.

you blinked, gaze now glaring at her. “don’t do that..” you sighed, shaking your head.

“do what?” she asked, titling her head mockingly.

“say things like that and expect me to read between the lines!” you yelled out, the anger you felt now being put out in the open.

it was alarming how quickly daniela’s demeanor changed. in a split second, her look of wrath and jealousy turned into a blank expression. she swallowed, her throat bobbing up and down. the latina looked around the room, her body feeling exhausted from her rise in temper.

“i think i should go.” she announced, gesturing to the door.

“fine.” you waved, shutting yourself away from her. your voice was cold, “go.”

daniela huffed, not sparing you a second glance as she hurriedly collected her things. when she exited the bedroom, coming out from the hallway fully dressed, you were still standing the place she left you.

a part of her wanted you to stop her, tell her to stay, tell her that everything would be alright. but her desires weren’t met as you stood rooted in your spot. her heart clenched, wondering if this was the end.

with final look, she took her leave.

the door shutting behind her had you gasping for air, the little argument taking its toll on you. you screwed your eyes shut, your mind spiraling with thoughts.

what the fuck just happened? you asked yourself, the takeout on the coffee table reminding of how quickly the night took a turn.

falling back onto the couch and slumping into the softness of it, your hand reached to rub the back of your neck. guilt consumed you, regret taking its hold over you. your hands trembled, stuffing your face into them as you replayed the quarrel in your head.

daniela was long gone from the apartment building, and your heart was taken with her.

it wasn’t the end, at least not yet.

you and daniela didn’t talk for days, the last conversation being the one in your apartment. even when you’d left to go back to south korea, you contemplated texting her, but ultimately decided against it.

you were both feeling the aftermath of everything, coping in your own ways. and how that worked for you, was to binge watch your favorite comfort show. your members joined here and there, they could tell something was up with you but they didn’t ask any questions, knowing that you needed the space and you would talk when you were ready.

it didn’t stop them from speculating, though. yunjin had a feeling that it was to do with daniela, hearing from megan and sophia that the latina wasn’t doing well either. she voiced her concerns to the members, and it was kazuha who promised she’d talk to you when the time was right.

as you got up from your bed to get a drink from the fridge, your phone began to ring. slugging yourself towards it, daniela’s name was clear and bright on your screen.

your heart quickened and your throat felt constricted. why was she calling? what did she have to say to you? when you answered the call, the last thing you expected was for her to be sounding angry, again.

“what fucking shit are you trying to pull?”

you frowned, sitting down on at the foot of the bed. feeling ticked off at her, you matched her fiery tone. “i’m sorry? you don’t talk to me for days and now you’re calling, yelling at me?”

on the other end, daniela rolled her eyes. the rest of the kats were all pilled into the lounge, planning for a movie marathon to cheer up their friend. they could hear her yells from the other room, glancing around at one another in concern.

“shut it,” she barked out. daniela’s hand was on her hip, visibly enraged. “what’s with the gift, huh?”

confusion was etched onto your face. “what are you talking about?”

daniela grumbled, “the gift, yn.” she hollered out, staring at a black box that sat on the kitchen island. the lid of the box lay next to it, while a silver bracelet delicately resting inside. “why is there a gift at the house with my name on it?”

hearing this, you slumped your shoulders and pressed a hand to your forehead. “shit.” you mumbled, the matching bracelet of your necklace slipped your mind once you came back home.

“i ordered it last week while i was in cali. it would take a couple days to get to you, but i forgot about it, dani.” you offered an explanation for the situation. “it was meant to be a surprise.”

daniela’s anger faded. she looked at the silver bracelet and reached out to touch it, gently. her emotions were all over the place, feeling confusion and resentment, but she also couldn’t deny the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach at the gesture.

“what does it mean?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

you stilled, breath being caught in your throat. now would be your chance to tell everything you’d been feeling the past month and a half, but something was stopping you.

what if daniela didn’t feel the same way? what if everything thats been happening was nothing her? what if, when you finally showed all yourself, daniela wouldn’t like what she saw?

as if on instinct, you shut your eyes and did what you do best — shoving your feelings deep inside, locking it away.

“nothing.”

daniela dropped the bracelet back in its place inside the box. hurt washed over her, reality had finally set in. “are you being for real?”

“the gift means nothing, dani.” you told her, even if your heart was screaming at you. “i saw it and thought you’d like it. i don’t know what else you want me to say.”

daniela stood in the katseye dorm, her walls finally crashing down. you both knew that this wasn’t the kind of gift you’d get someone for it to mean nothing, especially when it involved a relationship like yours and daniela’s.

much like the last time you’d seen one another, daniela did her best to mask her feelings. if you could see her now, you’d notice the tears that welled in her eyes, threatening to fall. she took in a deep breath, her voice wavering.

“don’t talk to me again.” daniela uttered, her vision blurry. “ever.”

she hang up from the call, and the second she did a cry ripped from her chest. her stomach was churning, throat feeling blocked as she choked out a sob.

the katseye girls rushed into the space where she was, watching as daniela’s whole world crumbled around her. manon took her into her arms, and daniela knew then she’d finally have to let her members in on her secret arrangement with you.

she definitely wasn’t looking forward to that.

the end of the call left a ringing in your ears, you barely registered how your phone fell from you hands and dropped onto the floor, the thud reverberating around you.

your eyes were beginning to sting. unblinking, you felt your hands shake. everything was spilling out all at once.

a knock was heard at the door, and then kazuha came into the room, noticing your vacant look. you didn’t take any note of her, continuing to stare ahead of you.

she walked towards you, cautiously, slowly, and it was only once kazuha kneeled in front of you did she see the millions of emotions in your eyes.

“yn, are you okay?” her voice broke your daze.

you gasped, chest aching. “zuha…” you called, choking on your words. “i think i really fucked things up with daniela.”

“what do you mean?” kazuha frowned, her hand being placed on your thigh. the weight of the her hand made it feel as if you were being awakened from a dream.

wiping away a stray tear that fell, you wet your lips, finally revealing what had been going on behind the curtains. “dani and i — ahem — we were hooking up. for the past several months, she and i would meet each other secretly. and… i-i couldn’t stop it, zuha. i kept having all these the feelings. and- and i didn’t know what to do.”

kazuha’s eyes widened at your state, seeing the walls around you break down. you were gasping for breath, clutching at your chest. your stomach felt as if it was being twisted, like you would throw up at any moment.

the japanese struggled to find the words to comfort you, but she didn’t need to as you began to speak again.

your voice shook, blinking slowly. “i got her this gift, and i told her it meant nothing.”

kazuha got off her knees, sitting besides you. the bed dipped, “did it?” she questioned.

you shook your head faintly, “no.” your hands grasped at kazuha’s, desperately holding on to them. “i don’t know. fuck, i’ve probably ruined our entire friendship too.”

the dark haired girl pulled your hands onto her lap, forcing you to look at her. it was a sight to behold — seeing her usually stoic member breaking down, eyes red and body shaking.

“hey, listen to me.” she leaned her head down until you were looking into her eyes. “you hid your arrangement pretty well, y’know. but i’ve seen the way you talk about her, the way you look at her. i know how you get when you have feelings for someone.”

she smiled gently, cupping your cheek as she wiped away your tears. kazuha had a warmth about her that made it easy to fall into her touch.

“she told me to never talk to her again.” you mumbled, a few more tears seeped out.

“so what?” kauzha shrugged. her eyes were gentle, furrowing her eyebrows together as she cradled your face in her hands. “you can’t push her away just because you think you’re unloveable.”

this was a delicate situation, and your emotions were at its highest. she needed to tread with caution, but her blunt honesty was necessary to realize your mistakes.

“everything i touch breaks, zuha.” your voice cracked, pain evident in it. you whispered it to her, “even with you and me.”

kazuha muttered no’s under her breath, denying you the opportunity to blame yourself even for a second. “we only ended because we were better off as friends, you know that.”

she spoke with conviction, but the soft features of her face lightened her words. “i get the past hasn’t been kind to you, but you can’t let it ruin your relationships anymore.” kazuha looked deep your eyes as they shone with heartache. “i can tell you really, really like her.”

you nodded, heart pounding. “more than anything.”

kazuha smiled at the quick response, “then let her know.”

her words made your lips tremble, knowing that your relationship with daniela had already crumbled. “she’s not going to want to speak to me after that call. i mean, how do i— wh- what am i even supposed to say?”

the girl pulled you closer, speaking in a rushed manner. “everything. tell her how you feel, why you acted like that. why you were so scared. you have to let her in, yn.”

your eyes were darting around, trying to regain control of yourself. your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, breathing fitfully.

kazuha could tell you were close to a panic attack at all the emotions you were feeling. you’d been carrying this weight on your shoulders for so long, hiding your feelings for daniela since the very first night you stayed at her place.

she rested her forehead against yours, reminding you to breathe. your eyes squeezed shut, as you listened to her mutter sweet nothings, running a hand through your hair to calm you down.

when the worst of it had passed, your head rested in the crook of her neck, falling into her. your breathing had evened out, and your body ached with exhaustion of the emotional breakthrough.

you lips brushed against her skin, “thank you, zuha.” the girl smiled, patting your back until you eyes began to feel droopy.

PLEASE DONT HATE ME Y’ALL 💔 it gets worse before it gets better :/

i MIGHT publish a fluffy lara fic to heal from this lmao, but the next part yn & dani are happy again gang :)

[sometimes-dinosaurs-are-gay]

The ladies at my local knitting circles LOVE my phone. They don't know how it works but they love it. I have old lady rizz. You're jealous.

To all Star Trek fans: try fiber arts. The old ladies in your area likely love Star Trek more than you and a great way to meet them is though a crafting group.

To all fiber artists: I have got the perfect shows to watch while you work... Also don't start with Enterprise. Dear god start with any other show.

[chibinasuu2]

One of my favorite ZoSan lore has got to be how their rivalry actually only started in Little Garden.

It wasn't "hate-at-first-sight" for them – believe it or not, Zoro and Sanji were quite amicable when they first met!

Exhibit A: them chilling together at the party post-Arlong Park

Exhibit B: Zoro giving Sanji an "order" at Loguetown and he just said "Got it!!" without a single name-calling or complaint?? Unheard of nowadays.

They had some other civil conversations around that time as well – no bickering in sight!

[spoilers for Little Garden below the cut]

This. This page right here is where everything started.

Ever since that first "contest", they became the ever-bickering, always-head-to-head Zoro and Sanji that we all know and love.

Their rivalry has become such a staple in all of their interactions – a force of habit, a routine, the status quo – and it has been going on for sooo long that I doubt Zoro and Sanji themselves even remember what started it anymore...

Just like another pair of rivals we know (whose 100-year rivalry also started with an argument over who caught the bigger prey).

This obvious Zoro/Sanji–Dorry/Brogy parallel has always been so interesting to me, especially since Dorry and Brogy were very explicitly presented as equals.

Those two giants had had a whopping 73,466 battles by the time the Straw Hats reached Little Garden, and not a single instance had one ever won over the other.

They were equal in strength, and even prior to their feud, they were in equal positions as co-captains of the Giant Warrior Pirates.

This is exactly the dynamic that Oda assigned Zoro and Sanji, presenting them in equal positions as the Wings of the Future Pirate King (probably also why Oda never explicitly stated that Zoro is First Mate)

Zoro and Sanji are also clearly very strong in their own rights, each with their unique abilities and skillsets. I truly believe a full-power battle between them would end up exactly like Dorry and Brogy's: a never-ending duel between two equally matched fighters.

TL;DR – I don't care what powerscalers say, Zoro and Sanji are equals in every sense of the word, period.

[spoilers for Wano and end of Egghead below]

Also, now that Dorry and Brogy are back in the picture, I really hope that Oda would circle around to this rivalry parallel in Elbaf.

I think it would be interesting to see further development in Zoro and Sanji's dynamics that goes beyond "rivals-that-actually-really-care-for-each-other-but-their-egos-are-too-big-to-show-it".

The Death Pact in Wano gave us probably the deepest glimpse so far into the nature of their relationship, showing us, clear as day, the incredible bond between them and just how far their trust for each other goes.

I mean, Dorry and Brogy ended up reconciling at the end of Little Garden and became best buddies again after fighting for one hundred years, so who knows what Oda has planned for ZoSan? I, for one, am really excited to see what he has in store for them in the Final Saga.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Ice Cream (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: the shadow needs to be put on timeout.

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Word Count: 1821

Warnings: literally just fluff. azzie being a shy baby again🥹ALSO SHADOWS BEING MENACES BWAHAHAHAA💀 az is like an old asian parent tired of his kids bs 😭

A/n: ooof i love the shadows omg there such a pain in az's lil ass lmaoo. the one smartass shadow in the first part comes back to steal the spotlight and to make az's life miserable by its jabs lol🥹

ALSO THIS IS THE LAST PART IN THIS SERIES IM SO HAPPY OML I LOVED WRITING THIS 🥹😭

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

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Azriel had a routine. He always did.

Wake up, train, have something to eat, send reports to Rhys, analyse more reports, go onto missions if he had any, and train some more. It was always the same variation of the same few things.

But for a month now, his routine had a new addition. Having her on his mind every moment of every day.

His mind kept wandering to the colour of her eyes, the texture of her hair, the slight tilt to her lips when she found something he did funny. The way her quick wit and subtle hints of her boldness showed through her cold exterior as she slowly began to let her guard down around him, the way her eyes began to light up ever so lightly when she saw him as the two spent more and more time together.

She had become an important part of his routine, and he did not have a single problem with it, even as it put strain on him to finish up his work sooner so no one would suspect he was getting distracted from his duty.

Having her on his mind constantly, it was hard to focus on what his family was doing as they all sat in a booth at Rita’s, because he was too busy wondering what Y/n might be doing tonight. Maybe she was at her home, reading and sipping tea. Maybe she was out with her friends. Maybe she was by herself, wandering through the countless shops displaying items irresistible to anyone.

Maybe she was thinking of him.

The last thought had sudden heat travelling to Azriel’s cheeks, and he willed his shadows to cover him in case his family took notice of it as he lifted his almost empty cup of the alcoholic beverage Cassian had shoved into his hands to his lips.

Azriel looked up, glancing out of the window near the booth his family occupied, hoping that if Y/n really was out, she would walk by. It would certainly be a treat to his eyes and a soothing distraction from the overstimulation that was the inner circle.

"Az?"

He blinked, glancing over to Feyre, who stared at Az with furrowed brows. "Yes?"

She stared at him for a moment, a moment in which Azriel quickly looked over everyone present over the table. All their eyes were fixed on him, some confused, some curious. "We asked if you’re in for the game?"

Az straightened, setting his glass on the table and wrapped his arms around his chest. "Sure."

Cassian lifted a brow. "Do you even know what we’re playing?" Azriel’s cheeks flushed at the knowing look in his brother’s eyes, and he glanced down at his lap, clearing his throat and waiting for a shadow to fill him in on what was going on.

Master needs to learn to pay attention.

Azriel turned his head slightly to scowl at the particular shadow, and it bobbed away happily, as if unaware of his glare. But thankfully, another shadow floated up to his ear to whisper.

Truth or drink. They wish to probe and do your work.

The shadow that had initially hurried away from Azriel slithered back up his neck.

Be nosy, that is.

Azriel would have glared had he not had to turn back to his family. He nodded slightly, clearing his throat. "Truth or drink. I’m in."

Cassian leaned back, shooting a look that irked Azriel to Rhysand, who leaned forward on the table with a shit eating grin. "Let’s start with you then, brother. Who is keeping you so distracted and bothered all the time?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, releasing a breath through his nose, contemplating whether it was worth telling his family and bringing himself to his doom at their gossiping hands.

Before he could settle on his choice to drink, his shadows had already made the decision.

"Y…" Mor squinted, her brows furrowed, and Azriel’s blood ran cold when he heard the first few syllables of her name. "Y/n?"

Azriel stared at Mor, who smirked, her eyes fixed on Azriel’s forehead as she leaned back. Azriel looked around at all his friends, wondering what the hell was going on and how they knew Y/n’s name. And then a shadow moved closer to his ear.

Y/n.

Y/n Y/n Y/n.

Azriel reeled in his frustration at the less than helpful chanting, but then the same shadow hit his chin, prompting him to lift it, and his eyes landed on her.

She wore a simple black dress, the thing covering everything and leaving everything up to imagination with the high neck and long sleeves and skirts. Her hair was open, and she looked just as beautiful as she always did.

And she was looking right at him, her lips spread in a smile as she stood right behind Cassian, seemingly having stood up from the booth next to them.

In the back of his mind, Azriel knew his family was looking at him in concern when he said nothing, but he couldn’t care less as he stared at that smile, the one he had seen for the first time ever.

She is beautiful.

She never smiled more than the slight tilts to her lips, and maybe it was for the good, because if he had seen that smile earlier, he might already be married right now. She was so mesmerising, it was a miracle Azriel hadn’t asked her to be his on the first ever outing to the ice cream shop the two had been to. But if he had seen her offer him that smile, he would have gone too far in love, he knew.

Master needs to stop drooling, he looks like a baby.

And ugly.

Azriel almost turned to scowl, but he did not want to miss even a moment of the smile on her face. But that also led him to the question. Why was she smiling?

She giggled lightly, and he only knew because he saw her throat muscles move as she lifted a finger to her forehead, then pointed at him.

And then Azriel realised.

He quickly lifted his hand to his head, whipping away the shadow that would not stop acting like a smartass teenager. After he was sure the shadow was gone and no longer using his forehead as some sort of writing surface to announce to the world his feelings for a certain bookstore owner, he swallowed and stood, trying to excuse himself.

But Cassian turned, looking right at Y/n. "Are you Y/n?"

The eyes Azriel always found himself lost in lifted to meet his own hazel ones, her cheeks turning a deeper shade as she tried to stop smiling. Azriel could see the blush on her face, even in the dim lighting, and he thanked the mother for his eyesight.

Y/n not having her guard up at all times was not a sight everyone was blessed to witness.

She nodded lightly, glancing around at the rest of Azriel’s friends before giving him a small wave. She turned and walked out after her friends, who laughed among themselves. She did shoot him a glance before she walked out, but then she was gone.

Azriel turned, trying to see if there was any way he could escape his confines, having been pushed to sit between the window and Feyre. And when he didn’t, he climbed onto the seat and stepped behind her, then Rhysand, whispering apologies as he hopped onto the ground and broke into a sprint, hoping to catch up to Y/n.

His family tried to call after him, but Azriel was a male on a mission, and a very skilled one at that.

He stepped out into the cold night air, his eyes landing on Y/n waving at her friends as they went the opposite direction. He swallowed, hoping she would not mind his presence and walked towards her. She probably felt his proximity, as when she turned, she only smiled at him and gestured for him to walk with her.

A shadow floated close to Azriel to inform him of the way his family was watching him like hawks from the window they had sat next to, and when Azriel turned to look, sure enough, Cassian and feyre scrambled away, while Rhysand, Mor and Nesta looked like they were trying too hard to act nonchalant.

"They really are nosy." Y/n’s soft voice reached Azriel, and he turned to offer her an exasperated look.

"And I deal with it everyday."

She laughed, gently slipping her hand to hold his arm. Instantly, his pulse was galloping.

Master is no better than a schoolboy.

Azriel shot a glare to the darned shadow, wondering if there was a chance he could put it in timeout.

"So… I keep you distracted, huh?" Y/n spoke after a moment, making Azriel’s ears go warm.

"I…"

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder as the two walked the rest of the way in silence. Azriel only heard her laugh ring in his ears, wishing and praying that he would be blessed enough by the mother to hear the beautiful sound for the rest of his life.

Only once the two were at her apartment doors did she pull away and step forward, towards the entrance before turning to him, around an arms length of distance between the two.

Too much.

"So?"

Azriel folded his hands at his back, smiling slightly. "So?"

She leaned back against the wall, humming. "When am I meeting the family then?"

His breath hitched. "You… want to?"

She lifted a brow. "You don’t?"

Azriel shook his head, looking down at his boots. "I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, and I know they can be a lot sometimes."

He heard her move closer to him, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze once both her hands had reached out to hold one of his. "I think I am ready, Az."

Az. She called me Az.

He leaned his head closer to her. "What do I get if I take you to meet them?"

She blinked at him. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe you get to tell everyone you are courting me? And you can stop having to sneak around to meet me?"

He grinned, hearing those words spoken into the space between them as he touched his forehead to hers. "Hmm… not enough. I want more."

She snorted. "And what is that?"

"Maybe you take me out to the ice cream shop again." He reached up to touch her cheek, his eyes fixated on the way her skin seemed to contrast with his.

"And this time, we will get a huge bucket of mint chocolate, and share it. Like a real couple."

She smiled again, rolling onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek.

"Mint chocolate it is."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[gotta-winwin]

𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1 - teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter full tw will be posted with the full fic

🪽fic rating/teaser rating: pg/16+

🪽tentative release date: jan 20

☁️ masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart.

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.” 

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show. 

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.” 

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time. 

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.” 

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all. 

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.” 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?” 

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?” 

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?” 

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school?” 

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?” 

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.” 

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him. 

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor. 

“Ditto.” 

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?” 

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence. 

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.” 

“With the utmost pleasure.” 

[justicharge]

SO GOOD

everything of this kept me on thrill, loved it and enjoyed it so much!!!!!

He sucked and nibbled, marking your flesh, and hissing when your hips rolled down, panties soaked with your juices. You couldn’t help it, despite Rafe’s hand pressing to your side, you continued, chasing after the sensation of his cock brushing over your ass through the thin material of your sheer sleep shorts. 

“Fucking hell, doll, ‘that feel good?” He asked, squeezing your tit when you stuck to nodding. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” 

“Feels so good, Rafe.” You muttered, Rafe’s crotch brushing over your clothed, slick folds with each time you grind your hips down.

“There you go.” He mewled out, “Be a good girl n’ show me how good I make you feel.” 

PLEEAASEEEE I'm going craaaazy with the pet names, like good girl, doll, and baby ???? love it and need him to call me all that so bad 🫠🫠🫠🫠😩😩

“Hmm?” You hummed, slightly feeling shy under his gaze. 

“We have all night, baby.” He stifled out a teasing laugh. “I wanna take my time; appreciate each and every inch of you.” 

Rafe’s lips collided with yours in a soft peck, thumb rubbing soothing circles to the curve of your jaw. 

“Let me take care of you.”

THE DUALITY? him asking her for words and being so talkative and dom in a way, but then suddenly changing it to him saying these things???? he's actually insane

and also him being so provocative with Ryan and accepting all the punches? want a man who can handle all that shit for me too and who defends me like that

looking forward to next part baby, so excited 🤭🤭

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (08)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content mature content, nsfw; making out, nipple sucking, teasing, hickies, praise, dry humping (?), pet names, sexual tension, fluff!! sneaking around, fights and arguments, angst

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 07 ! 08 ¡ 09

Your skin burned; heat radiating off your entire body throughout the whole meeting. Rafe’s gaze pierced holes through you, unable to keep his eyes away from you, even with your father mere inches away, the small distance barely separating you. 

The meeting soon came to an end, a sigh of relief escaping your throat the moment the elders shot up from their seats, shaking your parents’ hands as they bid goodbye’s. You scrambled to hide behind your mom, awaiting Rafe and your brother’s leave; just in case the latter puts you in the spot, offering to drive you back, and make things even more awkward than they were. 

After the incident with Ryan, you both tended to be more careful, sneaking around to spend time with each other once everyone fell asleep (like literally… you’d make Rafe double check whether Ryan fell asleep, not choosing to put yourself at risk with the situation). It was oddly thrilling, though your words spoke otherwise, you found joy in telling Rafe off as he drags you to a dim corner away from everyone’s eyes, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins the moment he connects your lips with his, the gesture assuring you in a way; pushing your worries down the pit of your stomach. 

Ryan was also keeping watch, although Rafe brushed off his assumptions, the latter insisted the phone was yours, growing more suspicious when Rafe snatched it before he could get a hold of it. Hiding the whole thing from your brother felt as if something bitter lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t bring yourself to swallow down. 

It was horrible, with the thrill and giddiness came worry and guilt, that even if you were happy, the voices in the back of your head would hold you back, reminding you of the hell you created out of yourself. You were at a point where all you could do was wait, enjoy each moment in hopes of it lasting forever, merely going with the flow for the sake of happiness you’ve forced yourself to appreciate, though it wasn’t worthy of, no amount of assuring convincing you otherwise. 

The deadline for your trip was approaching, with each passing second, minute, hour. And for that, you chose to push down your emotions, enjoy the company of your friends while they were within reach, knowing you weren’t going to see them for the next months; years, even. And Rafe, yeah, the mere thought of dealing with the long distance had you stressing, unable to handle him being a few hours drive away. 

In that short while you spent with your friends had a lasting impact, influencing a big part of your life, one you weren’t aware was missing. It was as if this trip was meant to heal you, pay off all your pain in sorrow with the company of others, even if not much was being done, as you spent most of your time hanging out on the beach near the Airbnb.  

You were still grateful, though, impatiently waiting to get home after your friends suggested a girls’ night out. You swiftly agreed, because who were you to refuse? Besides, you didn’t fully dislike the idea of it, as it would probably help get your mind off things.

You hurried to get changed upon your arrival, sprinting up the stairs with the intention of saving yourself a bit of time. You took an everything shower, styled your hair, did your makeup, and picked something out to wear, not wanting to delay your leave any longer, and waste the precious time your friends spared you. 

Everything was fine, until it came to finding your desired pair of shoes. A puzzled expression settled on your face once you realized your Converse were nowhere in sight, almost as if they vanished into thin air. You searched the entirety of the closet for them, growing panicked when Cleo soon seeked your presence, asking whether you were ready. 

“I can’t find my converse,” you answered, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “I’m sure I put them here, where did they go?” 

“Your converse?” Clep questioned, tilting her head as she observed the now mess of a closet. “I think I saw them in the garage, are they white?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at that, standing to your feet in an instant. “Why are they in the garage?” 

“Girl, I don’t know.” Cleo chuckled, shaking her head. “You should grab them, we’re leaving in a few.” 

“Lifesaver.” you sighed, planting a brief kiss to her cheek before you were off to the garage, entering from the door attached to the kitchen. 

You fanned away the dust fogging your vision, attention shifting to the sun invading the space through the slightly open garage door. You quickly got to searching for your shoes, yelping with excitement when you spotted it lying around, along with your pair of white crocs (God knows how these ended up here). You hurried to put them on, struggling in the process, and sighing with relief after you managed to insert one of them around your foot. 

Your action cut short, breath hitching as a familiar hand sneaked around your waist, halting you in your spot. You wasted no time to turn around, eyes widening in shock when your gaze landed on Rafe, a knowing smile leisurely dancing around his lips at your reaction. 

“You showed up.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “You took so long, I didn’t think you would.” 

“What are you doing?” Your lips parted in a gasp, shoving the latter by the shoulder. “The garage door is open, Rafe. What if someone saw you?!” 

“What, I can’t see my girl now?” His gaze flickered to your lips, leaning his arm over the chair you made yourself comfortable on. He then leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft, yet deliberate kiss, instantly interrupted once you shoved him away.  “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeated through gritted teeth, “Were you the one who stole my shoes?” 

“What? No!” He said in between giggles, the cockiness in his tone immediately giving away the white lie. “You know I would never.” 

“You idiot!” You huffed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep doing this.” 

“You barely make time for me now,” he pouted, watching as you strived to put the other pair of shoes on. “I had to take action, since someone is playing hard to get.” 

A scoff escaped your throat at the snarky comment, firmly tying the shoelaces into a knot before you stood to your feet, straightening your back to catch glimpse of Rafe, whose eyes followed your every move. 

“What if I never wore my converse?” You snickered, pursing your mouth into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Then what, would you have still waited for me?” 

“Without a doubt,” he replied with no hesitation. “I knew you’d wear them, though; you always do.”

“Whatever,” you playfully rolled your eyes, disregarding the way your face flushed with heat, expression giving your shyness away. “I need to leave.” 

“So soon?” His eyebrows curled with disappointment, as he pressed one of his hands to your hips, using the gesture to pull you closer. He tilted your head with the tip of his fingers, instantly crashing his lips into yours in a teasing kiss, teeth lightly grazing over your bottom lip before he pulled away. “I jus’ got ahold of you,” and another kiss, “care to spare me a few minutes?” 

“This is not working on me, Rafe.” You pushed him off, though you fully melted in his hold, wanting nothing but to get a taste of his lips again. “You know I can’t, Sarah will kill me if I’m late.” 

“There you go with Sarah,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he moved away, giving you enough space to get through. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Well, I’m sorry.” You giggled, scrunching your nose at his reaction. “I’ll be back soon, don’t be upset.” You glimpsed around, eyeing the place carefully before you grabbed his face, not giving Rafe time to process the situation before you were leaping him in a soft kiss, one bidding him goodbye, and leaving him craving more. “Bye, I’ll miss you.” 

At that, Rafe grins, admiring as you walked away, now creating somewhat of a distance between you two. He waved his hand in your direction, swaying his body back and forth with mere giddiness. “Text me!” 

You nod in response, chuckling before strolling your way in your friends’ direction, instantly flashing Sarah an apologetic smile upon catching glimpse of her sulky expression. 

Rafe stretched his arms over his head, letting his eyes fall shut as a groggy groan escaped his throat, the action falling interrupted when he turned in the door’s (the one leading to the kitchen) direction, and spotted Ryan, whose glare puzzled Rafe, unable to read his mind, and know what he was thinking. 

“Ryan,” He nervously started, “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long,” the latter mumbled, exhaling through his parted lips. “Wanted to check why this door was open.” 

“Oh,” Rafe relaxed, partially due to the explanation, pausing before he continued. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “I got takeout, wanna eat?” 

“Sure.” Rafe nodded, following in Ryan’s steps when he took his leave, and making sure to close the door once he was inside. His eyebrows quirked upon his gaze landing on the table, confused on why there was no food plated on the hardwood. “Where’s the food?” 

“On the porch.” Ryan dismissed, escorting Rafe outside. He took a seat on one of the chairs, quickly joined by rafe as he reached for one of the boxed foods splayed on the table. “Help yourself out.”

Ryan didn't need to tell him twice as he dug in, munching on his food while admiring the rocky waves. It was a beautiful sight, calming Rafe in a way, though that didn't last forever as he took notice of the latter, who stuck to playing with the noodles instead of eating.

“Why aren't you eating?” Rafe asked, addressing Ryan with his chin. “Do you not like it?” 

Ryan remained silent, gaze yet fixed on the food in his lap, letting silence seep in before he cut through it. “I saw you earlier.” 

“Me?” Rafe scoffed through a mouthful of food, leaning back in his chair. “When?

“In the garage, with my sister.” Rafe almost chokes when Ryan replies, mouth stilling for a moment. “You know, Bug; the same girl you referred to as a sister.” 

Fuck. He knows. 

Rafe’s heart drops at that, fully abandoning the food he had in hand, tossing it on the table as he casually spins in Ryan’s direction, a mere attempt of maintaining a calm expression, as if he wasn't a panicking mess deep down. 

“What do you mean?” He feigned oblivion, blinking far too many times for his liking. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rafe.” Ryan stifles out a sarcastic laugh, turning to face Rafe, who despite his cool expression, turned red with nervousness. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“I don't.” Rafe lied through his teeth, gulping when Ryan straightened up, getting off the chair in an instant.

Ryan gave Rafe no time to process the situation, swinging a punch to his face, immediately causing the latter to stumble back, fully taken aback by the gesture. 

Sure, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, but it never got this bad; to the point where they needed to involve violence. 

“You’re fucking my sister, huh?” He then punches him again, and in that moment, awareness washed over Rafe, as he realized this was it. The truth was out, Ryan found out. “Out of everyone, you go for my sister?!”

Rafe sat there, didn't even bother swinging back, or defend himself, hence he knew he deserved it. He hid this for far too long, letting the guilt build up instead of owning up to it and being honest with his best friend. He let Ryan yank him up, then throw him to the floor, then proceeded to relax as he threw another punch to his face, completely wrecking his features with bruises that formed within seconds. 

“I thought you were my best friend,” Ryan grunted out, now pressing Rafe to the floor with his knees locking him in place. “I told you,” a punch, “not to fucking” and another, “touch my sister!” 

Rafe almost laughs at the statement, choosing to swallow it down, as his friend was already furious; he’d completely lose it if Rafe were to open his mouth, let alone laugh. 

He couldn't help it, though, giggling when he caught a glimpse of Ryan’s upset expression, perhaps not taking the situation as seriously as he truly should. 

Ryan pauses at that, eyebrows curling with confusion, as to why the latter suddenly erupted into a fit of chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“God, you’re ridiculous.” Rafe muttered through a breath, causing Ryan to perk with pent-up anger. 

“What did you say?” Ryan mumbles through gritted teeth, failing to hold himself back. 

Rafe straightened in his position, groaning once he pushed Ryan off, letting the latter fall to his side. His lips gaped in pain, hissing when his fingers brushed over the bruise near his mouth upon noticing the blood gushing out. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Rafe asked, a smug smirk slowly tugging at his lips. 

“You want me to fuckin’ kill you?” Ryan spat out, face fuming with anger. “You think my sister is a whore? You can sleep with her and call it a night? Huh?”

Rafe’s teeth clenched at that, tugging Ryan by the collar of his shirt. He yanked him back, veins trailing a path to beneath his buzzed hair, unable to contain himself, nor fight the urge to maintain patience. 

“Don’t cross the line, Ryan.” He threatened, tone serious, as well as the expression smothering across his face. “Say shit like that one more time and I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’hear me? I could easily take you down; kill you if I wanted, but I won't, ‘cause you're my best friend.” He then paused, seeking Ryan's gaze through his foggy vision before he continued. “I won't let you assume shit, okay? You can't say bullshit like this and expect me not to say anything.” 

“Assume? You’ve been hiding the whole fuckin’ thing from me.” Ryan scoffed, ridiculed by Rafe’s words. “You know how I get when I’m angry, Rafe, don’t fucking tempt me.”

“Let it all out, Ryan.” Rafe let go of him, holding onto the chair for support to get himself off the ground, quickly standing to his feet. “I like her, and I’m willing to do anything to be with her, even if I lose myself doing it.” Rafe grabbed his phone from the table, along with his wallet, as he inserted them in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m not letting her go, no amount of convincing could change my decision.” 

Ryan sat there and watched, gaze following Rafe as he strived to take his leave, immediately disappearing out of the latter’s sight. Telling (?) his best friend felt like something heavy getting off his chest, though he still had plenty to worry about. It was nice, knowing he won't have to hide his feelings away anymore. 

He planned to keep the incident between him and Ryan for now, not wanting you to find out, just for a fight to break down between you and your brother. For now, the least he could do is avoid you, favorably till his bruises healed. 

And that’s exactly what he did. Rafe never left his room, even after you came back, sticking to texting you instead, and refusing to see you, though you hinted your want to meet him. 

The latter wasn't budging, brushing off your attempts by changing the topic, and before you knew it, night has approached, later followed by you falling into deep slumber, only realizing you fell asleep after randomly waking up in the middle of the night to your phone abandoned on your pillow, after your many shots of convincing Rafe to see you. 

He’ll come around, you were probably going to see him during breakfast tomorrow. 

Or at least you hoped. 

Rafe never showed up for breakfast. 

You were confused, cluelessly staring at your food while your friends filled the room with chaos, failing to notice the disappointment sprawling across your face. 

You’ve grown used to the teasing comments Rafe would throw in your direction, wishing he was there to at least keep you company. You miss him, so much, it was driving you crazy. Throughout your nearly two months of staying here, this is the longest it's been since you last spoke to Rafe, or seen him in person; and that alone had you spiraling with frustration. 

Something was wrong. It wasn't a typical lazy morning for Rafe, as he always manages to squeeze in a bit of quality time, despite how hectic his schedule would get. This time around, he didn't even bother explaining the reason behind his sudden disappearance, remaining a mystery with each time your curiosity grew. 

That of course, lasted till the afternoon, when you fortuitously stumbled upon Rafe as he sneaked his way out to the bathroom, not catching glimpse of you down the hall; staring him down with a million thoughts wandering through your head. He clicked the door shut, taking the opportunity for granted when you strolled your way in his direction, disregarding the fact that others could see you, and only focusing on Rafe, while you patiently waited for him to exit the bathroom. 

The sound of the door unlatching made you perk up, breath knocking out of your chest when your gaze landed on Rafe, who froze, a look of discomfort instantly spreading on his face. His face, it was bruised, freckled with purple patches that covered a decent amount of his features, you almost didn’t recognize him. 

He muttered out your name through a breath, not looking too fond of getting caught in this condition, clearly uncomfortable with you trying to read his expression like you knew exactly what happened, and how he was feeling. With a gulp, the latter started again, tone evident, in contrast to his emotions. “What are you doing here?” 

“What happened to your face?” You asked, reaching out for his face, merely for the latter to dodge it as he grasps your wrist in between his fingers, holding it firm and in place. 

“Nothin’, I got drunk and accidently got into a fight.” Rafe lied through his teeth, loosening his hold around your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“You didn’t leave the house yesterday, Rafe.” You exclaimed, in response to his deceiving statement. “Who did this to you? Was it Topper? Did he show up while we were gone?” 

“C’mon,” he clicked his teeth, giggling to brighten the mood. “You think I’m that weak?” 

“This is not a laughing matter, Rafe!” You huffed, eyebrows knitting with frustration. “You were jus’ fine, how did you get all these bruises?”

“Baby, it’s nothing, like I said, I got drunk and–” his sentence was cut short as he jolted back, the muscular figure in view causing you to gasp before you stumbled back, eyes immediately widening in shock upon catching sight of Ryan, now pressing Rafe to the wall.

“‘Fuck are you doing, Rafe?” He asked through gritted teeth, tightening his hold around the collar of Rafe’s shirt when the latter remained silent, leisurely fluttering his eyes shut in response. “Didn’t I warn you, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ respect me for once?”

Rafe scoffed at that, angling his head back as he stifled out a laugh, hands landing on top of Ryan’s, before he shoved them off, slyly fixing the collar of his shirt. “You’re full of shit.” 

“What did you say?” Ryan moved forward, fingers clutching into a fist at Rafe’s words, aiming to swing at him, merely for you to interfere with the arm you pressed to his chest. 

“What is going on here?” You questioned with disbelief, gaze flickering between your brother and Rafe, hoping for an explanation, an answer, at least. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Rafe assured, addressing you with a tight-lipped smile. “Jus’ go back to your room, I’ll catch you later.” 

“Motherfucker,” Ryan spat back, venom filling the void in his tone. “You’re doin’ this to piss me off, aren’t you?” 

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now…” you muttered under your breath, confusing no one but yourself. “Why are you fighting?” 

“Why are you involving her?” Rafe mumbled, jaw clenching with anger. “Might as well jus’ tell everyone else, huh? Yeah everyone, my sister and my best friend have feelings for each other, and I’m a lil’ bitch that can’t handle things not going my way, so I decided to break things off between them, then beat my friend into a pulp to feel better about myself.” 

What?

Your lips parted in an inaudible gasp, halting in your tracks at the truth, and the reason behind their argument. Fuck, Ryan found out. 

He’d have to find out one day, you knew that, but right now? Your heart instantly sunk to your stomach, breath heaving with each exhale departing your lips, unaware of what to do with yourself, and the new information that practically slapped their way into your brain. 

By the looks of it, Ryan did not handle the truth well, hence the proof was evident on Rafe’s face. 

“I asked one thing of you, Rafe.” Ryan stated, “One thing; don’t fucking touch my little sister, and what did you do? You go n’ kiss her? What, you expect me to sit back and be happy about this?” 

“What do you wanna do?” Rafe’s face twisted with irritation, arms moving in front of his chest as he straightened up, now invading Ryan’s personal space. “What, you’ll try to separate us? I already fucking told you, I’m not letting her go, Ryan. I– I like her, so much; you of all people should know how serious this is for me.” 

“Go fuck yourself for all I care.” Ryan choked out a sarcastic laugh, “I know you, you’re a fucking asshole, and a scumbag who only cares about himself, don’t come talkin’ about serious shit, I know you won’t treat my sister well.” 

“You’re overstepping it,” Rafe started, tone serious, a slight warning for Ryan. “Don’t make me do somethin’ I’ll regret.” 

“Yeah?” Ryan mocked, getting under Rafe’s skin. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Stop talking.” You interrupted, sighing aloud with exasperation. “Just shut up, what if someone hears you? What will you tell them?” 

“But–” Ryan started. 

“Don’t.” You beat him to it, fluttering your eyes shut before you continued. “Go to your rooms, and handle this privately, please. Don’t start saying dumb shit only to regret it later on.” 

At that, both of them fall quiet, letting silence seep through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension that could kill. Ryan took a moment to collect himself, before wandering back to his room, knowing if he spoke he wouldn't stop talking. 

As for Rafe, the latter stared into the void, watching as you walked away, knowing he can’t speak up, in case he says something and ruins things for himself, messing them up more than they already were. Instead, he observed as you disappeared off to your room, lingering for just a moment, in hopes of seeing you for a few seconds, a mere glimpse, if that was too much to ask for. 

Disappointment washed over his chest once he realized you were gone, hopelessly heading back to his room, with the intentions of locking himself in there forever, maybe until he reflects on the dumb decisions his mind keeps suggesting, letting the voices in his head take over each time he was in the slightest bit agitated. However, that wasn’t long, as he was pulled out of his head when a soft knock erupted through the door, that if not for the silence, Rafe wouldn’t have heard it. 

His brows curled with puzzlement, hesitating to unlatch the door, only twisting the doorknob when another knock came through. Rafe’s chest raised at the sight of you, straightening up when he came in view, slightly taken aback by your presence. His gaze trailed down to the first-aid kit in your hold, heart quickening in pace upon realizing your reason for disappearance. 

The air filled with comfortable silence, Rafe didn’t dare cut through it, merely moving to the side to let you through, with you quietly accepting the invitation as you let yourself inside. Rafe shut the door, before he followed in your steps, deliberately approaching you as if not to startle you, admiring while you unpacked the boxed medicine in the process. 

A smile threatened to tug at his lips, fading in an instant when you turned, addressing him with your sharp gaze, that he somehow couldn’t read, falling blank since earlier. 

“Sit.” You ordered, dipping a q-tip in the rubbing alcohol that came with the kit. 

Rafe did as told, shoulder bumping into yours in the process of getting himself to the bed. He made himself comfortable on the edge, angling his head back to make it easier for you to apply the medicine. 

You tapped the ointment to the bruise near his mouth, hushing out an apology when he hissed in pain, continuing to clean up the wound, though it was probably too late now. You still wanted to do it, though, guilt settling in the pit of your stomach once you found out it was your brother’s doing. 

“I knew it.” You whispered through a shuddered breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect him to be this upset when he found out.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Rafe spoke, regretting it as he grunted in pain, his now disinfected wound burning when he moved his mouth. “It’s fine, I know how he gets when he’s angry.” 

“You’re both idiots.” You scoffed, a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. “Why were you provoking him, then?” 

“For fun.” He chuckled, letting tension linger in the air. 

You continued disinfecting the bruises, almost crumbling as his arm instinctively found the curse of your waist, fingertips rubbing soothing circles to the exposed flesh around your side. You tried not to react to the touch, feigning oblivion to his legs locking you in place, giving you no chance to escape him, or the desire pumping through your insides. 

“You’re so pretty.” Rafe’s voice abruptly broke out, earning your attention as you stopped what you were doing, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face. 

“Well, you’re not.” You teased, covering your flusteredness, wrapping up the first aid kit once you were done. “You’re busted, don’t get beaten up again.” 

Rafe squeezed your hip at the playful statement, chuckling along with you, though that gesture of his was desperate, speaking for all his wants and needs. “I’d gladly take another beating for you.” 

Your heart raced in your chest, mouth pressing into a thin line to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. You hated how sappy the snarky comment was, making you feel shy like a girl with her first crush, as if you’ve never experienced anything romantic before. 

“You’re an idiot.” You hushed out, almost gasping when Rafe’s fingers lightly tugged the waistband of your shorts, leisurely slipping them underneath, just enough to receive a reaction out of you. 

A hum of content rummaged out of his chest, tilting his head back even more, until the yearn in his gaze was visible, and in view, unable to hide it anymore. He fluttered his eyes up at you, pupils dilating with need, as new found tension seeped through, unlike the other times something bloomed between you two. 

This time, it was different, body submitting each time his touch would linger, clearly expressing the keenness heavy in his heart, now finally able to showcase it through action, with no one to interrupt, nor guilt to interfere. 

No thoughts were thought, no words were said, both of your minds were blank, full of emotions, and hushed desire. A breathy sigh stuttered out of your chest, fingers lightly grazing Rafe’s arms as they leisurely trailed up his shoulders, till you reached the crook of his neck. 

You engulfed his neck in your hands, thumbs gently pressing to his adam’s apple when you tilted his head back more, hinting that you were just as eager as he was, unable to put an end to the yearn eating through your heart, eventually aiming to do something about it. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, fingers landing over yours. 

He wasted no time, immediately standing to his feet as he captured your lips in a kiss, knocking a breath out of your chest in the process. You stumbled back, slightly taken aback, though you quickly adjusted to the situation, slowly moving your lips over Rafe’s, able to taste the blood on his mouth. 

It was bittersweet, raw, full of emotions, speaking louder than you can put into words. Rafe’s lips moved with a motive, hot breath fanning over yours as he licked and nipped at your mouth, taking the gasp you let out for granted to slip his tongue in between your parted lips, and letting the warmness of your mouth engulf his own. 

His tongue met yours halfway through, a whine muffling its way out when his teeth grazed over your lip, aiming to explore every part of your mouth, even if it meant spending the rest of his life here in this moment. You tasted so fucking good, hell, eve better than the last time he’s kissed you. 

Rafe was drunk on your lips, not a thought behind his eyes as he stumbled back, littering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your hot mouth in the process of sitting himself down, tugging your head downwards with him. You almost chuckled at the gesture, action interrupted when he pulled away, eyes hazing with pure lust. 

Loud breaths heaved their way out of his chest, lips parting with a glossy layer of spit. His hooded pupils dilated with yearn, hands exploring your body like no other, unable to keep them to himself. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, sloppily pushing it up before his mouth found the plush of your stomach. 

Your head tilted back with pleasure, eyes forcing shut as you took in the sensation of Rafe’s tongue swirling around the low of your stomach, nibbling on the skin for a reaction out of you. He’d linger for a second, planting a soft kiss over the spot to soothe away the pain, and hell, did it feel good. 

He savored every bit of skin, whatever kept his mouth busy was not preventing him from caressing your body, worshiping you like you’re the only thing that matters. And you were, in Rafe’s eyes, things could not get any better, he’s wanted nothing but to do this, taste you, do this without the voices in his head lecturing him over the consequences of his actions. 

“So perfect.” He muffled, thumb pressing to the material of your bra, while yet holding your shirt in place. “Fuckin’ killin’ me, everything you do drives me crazy.” 

“Rafeee," you whined, (holding onto his non existent hair) fingernails digging to his shoulders, the sensation earning a grunt out of Rafe, yet littering love bites to your stomach. 

He nipped and kissed the soft flesh, one of his hands kneading the plush of your ass, using the pressure of his hold to push you down, causing you to almost fall as you landed in his lap, immediately straddling him, and making yourself comfortable. 

You adjusted yourself around the boy, almost shuddering when his hardon brushed over your ass, swallowing down your nervousness when his gaze leveled with yours, not breaking eye contact. His stares burned holes through you, you felt shy, and the need to get away before you melt in his arms. 

A sly smirk tugged at his bruised lips, tongue toying with his teeth as he leisurely tugged your shirt with both of his hands, slipping it over your head, until you were left with the thin fabric of your bra. 

His eyes hungrily trailed to your cleavage, throat running dry when he gulped, vision going blurry at the sight of your boobs perfectly sitting in place, begging to be touched and caressed by him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked for consent, letting his gaze flicker to yours for a brief second. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, sweeping him in a quick kiss, forehead connecting with his once you pulled away. “Now do somethin’ please.” 

“No need to say it twice, baby.” He whispered, licking into your mouth. One of his hands sneaked its way to your back, landing around your bra, swiftly unclipping it, until the straps fell loose around your arms. 

A wave of nervousness came crashing, watching with haste as Rafe froze, eyes flickering to your half-exposed nipples, now freckled with goosebumps due to the chilly breeze invading the hidden flesh. 

Rafe carefully hauled the strings down, till they were off your arms, freeing your chest from that stupid bra. Rafe’s mouth salivated at the sight, the bulge in his pants twitching with need. They were perfect, I mean, come on, Rafe was no virgin, but seeing you like this has no reason making his mind race with all sorts of thoughts, like a loser about to have sex for the first time. 

This was better than his imagination, so much better than letting his head wander off to how you’ll scream his name when he fucks you, tits bouncing beautifully while you ride his cock. It was a sight, one that made him feel dumb, and idiotic, for even thinking he can have you. 

“God,” he groaned, cupping one of your tits in his hold. “Such a fuckin’ brat, always makin’ me feel dirty.” 

Your back arched, chasing after the fraction of his thumb rolling your now hardened nipple in his fingers. You were insanely turned on, the sensation making your brain fuzzy, now dizzy all over. And if you thought that felt good, then you were wrong, completely jerking in Rafe’s arms when his mouth captured your nipple in between his lips. 

His mouth glided over the skin, coating it with a layer of hot spit, as he swirled his tongue just around the hard nub, causing you to yelp with pleasure. His teeth lightly grazed the sensitive flesh, mouth pooling with thirst, cherishing every second of this like a man starved. 

He sucked and nibbled, marking your flesh, and hissing when your hips rolled down, panties soaked with your juices. You couldn’t help it, despite Rafe’s hand pressing to your side, you continued, chasing after the sensation of his cock brushing over your ass through the thin material of your sheer sleep shorts. 

“Fucking hell, doll, ‘that feel good?” He asked, squeezing your tit when you stuck to nodding. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” 

“Feels so good, Rafe.” You muttered, Rafe’s crotch brushing over your clothed, slick folds with each time you grind your hips down. 

“There you go.” He mewled out, “Be a good girl n’ show me how good I make you feel.” 

Your body tingled all over at the statement, grinding down with all your might, as you feel your climax building up. Rafe, too, took notice of that, halting your hips in place to earn your attention. 

“Wait.” He mumbled, lips parting in a shaky exhale. 

“What?” You asked, fluttering your eyes open to catch glimpse of Rafe. 

“Don’t.” He warned, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, slightly feeling shy under his gaze. 

“We have all night, baby.” He stifled out a teasing laugh. “I wanna take my time; appreciate each and every inch of you.” 

Rafe’s lips collided with yours in a soft peck, thumb rubbing soothing circles to the curve of your jaw. 

“Let me take care of you.”

That was it. The only assurance you needed. You wanted this, more than anything. 

Fuck the world, hell might as well get fucked too. 

a/n all support is v much appreciated!! this one is my fav despite how poorly written it was 😭 i tried to portray the fight scene and the tension in a somewhat decent way but this is all i can manage sorry fellas </3 but yeah phew ryan finally found out... didnt handle it well but 😜 anyways!! next part might be an extra of their first time... pure smut continuing this chapter so lmk if you guys are interested HAHA won't guarantee it being good but... yeha!! its not a necessary read, doesnt add anything to the plot, but i still kinda want to do it yeahh!! with that being said, lmk your thoughts on this chapter <33

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[callme-holly]

dallas winston getting his hair played with for the first time by his gf and he just knocks OUTT. and then he wakes up and is like "dont tell ANYONE abt this..." and then it becomes a frequent thing

𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐚 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

ataraxia: (n.) a state of serene calmness a/n: my inbox is temporarily closed while i work through some requests. it'll hopefully be open in a few days !!

The bedroom was blissfully peaceful, enveloped in a silence that was broken only by your soft breaths and the gentle snores coming from Dallas, his head resting in your lap, your fingers carding through his hair.

The sunlight streamed in through your window, bathing the room in a gentle golden hue, catching on the strands of blonde as you scratched idly at his scalp, admiring the softness of his features as he slept, taking note of every little detail. 

There’s a very light dusting of freckles across his nose, so light you’d never notice them if you weren’t looking for them, each mark spaced out like stars on his pale skin. A scar marrs the expanse just above his eyebrow, jagged and rough, but long since healed over; you don’t know where he’d gotten it, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure he knows either.

He grunts slightly, shifting a little on top of your covers, the sheets crinkling under his weight. You don’t stop your ministrations, continuing to brush through his hair. It’d taken long enough for him to settle, and even longer for you to even convince him to let you touch his hair. He’d argued at first, protests spilling forth like a strong current tearing through a dam, sharp and cutting—but the second he’d felt your hand in his hair, he quieted down, and before you knew it, he was out like a light. 

He shifts again, another groan leaving him as he begins to stir. 

“You ain’t gonna tell anyone about this.” His words are slurred and rough with sleep, and you can’t tell whether it’s a statement or a question. Either way, you shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips.

“No. No, I’m not.”

His eyes flutter open, and he blinks cluelessly at you for a moment, his eyes hazy with the remnants of exhaustion. He hums lazily in response.

“Good.” To your surprise, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he closes his eyes once more, seemingly content to remain exactly where he is.

His hand rests lightly on your leg, thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin, and you let your fingers trace the contour of his jaw, the pads brushing over every mark and scar, every little imperfection that all seem to add up to make him perfect. 

It isn't until that moment, admiring every little detail of him as he sleeps, that the true reason for his reluctance makes sense: Dallas Winston is a rough, wild thing. He's trouble; he's volatile; he's uncontrollable... But behind it all, behind that mask of indifference, is a vulnerability he's too afraid to let show.

“I love you…” The words leave you before you can even think about what you're saying. Dallas doesn't open his eyes; he doesn't even stir, simply nodding in response.

“Yeah. I know you do, doll.” 

You lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his forehead, smiling once more, brushing those stubborn blonde wisps back from his forehead. You weren't expecting him to say it back; he never does, but the way he's lying now, quiet and content against you, you can tell that maybe he quite likes you too.

[ohgodthevoices]

Kenma / Kageyama headcanons because they’re very relatable i fear

KENMA

• surprisingly kenma has quite the sweet tooth , he definitely does 3am kitchen trips

• he’s not big on pda, he even asked you to refrain on that , however in crowded places or when he’s anxious he likes to hold pinkies, it reminds him you’re here

• kenma doesn’t really express his love by saying stuff like “i love you” or use pet names, he’d rather show his love through actions such as :

• leaving cute lil notes in your notebooks when you’re not looking

• he doesn’t get jealous , kenma sometimes feels like you’d be better off with another guy. he gets insecure instead and you have to show him that he’s the one you chose

• his all time favorite memory with you so far is when he was sitting on the floor playing on his switch and you were in the couch braiding his hair

• kenma is a blanket hogger. He would subconsciously steal the blankets and wrap himself in it like a burrito

• he sometimes would stare at your hands, secretly thinking how nice they would look holding his own.

• sleeping on your chest is his favorite position, not because of what you might be thinking, but hearing your steady heartbeat really calms him down and shuts his brain

• when he’s alone— or with the few people he’s comfortable enough with— he tends to hum when he spaces out

•he has a habit of accidentally hoarding random items like old receipts or gum wrappers.

KAGEYAMA

•we all know our beloved kageyama is competitive, it still was surprising when he actually refused to cuddle the night you beat him at a board game

•he always thought he was a picky eater , little did he know— he just didn’t know how to cook

•kageyama loves when you help him with english homework , he thinks your accent is attractive

• when you’re holding hands , he usually plays with your fingers and traces lil circles and hearts on your palm

•his secret talent is that he’s a master at origami

•kageyama actually likes to watch rom-coms (only if it had a good ending tho) but he’d rather shave his own head than admit it

•he’s usually not really the scared type , he’s pretty brave but GOD FORBID is there’s a clown

•he’s also really good at drawing , biggest reason why he doesn’t focus in class— he’s most definitely drawing you, he’s been drawing you before you even got close

•his brain is so rotted, kageyama will only watch a video or focus if there’s subway surfer on the side

•when he first started dating , he read romance novels as if they were manuals for relationships

•kageyama has a fear of heights and will AVOID AT ALL COSTS ladders or standings on tall chairs

[cherryxbooo]

Okaaaay I can't resist on sending in another idea ❤️😊 I just loved the previous imagine too much!

Maybe some more Tim angst, where he's dating another officer for a while now and they're really happy. Then someday they get into an argument about something stupid, so she keeps ignoring him for nearly the whole shift. Later he hears over the radio that one officer got shot during a call and he already has a bad feeling. Just then his phone rings and Grey confirms his fears that it was you.

At the hospital it's not sure if you'll survive and Tim fears losing you without apologizing. In the end you survive of course and it's all just cute and fluffy in the end 🙊

We’re in this together

Summary: A police shift goes wrong, nothing out of the ordinary for an officer, but it hits differently when you’re losing the love of your life, and your last interaction was a fight.

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the small kitchen as I leaned against the counter, cradling my favorite mug in both hands.

The first sip sent a warmth through me that was only rivaled by the sight in front of me.

Tim sat at the table, hunched over, tying his boots with the same care and focus he brought to everything he did.

Sunlight poured through the window, framing him in a soft glow, and I couldn’t help the way my lips tugged into a smile.

“Another day, another shift,” I teased, my voice gentle as I took another sip of coffee.

He glanced up at me with a crooked smile that never failed to make my heart flutter.

“Another day of you trying to boss me around.”

I raised an eyebrow, setting my mug down as I sauntered toward him.

“You love it when I boss you around.”

Tim chuckled, his hands pausing on his laces as he gave me a look that was all warmth and affection.

“You might have a point, sweetheart.”

He tugged the laces one last time and stood, towering over me in that way that always made me feel both small and completely safe.

“But I think I deserve a little credit for putting up with you.”

“Putting up with me?” I repeated, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

“Who’s the one who burned breakfast again last week? Pretty sure I’m the patient one here.”

Tim stepped closer, his hands finding their way to my hips as he leaned down just enough to press a kiss to my temple.

“I burned breakfast because you distracted me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a little shiver through me.

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as I rested my hands on his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied without missing a beat, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried.

He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

“Ready to head out, or should we take another five minutes to ‘discuss’ who’s the patient one in this relationship?”

I laughed again, giving his chest a gentle shove.

“Grab your jacket, Bradford. We’re not showing up late just because you can’t stop flirting.”

Tim grabbed his jacket and slid it on, but not before stealing one last kiss, quick but lingering enough to leave my heart racing.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured as he opened the door for me.

“You make it too easy.”

The drive to the station was filled with the kind of soft, easy conversation that came with knowing someone inside and out.

Tim reached over at one point, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the console.

Without a word, he intertwined our fingers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over my skin as we drove.

“Think Cap will still be in that mood again today?” Tim asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Probably,” I replied with a grin.

“You know how he gets when things don’t go perfectly. Angela said he spent half the night poring over those reports. Sounds almost like you.”

Tim shook his head with a soft laugh, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

“He needs to take a page out of your book and learn how to relax. Just like how you thought me.”

I smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’ll let him know you said that.”

“You would,”

he replied with mock exasperation, but his grin softened as he lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm and gentle.

“That’s why I keep you around, you keep everyone on their toes.”

My cheeks warmed at the affection in his voice, and I leaned back into the seat, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment.

With Tim, even the drive to work felt like something special, like a little pocket of peace in the chaos of our lives.

As we pulled into the station’s parking lot, Tim shifted the car into park but didn’t move to get out just yet.

Instead, he turned to me, his gaze soft and adoring.

“What do you want to do on our next day off? Our day off is sacred, you know.”

I tilted my head, pretending to think, even as a smile tugged at my lips.

“How about a picnic? Somewhere quiet, just us. You bring the sandwiches, and I’ll bring dessert.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in to steal one last kiss before we stepped out into the world of uniforms and chaos.

“You always know how to make a day perfect,” he murmured against my lips.

“So do you,”

I whispered back still not believing I've got the grumpy Tim Bradford wrapped around my finger.

The precinct was already alive with its usual controlled chaos when we arrived.

The familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air.

Officers walked around, exchanging case files, refilling coffee mugs, and prepping for the day ahead.

Tim and I stepped through the front doors together, the click of his boots against the tiled floor perfectly in sync with mine.

Ever the gentleman, Tim held the door open for me, his hand brushing lightly against the small of my back as I walked in.

The gesture was small but grounding, one of those quiet moments of affection that felt uniquely ours.

We didn’t make it three steps inside before Lucy’s voice rang out, full of teasing energy.

“Oh, look, it’s the power couple gracing us with their presence!”

she called, grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against her desk.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

“Good morning to you too, Chen.”

Angela was quick to join in, an amused smirk playing on her face.

“Wait a second... is that a smile on Tim’s face? What did you do, bribe him with something?”

I turned to Tim, arching a playful eyebrow.

“See? They think you’re less grumpy. Guess I’m rubbing off on you after all.”

Tim let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not that grumpy,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching upward.

“Oh, sure,” Angela replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“And I’m the King of England.”

I laughed, giving Tim a quick wink as we moved toward our desks.

“Don’t worry, Bradford. I like you grumpy. Keeps things interesting.”

He shot me a mock glare, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he pulled his chair out and settled in across from me.

The morning briefing was the usual mix of updates and assignments, with Grey running through the day’s agenda in his signature no-nonsense tone.

Tim sat beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence that made my heart skip despite the mundane nature of the meeting.

When the captain finally dismissed us, Tim leaned over, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“You zoning out on me, sweetheart?”

I smirked, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad.

“Nope. Just wondering how you manage to look so serious all the time.”

He tilted his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “It’s a gift.”

“Must be exhausting,” I teased, standing and grabbing my notes as we joined the others heading toward the bullpen.

The rest of the morning passed in a comfortable rhythm as Tim and I fell into our usual routine.

Working together had become second nature after months of finding our rhythm.

We didn’t need words to communicate half the time, a shared glance or the slightest tilt of his head was enough to tell me what he was thinking.

But as the hours ticked by, the warmth of the morning started to shift.

Calls came in one after another, each one more demanding than the last.

The weight of the job pressed down on us, and the lighthearted banter that carried us through most days began to fade.

During a brief moment of reprieve, Tim appeared beside me, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

His expression was softer now, more serious, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Thought you could use this,” he said simply, his voice quieter than usual.

I took the cup, my fingers brushing his for just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.

He gave a small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that he saved just for me.

“Don’t mention it. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

It was moments like these, tucked between the chaos and the noise, that reminded me how lucky I was.

With Tim, the hard days felt a little less heavy, and the good ones felt extraordinary.

Tim and I rarely fight, but if we did, we were quick to make up. But this time I wasn't so sure about that.

It began in the shop during a lull between calls, one of those rare, quiet moments when the hum of the engine was the only sound filling the air.

The city seemed unusually still, as though even it were taking a breath.

I glanced out the window, watching the sunlight play off passing buildings, when the thought struck me.

“Hey,” I said casually,

“we’re out of supplies in the first aid kit.”

Tim, who’d been focused on the road, flicked his eyes toward me briefly.

“You forgot to restock it, didn’t you?”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an edge that immediately put me on the defensive.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? You’re the one who used it last.”

He let out a short breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, and I told you to refill it afterward.”

“You told me?” I shot back, incredulous.

“No, you mentioned it in passing, and I assumed you’d take care of it since, you know, you used it.”

Tim’s jaw tightened as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s not about who used it. It’s about being prepared. What if we get a call and need it? Are we supposed to improvise because you didn’t think to check?”

His words, laced with frustration, hit a nerve.

My temper flared, and I turned in my seat to face him fully.

“Oh, so now it’s my job to clean up after you? Got it. I’ll just add that to the list, right after making sure you remember to pack your lunch and not leave your coffee mug in the car.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“This isn’t about me leaving my mug. This is about you taking responsibility for something important instead of deflecting every damn time.”

The way he said it like I was careless or didn’t pull my weight, sent a sharp pang of hurt through me.

“Wow, Tim,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks for the lecture. I’ll be sure to put it in the suggestion box right after I file all the other things you think I should be doing better.”

“Forget it,”

he muttered, his tone curt as he turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I crossed my arms, glaring out the window as silence fell over the car.

The warmth and ease of the morning were gone, replaced by an icy tension that made the air feel heavier.

By the time we pulled up to the next call, the tension had settled in so thickly it felt like another passenger in the car.

Neither of us spoke as we stepped out and approached the scene, our usual rhythm replaced by clipped movements and short, professional exchanges.

For the rest of the shift, I kept my responses to Tim short and curt.

If he asked for status updates, I gave him the bare minimum.

If he cracked a joke to try and lighten the mood, I didn’t even spare him a glance.

It was petty, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I could feel his frustration growing with every brush-off.

The way his jaw clenched or the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when I avoided meeting his gaze only confirmed it.

By mid-afternoon, he stopped trying altogether, the usual back-and-forth banter between us replaced by strained silence.

Finally, during a rare quiet moment back in the car, Tim broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“You going to keep this up all day?”

I didn’t look at him, instead staring out the windshield at the street ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said flatly.

“Are you going to stop being an ass?”

He sighed, long and heavy, the sound of someone grappling with his own frustration.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Have it your way.”

But even as he said it, there was something in his tone that softened the edges of my anger.

I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, catching the faintest flicker of hurt in his expression.

It wasn’t like Tim to let things fester, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.

Still, my own stubbornness held firm, and I looked away before he could catch me staring.

The silence between us stretched on, heavier now than it had been before.

The next day arrived, and the tension between Tim and me hadn’t eased.

With us both being too stubborn to give in.

We were back at the station for our next shift, with the two of us still clearly not on speaking terms.

The air was thick with unspoken words as we went through the motions of starting our day.

Tim was focused, doing his job with the usual precision, but the distance between us was palpable.

Angela and Lucy exchanged looks as they watched the two of us, sensing that something was off.

“So,” Angela started, leaning against the counter with her coffee cup,

“what’s going on with you two? You guys usually can’t keep your hands off each other, and today—”

She gestured between us, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Nothing?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tim and me.

“You two seriously not talking?”

I glanced at Tim briefly, but his attention was fixed on the paperwork in front of him.

I sighed inwardly, turning to face my friends.

“It’s just... a disagreement,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Angela looked unconvinced.

“A disagreement? You’ve barely looked at each other all morning. Come on, you can tell us. What happened?”

I didn’t know how to explain it.

The argument from yesterday still felt fresh, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging it off. “We’ll work through it.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced either, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right, because it’s so obvious you two are just fine.”

I forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Now, we’ve got work to do, right?”

Tim didn’t seem to notice our conversation, too absorbed in whatever report he was reading.

I glanced at him again, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to say something, but the other part was still too angry to make the first move.

The next few hours felt like a blur of cases and calls, my mind distracted by the unspoken words lingering between us.

At least I was scheduled to go on patrol with a rookie today, which meant I’d be away from Tim for a while.

The rookie, Aaron, seemed eager enough, though I could tell he was still finding his footing.

I was relieved, in a way, I didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of being in the same shop as Tim while we were still this... distant.

Late in the shift, the radio crackled to life, breaking the silence.

“Units 23 and 45, we have a report of a suspected robbery crew holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Multiple units responding. Proceed with caution.”

I immediately grabbed my gear, my heart rate spiking slightly.

This was serious.

Aaron, looked at me, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“You ready, Officer?”

I gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just follow my lead.”

The ride over was quick, the weight of the situation settling in as we pulled up to the scene.

The warehouse loomed in front of us, abandoned and desolate, like something out of a movie.

Officers were already moving into tactical formations, their expressions tense as they communicated through earpieces.

My stomach tightened as we got out of the car, the sound of officers shouting commands echoing through the air.

We were assigned to clear the second floor of the building.

I glanced up at the stairs, the darkened interior of the warehouse giving off an eerie vibe.

My instincts kicked in, but I pushed the thoughts aside, there was work to do.

Aaron and I moved cautiously up the stairs, checking our corners as we went.

The silence was deafening, the only sound our footsteps on the dusty floor.

It was too quiet.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I motioned for Aaron to take the left side while I covered the right.

We moved slowly, staying low to the ground.

My hand hovered near the grip of my weapon, but something felt... off.

And then, a single gunshot shattered the silence.

The sound was deafening, ringing in my ears, and before I could react, pain exploded in my side.

I gasped, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground.

My breath hitched as I tried to focus, feeling the warmth of blood soaking through my uniform.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay conscious. “Aaron…”

My voice was shaky, but I could still hear the panic in his voice as he called for backup.

But all I could focus on was the searing pain in my side and the growing sense of fear that gripped me.

At that moment my mind went blank and the last thing I could think about was... Tim

Meanwhile,

Tim was still at the precinct, sitting at his desk, his mind occupied with the usual paperwork and the hum of the station around him.

It was a rare quiet moment, one of those in-between times when the calls had slowed down, and officers were catching their breath.

He barely noticed the radio crackle to life at first.

But then, a voice came through, sharp and urgent:

"Officer down. Requesting medical assistance."

His stomach dropped.

A cold wave of dread swept over him, his breath catching in his throat.

The world around him seemed to slow as he stared at the radio.

He was trained for these moments, for the harsh reality that could hit at any moment.

But this? This felt different.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he looked around the bullpen. His heart was racing.

The words replayed in his head. Officer down.

The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing who hit him like a freight train.

But he had a feeling who it was, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting like this right?

"Who is it?" Tim's voice was low but desperate, laced with an emotion he wasn’t willing to admit.

The other officers in the room exchanged glances, but no one had an answer.

The station seemed to be holding its breath as everyone waited for more information.

Tim didn’t wait.

His eyes locked on his phone as it began to ring, the screen lighting up with a name he’d never wanted to see in this context: Grey.

His heart pounded harder, a sickening sense of dread seizing him.

He grabbed the phone with shaking hands, swiping it to answer.

"Grey," he said, his voice tight, barely holding it together.

There was a pause on the other end. A heavy silence.

Then, Captain Grey’s voice came through, thick with an emotion Tim couldn’t place.

“It’s Y/L/N, Tim,” Grey said, his tone grim.

“She’s been shot. They’re taking her to St. Joseph’s.”

Tim froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/n has been hit. He couldn’t breathe.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one a blur of terror and disbelief.

His hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep it together.

“Tim…” Grey’s voice softened, as if he could sense the storm raging inside him.

“Get to the hospital. They’ll need you there.”

Tim didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

He just slammed the phone down, his body already in motion, his heart racing like it might beat out of his chest.

The sound of his boots pounding against the floor was deafening in the silence of the station.

He didn’t think. He didn’t ask questions.

His mind was consumed by one thought, one single, unrelenting impulse: Get to you.

He grabbed his keys off the counter, his fingers fumbling as he rushed to the door.

He didn’t stop to grab his jacket, didn’t hesitate for a second.

His eyes were wild with panic, his breath shallow as he sprinted out of the station.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Every second that ticked by felt like a hundred years.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it was painful.

The sirens of other emergency vehicles echoed in the distance, but they only made the dread in his chest grow deeper.

What had happened? Were you okay?

His mind raced with questions, but every time he tried to focus on the answers, the fear crept back in.

He couldn’t let himself go there, not yet.

He didn't even get to apologize, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.

The hospital loomed ahead, its lights flashing in the early evening dusk.

Tim didn’t slow down as he pulled into the parking lot, his car screeching to a halt.

He was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop, barely registering the cold night air as he rushed inside.

His heart was pounding in his ears, the noise around him a blur as he darted through the hospital’s hallways.

He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to her.

Finally, he reached the ER. The doors swung open, and he froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he scanned the room.

Nurses and doctors moved quickly, their expressions grim as they passed by.

"Sir," a voice called from behind him, and he turned to find one of the paramedics who had been at the scene and knew about Tim's arrival.

“She’s in surgery.”

Tim’s breath hitched, and he felt his knees go weak. Surgery.

The word felt like a punch to the gut.

“Is she…” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t want to hear the answer.

The paramedic’s eyes softened, but there was no comfort in them.

“We don't know yet, the bullet went deep making it a dangerous operation. They’re doing everything they can.”

He was out of breath, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

He couldn’t shake the image of you he created in his brain, lying on the floor of that warehouse, the pain in your eyes, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there to protect you.

He walked over to the waiting area, collapsing into a chair, his head in his hands.

His body felt like it was made of stone, but his mind was all fire, anger, guilt, fear, tearing him apart.

All he could do was wait. And pray.

Tim sat in the sterile, quiet hospital room, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand, his eyes fixed on your face.

The soft beeping of the machines monitoring your vitals was the only sound that filled the space, but even that felt too loud, a reminder of the fragile thread that you were hanging on.

Tim had barely been able to breathe since he’d received the call about you.

The news had come like a punch to the gut,

'Officer down.'

It was all a blur after that, the frantic rush to St. Joseph’s, the sterile scent of the emergency room, the doctors giving him no guarantees.

They weren't sure you’d make it through.

Those words had haunted him, repeating in his mind over and over, and no matter how many times he told himself you were a fighter, the fear never quite went away.

He never told you that he loved you properly that morning, never had a chance to make it right.

The argument from the day before still felt raw, and the thought of not getting the chance to apologize tore at his heart like nothing else could.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Tim whispered softly, his voice barely audible.

“I should’ve told you I loved you before. I should’ve… I should’ve been better. I’m so sorry.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, as if his touch could bring you back to him.

Your hand felt warm in his, but the stillness of your body only made him feel more hopeless.

What if he’d never get the chance to make it right?

What if this was the last time he’d hold your hand, the last time he’d be able to tell you how much you meant to him?

Angela and Lucy arrived not long after, their faces a mix of concern and support as they entered the room.

Tim hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked away from you.

Lucy tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes to get him to smile, but it felt impossible.

How could he laugh when you were lying there, so close to slipping away?

She offered him a drink, trying to give him space to breathe, and as soon as she left to go down the hall, Angela stayed behind, sitting beside him in the chair.

“You know, you don’t have to do this alone,”

Angela said, her voice soft but firm, as if trying to remind him he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything by himself.

“You’ve got people who care about you.”

Tim swallowed hard, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The guilt was suffocating, and the uncertainty of what would happen to you next made his chest ache.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her, not after everything. The last words we said to each other… they weren’t even good ones. We fought. I fought with her, and now… now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make it right. What if she… what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Angela reached over, gently placing a hand on his arm, her eyes full of empathy.

“Tim, she knows. She knows you love her. She knows you’d never want to hurt her.”

“I should’ve told her that,” Tim muttered, looking down at his hands, his voice thick with regret.

“I should’ve told her before. She deserves to hear that from me, not after everything's already gone wrong. What if... What if she doesn’t know how much she means to me?”

Angela squeezed his arm in reassurance.

“She does, Tim. You just have to believe that. And when she wakes up, you can tell her then. You’ve still got time to make it right.”

“I just wish I’d made more time… before all this happened,”

Tim whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

As the hours dragged on, Lucy came back with a drink, and the two women left, sensing that Tim needed some space.

They both exchanged a concerned glance before making their exit, but their presence, their words of support, had offered Tim a little comfort.

Still, as the door closed behind them, he was left alone in the room again with you.

His heart beat painfully in his chest, and the room felt colder now that the comforting voices of his friends were gone.

He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours as if he could keep you anchored in this world with his touch.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Your fingers twitched, and Tim's heart skipped a beat. His gaze snapped to you, not daring to blink, as he saw your eyelids flutter.

For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but then you blinked again, and this time, your eyes fluttered open, groggy but focused.

Tim didn’t know what to do first. He could barely breathe as he leaned closer, his hands shaking.

“Y/n?” His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His hand moved to your cheek, gently caressing it as if to make sure you were real, that this wasn’t some dream he was having.

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Your eyes met his, blurry at first, but then clearer as you seemed to recognize him.

A small, weak smile spread across your face, and Tim felt the tight knot in his chest slowly start to loosen.

“Tim?” you whispered, your voice soft, hoarse from the intubation, but still full of recognition.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed out, his voice thick with emotion.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tim called for the doctor immediately, unable to tear himself away from your side.

His heart raced as he watched you, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.

What if you didn’t make it through this?

What if you slipped away again before they could get to you?

But then the doctor arrived, checking your vitals, and gave them the good news.

You were stable. You had pulled through.

“You’re going to be okay,” the doctor said.

“You’ll need to stay here for a few days, but you’re out of the woods.”

Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t felt since the moment you were shot.

You were here.

You were with him.

I let out a small chuckle, despite the pain, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thought I was in heaven when I opened my eyes and saw all these lights.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, his hand tightening around yours.

“Please never scare me like that ever again." He said now much more seriously, before speaking up again.

"I’m so, so sorry, babe. For the argument, for the way I talked to you, for everything.”

My smile faltered, my eyes full of vulnerability.

I reached out with my free hand, gently cupping his face.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve let us get so angry. I love you, Tim. I just… I just want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Tim replied, his voice shaky.

“I love you more than anything. And I promise, I’ll never let something like that happen again. I won’t take you for granted. I’ll fight for us, always.”

My voice cracked as I spoke again, tears spilling from my eyes.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Tim. I don’t ever want us to be apart again.”

Tim kissed my hand, his lips brushing over my knuckles, the tears still flowing freely from both of us.

“I swear, babe, I’ll make it right. I’ll spend every moment from here on out showing you how much I love you.”

“No more fights. No more leaving things unsaid. Let’s never do that again.”

Tim smiled, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered the words that had been stuck in his heart all along.

“No more fights. I promise. We’re in this together."

"Always.”

In that moment, everything felt right again.

I was alive. I was here, with Tim.

And nothing, no matter what, would ever break us apart again.

The end

[grimsonandclover]

"Arthur, my dear... show me this head."

Eyes blue as the water they sail over look down at the wrapped stone head in his hands. They're all waiting, expecting. Spartaco's own eyes narrow and he can almost feel them on him. Is there anything of value between those hands of his? Has his gift proven itself?

No.

When it's unwrapped, all eyes are on him. On her. her. The stone is smooth under his calloused fingers. Tracing the shape of her face and the slope of her chiseled nose. It pokes at something in the back of his mind, tugging at a memory he wishes he could forget. That red string is still there. They're waiting for him. For her.

"There, you've seen her." He can hear Spirro behind him. Arthur knows his friend will never forgive him.

This... it's not a gift. Not so much a curse as it is a burden. The head is heavier in his hands because of it.

Not made for human eyes. It's all Arthur can think about. All he can think, all he can hear, all he can feel. Not made for human eyes. Not made for them. It's inestimable. It's her. It's her. It's her. It's washing over him like the waves on the coastline. Drowning him. With every inhale it fills his lungs, swimming through to his veins. It's her.

Fuck, it's her.

Arthur almost utters the name. It's on the tip of his tongue and he has to choke it back down. They're waiting. They're watching. It's her. It's everything. His love. He's holding his heart, his entirety. She called to him and Arthur answered, felt her pull him to her tomb.

Inestimable. A roomful of people want to put a price on her. They all want her. Her fortune, her value. What fucking nonsense. She's inestimable, invaluable. Maybe it is a curse. A curse he deserves. A curse he wants. If Arthur didn't have it, he would've never found her. It makes him smile.

Their gaze circles him like vultures waiting for new flesh. Like wild animals, and he'd be disgusted by it if he wasn't so familiar with it.

Finding her was finding love again, and they search for value in it. Can you put a price on love? She is inestimable, she is her, she is love, she is everything. All encompassing, all entrancing.

He doesn't deserve her, and least of all do they. The vultures. The animals. Not a soul on that boat does, not anyone in this world. She belongs to the world though it does not deserve her. He can hear the waves. How lucky they will be.

That's perhaps why she left. Ephemeral, a dream to wake up from and long for. It's time to close his eyes and sleep again, and finally see. It's time to free her, give her back to the world, and let it swallow her whole before the vultures do. It's time for Arthur to finally do the right thing.

"You're not made for human eyes."

[14dayswithyou]

If Leon is such a kind man, why did he break up with his ex?

From your old hints, if his type is y/n (I'm just guessing), then his ex-girlfriend is similar to y/n?

How many children does Leon want to have?

(If he slaps a child's butt to put him to sleep, I'll slap him to tease him too.)

Also, I want to comment on the AU of Yandere Leon. I think he's more dangerous than Ren because Ren is able to understand and let Y/n have her own social circle of friends and coworkers (only if Ren receives love), but Yandere Leon will eliminate those around Y/n for the sole reason of preventing others from receiving Y/n's love and kindness to the point of developing a romantic relationship.

⌞♥⌝ Making these quick lil dotpoints!! I hope that's ok ^^

Leon likely broke up with his partners for normal reasons, such as wanting to focus on himself first, not wanting to live abroad with them for the rest of his life, not sharing many common interests, finding out that they were better off as friends, etc. He's also pansexual, so I wouldn't limit all of Leon's partners to just women!! /nm

He'd want a biiiiig happy family, so having/adopting a bunch of kids would honestly bring him joy. Leon would also never hit a child under any circumstance, even if it was to scold them.

He would probably be one of the tamer yanderes, in my opinion!! Leon has strong, platonic feelings and would likely be a very stereotypical yandere, so he'd probably only kill someone if he deems them a threat — not because they show romantic interest in Angel. Leon would also be fine with Angel dating others, but if they break Angel's heart, he'll kill them <3