#just. gonna pretend everything is still okay...... he's always here with us............
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bluem1lls · 2 days ago
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i need part 2 of se-mi with comphet reader 😭
✧₊⁺ speak now (or don't, and love forever in silence)
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groom bff! se-mi x comphet! reader
synopsis: after years of waiting, he finally propose. wasn't this everything you wished for?
but you couldn't bring yourself to be happy.
was it maybe because when you thought about it, all you could picture was her face?
content: some angst, but finally fluff!!!!
authors note: im so sorry for the looooong ass late updates, im so so busy but im ab to go on break so everyone cheered!!! im back i promise:( im so excited for this part 2 i actually love it and i hope u do too!!!!
part one. part two (you're here!)
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famous actress finally engaged with the famous choi su-bong, more known as 'thanos', old rapper surging back!
we all saw on Instagram the romantic proposal he prepped for her, and of course like every girl would, she said yes!
we are so happy for the married couple!
"fucking bullshit" se-mi threw her phone away with rage after reading the most liked post from the magazine's instagram.
her hands went to her face as she groaned, biting back her lip to keep the tears away.
poor dumb girl. she actually thought you were coming back to her...
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"the way he proposed was so romantic, i'm glad he did it that way, it was what you always wanted ever since you were a kid" my best friend jun-hee took my hands between hers with a comforting smile. i smiled softly as i sighed.
"y-yeah. it was.." i whispered. she stares into my eyes, squeezing my hands. her expression fell, now filled with pity. she knew me more than anyone.
"you do know that you're supposed to be happy about getting married right?" she says with a lifted eyebrow as i pressed my lips.
"i am." i said, trying to convince myself.
"honey-" she murmurs as i cut her.
"i have to be." i said, turning to face myself in the mirror. streightening my skirt as i faked my best smile.
and it was true. everything was exactly how i always wanted it.
so.. why didn't it felt like it?
i heard a knock that snapped me out of my thoughts. we both turned as the door opened. "excuse me, just wanted to let you know the invitations have been sent" a girl said with a smile as i nodded, thanking her.
once she left, jun-hee stared at me. "did you sent one for.." my best friend said, stopping herself as i shuddered.
"yeah. of course. they're best friends." refering to my husband and se-mi. i put a smile to pretend i didn't cared. or at least i tried, although it didn't even reached my eyes.
if your own best friend stares at you with pity, you start to consider maybe you're not doing as well as you thought.
but i couldn't back up. not now. not ever.
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"this belongs in the trash" se-mi says with a sarcastic smirk, grabbing the invitation only to crumble it with anger as min-su stops her.
"we can't just.. not go" he says to her as she stares at him, incredulous.
"do you want me to go to that fucking wedding? for what?" she spits with anger and disbelief, her voice getting louder as he sighs. he got used to seeing his best friend angered ever since the news came out.
"listen, i get it, okay? but it's our best friend's wedding. we can't just miss it" min-su says in a soft tone, trying to make her understand.
"i refuse to watch her get married." her cold voice snaps. "fuck this." she says with a groan, frustration all over her face.
"you need to move on! you know those two! yeah they hate eachother, but they're not breaking up sem. they're getting married, and probably everything that goes after that. are you just gonna avoid thanos until you die?" he says snapping as she furrows her brow, a small pout on her pierced lips without her even noticing it.
"there's nothing to move on, there was never anything between me and her right?" she says with a sigh. "i'm still not going. i fucking hate weddings" she says under her breath, going to her room to avoid the conversation. and something about that doesn't feel true, because she loves to think about you on a wedding dress. but not if it's not with.. she shakes her head to remove the thought, slamming the door. min-su sighs, his hands on his face, exhausted.
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"oh god" jun-hee says with tears on her face, her eyes twinkle in awe as i laugh, a little teary.
the dress looks.. perfect. just like in my childhood dream. my perfect dream wedding.
"it was made for you" she says as i chuckle, giving a little spin for her.
i should be so happy...
"yeah.. i think we're done" i say to the girl from the store, who's standing on my side, staring at me with a soft smile. "this is it. this is the one."
i slowly head back to the changing room to remove the dress. i place back my clothes while my assistant goes to pay. i stare at myself in the mirror.
why am i not happy? why doesn't it feel like i'm getting married?
i sigh as i leave the store with my two companions.
"let's grab some coffee, it's right around the corner and im dying for some caffeine." jun-hee says as i nod.
i feel my phone buzzing on my pockets.
oh god, of course. he's always fucking forgetting about the wedding or where i am. god why am i marrying this-
my breath hitches as i grab my phone, reading the text.
this can't be happening.
not now.
oh god.
sem: a wedding?
sem: really?
of course it's her.
of course she texts me out of nowhere a fucking random tuesday at 3 pm.
of course she makes my heart beat on my chest like no one ever did. just for a fucking text.
i scoff in disbelief as my manicured nails type with anger.
me: for real?
me: this is what you're texting me?
me: after not hearing about you for fucking YEARS??????
i see the little bubble that indicates she's typing back. the fact that she hasn't left the chat since she texted me makes me bite my lip.
sem: i've seen the photos
sem: you know
sem: you dont look like someone whos excited to get married
i roll my eyes as i let out a shaky breath, she hit a nerve.
me: what do you know? you havent talked to me in years, maybe things changed.
sem: everything did.
sem: except this.
sem: why do you keep lying to yourself?
i place my phone back in my pocket with shaky hands, leaving her on seen. i place my head on my hands as i groan.
why did she had appear out of nowhere?
i was fine without.. knowing about her.
without thinking about her. without her smile. without knowing if she's seeing someone..
i was okay without her. yeah. i was perfect.
god i really need that coffee.
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as i get home i watch my... fiance laying on the couch.
"did you even tried the cake samples i left?" i said with frustration as i leave my purse.
"uh, nam-gyu did, he said the black tea one was really good" he said without too much care as i stared at him disbelief.
"am i getting married to nam-gyu? because i needed MY husband to try them!" i say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips as he rolled his eyes.
"who the fuck cares about the cake baby? no one does" he says, his arms sneaking around my waist to bring me closer to him.
"i care! i am going to be the wife in this fucking wedding and i care about the cake!" i shout angry. "and don't touch me" i let myself loose of his grip as he groans in built frustration.
"seriously? this again?" he says with a sigh, letting go.
"after the wedding" i say to him as my heart sinks. liar.
"about time" he rolls his eyes, his focus on the phone once again.
i stare at him blinking in disbelief.
this is my life?
am i gonna marry.. this idiot?
i go upstairs as i remove my outside clothes, placing on my pjs. i slowly let myself sink in bed as i grab my phone, my hands trembling as i bite my lip.
was this a good idea? no.
clearly not.
but god, i couldn't stop thinking about her.
me: are you coming?
me: to the wedding
me: i sent you an invitation
it takes her two minutes to reply.
sem: no.
oh. i chew on my bottom lip thinking about what to reply, until she texts back a few minutes later.
sem: why?
do i? do i wanna get marry, knowing she's there, staring at me?
the question is.. will i get married, knowing she's there, sitting on the crowd, watching me?
me: i want you there
the texting bubbles appear and disappear for over 10 minutes, making me extremely anxious as i wait for her reply.
sem: okay
okay what? okay that i want her there although i shouldn't? okay that-
sem: i'll see you there.
sem: consider this as my confirmation to the wedding.
i throw my phone away with shaky hands. my head sinks on my pillow, muffling my scream.
god, what have i done?
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finally, today is the day.
today, i'm getting married.
the happiest day in my life. that's what everyone is saying.
so why i've been crying non stop until falling asleep?
i stared at myself, sat in front of my mirror. my makeup perfectly done, my hair loose in soft waves, the dress made just for me. it had to be like this, because this was what everyone expected from me.
i sighed as i stood up, leaving the room to go wait on the door for my entrance. i could hear the bells ringing, the wedding music. my dad appears, walking slowly until he was standing besides with a smile.
"i'm proud of you" he said, staring at front as i did too, my eyes teary. but it wasn't happiness, it was...
"everything is like it's supposed to be" i said, streightening myself. my head turned to stare at him. "am i finally the perfect daughter?" i asked my dad, my voice trembling with emotion.
he gave me a confused stare, a hint of what it looked like sadness, creeping into his stare. "it's not the wedding, it's clearly not the husband" he said as we both softly chuckled. "it's you.. you're my daughter. and i don't need you to be perfect, you being you it's all i want. your happiness. honey, nothing else matters after that." he said as i holded my tears. i bit the inside of my cheek, my heart pounding on my chest.
it's too late now, isn't it?
i could feel him interlock our arms as the doors opened. we moved one step at a time as we slowly entered the ceremony. to my wedding.
i shudder at the sight of everyone in the room, but i knew my eyes were only scanning to look for one person.
and when i found her, and my heart stopped.
she was watching me with a soft gaze, eyes almost twinkling as she roamed through my form, slowly taking my face, my body in the dress, and lastly, going up to meet my eyes. all i needed to make my heart flutter. i felt frozen in place, i could see everyone staring at me, wondering why i wasn't moving. my dad pulled my arm to get me out of my trance, but nothing worked.
i was there, stucked right where she left me.
on the last time i saw her. the last time my heart beated for her.
"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy.. with me.. i'll be waiting. i promise"
she was just as beautiful as i remembered her. of course i've seen pictures of her, but nothing like seeing her in person again.
our stare never breaking.
her eyes screamed 'please, love me'
and mine replied 'i do. but i shouldn't'
"are you okay?" my dad said, breaking the staring contest as i took reality of my surroundings. i shakily let out a small breath as i nodded with a fake smile. i kept walking to the altar, where i saw my... future husband.
right.
as i took my place, he took my hands in between his.
i trembled, and i swear i wanted to hear whatever the priest was saying. i really did.
but all my focus was on her.
was everyone blind for not noticing? or was everyone trying to pretend they couldn't tell how i stared at my husband's best friend?
when our eyes met again, i averted my gaze, trying really hard to pay attention to the priest talking on the altar to me and my future husband.
but god, i could not focus when she was here.
until i heard the priest coming to the end of his speech.
"if anyone has just cause to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace"
silence spreaded on the ceremony.
the quietness in the room making me shiver.
until it wasn't quiet anymore.
because everyone gasped.
and my eyes shut close.
and the quietness was replaced with whispers, with judging stares.
it wasn't quiet anymore, because she stood up.
my heart felt like it stopped in place. i could see my fiance's eyes widen, staring at se-mi like she was mad, insane.
but i knew she wasn't.
she was just in love, like i was.
and god, not from my husband.
her tall figure stood in the public, standing up as her mouth agaped like a fish. she tried to find any words to say, but she couldn't.
min-su and nam-gyu besides her, staring like if she grew a second head, completely shocked.
my eyes widen as i saw her take a sit again.
her mind was conflicted. i could tell. does she oppose? does she love quietly? what was more important? her best friend or her feelings? she shifted uncomfortably on her chair.
what was done was done, right?
fuck it. she thought, standing up once again.
everyone stared, their eyes open like never before.
"i-i oppose" she says in a weak, trembling voice. her eyes find mine, her stare pleads me to not let this keep going.
it begs me to go with her.
her hand moves to try and reach me as i watch her trembling hand and her pleading expression.
"i love you." she says with tears on her eyes.
and of course i knew this couldn't happen. of course i knew this was madness. i was about to get married. my life was buildt for this specific moment.
but my heart responded first with a sigh. not tears, not a scream, not a mad reply.
a sigh of relief.
i stare at the people sitting shocked in their seats. their gazes gravitating from her, to me and choi su-bong.
and suddenly, it's not like before. i'm not frozen in place, i'm not scared. i don't feel ashamed, i don't feel a thing.
except relief and love.
my last sign? when i stare at my parents, and they dont look at me ashamed. they're not embarrassed. they nod at me with tears in their eyes, intertwining their hands.
i get off the altar as i laugh.
a laugh of happiness. i chuckle loud and the feeling takes my entire body as i walk to her slowly. our stare never breaking as i stand in front of her, in my beautiful white dress. i reach to take her hand, the contact leaves a warm feeling on my heart.
"can we go?" are the only words that leave my lips with a shaky breath.
she stares at me, letting out an airy soft chuckle in disbelief, not believing this is happening.
"fuck, yes." is all she mutters as she moves in between the people, intertwining our hands like she never plans to release me as we run to the exit, our hearts jump in our chest.
and this is insane. i know it when we get into her rusty old car while the people gather outside to stare at us. but it doesn't matter.
it doesn't matter when my dress ruffles through the window, it doesn't matter when i buckle my seat belt with a happy smile and it certainly doesn't matter when she actually starts driving and we laugh, like a whole hearted laugh.
"you left your husband. in the altar. you left him" she says chuckling, filled with emotions. shock, disbelief, happiness.
"i- i did. and i don't regret it. god i don't regret leaving him for his.. best friend" i laugh as i stare at her. i take a deep breath as i speak "stop the car" she stops so abruptly, the car brakes.
"are you regr-" i unbuckle my seat belt as i turn aside. i cup her face in between my hands, my eyes roaming across her entire features.
this is the woman i love. it feels so good to finally say it out loud.
and i kiss her.
and is everything i always wanted to feel. it's what i expected from every single one of my ex-boyfriends. is filled with hunger, desire, passion and love.
and my heart feels warm and i know now exactly what love was supposed to feel like.
the kiss lowers to something softer, one of her hands goes to my cheek, caressing it with her thumb as my hand moves to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. her other hand roams through my body to grip my waist.
"this feels like a dream" she mumbles in between kisses.
"i know, i know" i replied as i kissed her again and again, love-drunk. "but it's not. i'm yours se-mi. i'm completely yours" i whispered against her lips as she nodded excited. her nose softly caressing mine, an intimate gesture.
"can i start the car and get the fuck out of here, please? because i never want to look back" she says breaking the kiss. i nod happily.
"please, start the fucking car" i chuckle as i go back to my seat, connecting to the bluetooth of her car, i look at the playlist on my phone until i find the one.
"i am not the kind of girl
who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion
but you are not the kind of boy
who should be marrying the wrong girl"
she smacks me softly as she listens to the lyrics, rolling her eyes as i snort.
and as my eyes find hers, i know i finally am where i belong.
known actress leaves husband on the altar!
we saw our famous girl, that we all know and love, leaving rapper ''thanos' on the altar.
the last thing we heard from him to the press was: i hope she's happy now.
and she looks like it! because she's been sharing photos on social media with her new girl non stop!
let's wish a happy relationship to the recently out of the closet actress!
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tchtokyo · 3 days ago
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Gaz angst bc I feel like it (part 1???)
Kyle realized that he was the background character, the one that everyone forgot until he offered his services. It's even more crushing knowing that he was in a relationship with the others 3 members of the 141.
He realized that after a new sergeant became a permanent stay. He was everything Kyle was but better. He matched energy with Soap, handled Ghost with care and Price saw him as an equal. Those were Kyle's jobs, but when someone better comes along, he gave up. He started to hide, spend time by himself, wishing that one of them would come and ask him if everything was okay. But when Kyle wasn't offering himself to them, he was forgotten.
The true breaking point was when Alex called for their weekly talk and Kyle just broke down.
"I can't do this anymore." Between sobs, hiccups and lack of breathing, Kyle was able to say what happened, how he felt. Alex understood, tried to calm him down through the phone and suggested a solution.
"Come here, I will tell Farah, she will request you temporarily."
Alex was furious but also not surprised, because he knew Kyle was going to have a hard time fitting with 3 men that already each other on different levels. Kyle was a new addition, Kyle was a regular soldier that happened to be good what he did, Kyle didn't have anything besides his skills to standout and bond with this men, men that were excellent at what they did, men that knew intimate parts of each other from the very beginning, men that bond over past happenings. Kyle didn't had those, his only set back his fragile mind and his even fragile heart. Alex warned Kyle that he was entering a new world that did not connected with him, but Kyle accepted the challenge. And this was the result, a Kyle, someone who did his best to hide his fragile mind and heart, broken by love, because he still loved them, Kyle said he cannot not love them, he just needed to find himself.
"Farah requested you for her forces." Price said, handing him a paper for him to sign that he conceded to go "says the time is indefinite, she will send u back when she deems fit."
Maybe Kyle should had waited a minute, pretending to ponder or to ask time to think, but no, he grabbed the pen, said nothing and sign.
"Are u sure? U gonna be apart from us"
"I'm sure." Again Kyle should had seen less eager, but he couldn't.
"O-okay"
"Can i go? I have to pack" Kyle asked, again, hurriedly, really not caring anymore, now knowing that he was going to be with the two people that always put him back together.
Price blinked once and twice, stunned confused and hurt, but he stuttered out a yes and watched the sergeant leave "we will miss you." He said lastly, as Kyle was at the door.
The last words he received from his sergeant, the person he loved, hurt him in ways he couldn't think of.
"I don't think so Captain." And Kyle left. Closing the door in that soft way he always does.
Price stood up, ready to follow Kyle and ask what did he meant? What they done to evoke something like that? What can he do to fix it? But then his phone rang, and he was about to ignore it when he saw Farahs name light up.
"Yes?"
"Did Kyle sign the paper?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna send it later, I just-"
"You had your chance John, send the papers now please."
"What do you-"
"Let him come here, send the papers now, Captain."
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goldentigerfestival · 11 months ago
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god i just. the sheer fucking hurt in his voice. feeling so used. so untrusted. had a bounty on his head that wasn't even his fault and he still won't be told him the truth and estelle, too, still hides things from him after he helped her and they'd been traveling together. not only that, but the empire is too busy having its own internal issues to pay attention to its own suffering people.
i hate seeing him so upset, that's my baby boy.
more feelings in the tags
#GTF Vesperia Clips#and like. I don't blame him. regardless of if they became friends along the way she DID kinda use him#and yet still after even realizing it was her fault he had a bounty on his head didn't tell him the truth#and even now won't tell him the truth. like. even after he saved the PRINCE#nobody will tell him the truth/what's going on. he always pretends not to care abt that stuff#like in Heliord when he says smth similar but here you can rly tell it DOES bother him that#he does all this for them and and knows as much as he does but nobody will tell him a thing#and rly I think Ioder realized that and I think this scene with his voice clearly expressing hurt rly helped that#bc when they DO get to Heliord Ioder understands he already knows enough anyway to tell him things#but this scene I think rly does express that Yuri absolutely cares how he's treated/how ppl see him#bc I think in this scene he feels like after everything he's just /some guy/ and ofc that would hurt#technically Flynn can't say anything without their go ahead but I think the fact that he also#doesn't try to convince them to trust Yuri in this case also added to the hurt#bc at this point how ''public'' is he? how much of a ''regular civilian'' is he to them?#it's like. just. not being trusted by anyone despite proving himself to be trustworthy#I do feel like Ioder in Heliord was kind of the reason this wasn't brought up again#bc he did seem to come to the conclusion after seeing this that yeah Yuri's not just some guy to them#if he'd ONLY saved Ioder that'd be one thing but he'd been keeping Estelle safe and he's Flynn's best friend#and Yuri is completely right to be hurt here bc there's no reason not to just /tell/ him#they know he's not gonna do anything with the information or get involved and try to manipulate anything#LISTEN IT JUST. makes me so sad to see him feeling so betrayed by literally all three of them in this moment#I mean I kinda get Ioder not saying anything right away bc he prob needed to be more briefed on everything#hence why by the time they all were in Heliord it's like okay well yeah why are we bothering keeping things from him#but at that time he'd saved the guy's life and he didn't even speak up for Yuri#and I think that hurt too. listen this makes me FEEL things ;_;#ALSO? honestly that must have felt like such whiplash with Flynn going from#being HAPPY things calmed down for Flynn and that he was more relaxed to just#Flynn not speaking up for him when neither candidate will trust him. buddy. my boy is hurtin'...
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yougavememyopia · 2 months ago
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Kidnapper! Yandere (2)
Tags: PT 1. 18+, desperate sub, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit), choking, handjob
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"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."
The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.
"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"
His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.
He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.
"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.
He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.
"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give you. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"
You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.
"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."
He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.
"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"
He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.
"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."
He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.
"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."
You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.
"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"
He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."
"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"
You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.
"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."
His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."
He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."
He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.
"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"
You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."
"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."
You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."
Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.
"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."
You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.
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vaaaaaiolet · 1 month ago
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Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.
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mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓
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a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS
word count: 2.5k // read on ao3
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The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.
Just like now. 
A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”
Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.
“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”
You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”
“Enough?”
“Um…” 
Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”
A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.
“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.
“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.” 
In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.
Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks. 
The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.
Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you. 
“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?” 
You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.
A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.” 
Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.
“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”
“Hm?”
“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”
You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new. 
So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.
“This okay?” he rasps.
More than. 
You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance. 
Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen. 
“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”
You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal. 
“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”
Oh. 
“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”
You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.
“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.” 
He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.
Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”
His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.
“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?” 
Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too. 
“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off. 
Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?” 
No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.
“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs. 
“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.
“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”
The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault. 
“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”
You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him. 
Leon is all too happy to answer. 
One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.
Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls. 
Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”
You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”
“Just enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”
Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again. 
Tunnel vision. 
“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.
All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.
That’s it.
Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”
“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”
You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”
Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first. 
“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”
You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed. 
“How else do you think I know?”
He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.
“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips. 
“Promise?” 
“Promise.” 
“I will.”
And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold. 
It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo. 
Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls. 
Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut. 
You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again. 
Your heart’s never felt more weightless. 
Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop. 
“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.
About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”
“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”
In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.
“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!” 
He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. 
“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”
“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.  
The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”
“You really think so?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”
So you remember your promise. 
You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.
You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.
You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.
Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.
You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.
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psst, find more of my work here!
comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!
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dollishmehrayan · 2 months ago
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# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )
a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)
© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
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DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.
He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).
If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”
Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”
But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)
Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.
JASON TODD ── .✦
At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.
“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”
But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.
“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”
He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.
Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”
Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.
He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”
If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.
Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.
Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”
He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.
“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”
He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.
Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”
You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.
Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.
He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.
BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”
At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.
Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.
When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.
“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.
You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.
He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.
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itneverendshere · 5 months ago
Note
the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”
added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)
death by a thousand cuts - r.c
pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.
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Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.
“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.
Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”
Rafe freezes.
He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.
He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”
“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”
Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.
When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.
“No. I’m not doing this again.” 
“Rafe—”
“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”
Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”
“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”
Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”
“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”
“That’s enough, Rafe.”
But he's not done.
He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”
“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”
Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”
Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”
“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 
“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”
“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”
Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."
Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”
“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”
“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”
Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”
“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 
“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”
All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.
Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.
He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.
The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.
You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.
He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.
So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.
Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 
He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.
Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.
“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”
He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.
“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.
Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”
His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”
Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”
“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”
There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.
Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.
His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.
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You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 
The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.
“Hey,��� Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.
“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”
She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”
You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”
“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”
Your stomach drops. Instantly.
“You’re sure?”
“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”
But you know better.
A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.
And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.
It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 
“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”
You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”
Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.
You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”
But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.
Why didn’t he come to you?
“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.
“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.
“I need to find Rafe.”
Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”
“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”
Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.
And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.
Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.
He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.
Something big. 
Why didn’t he tell you?
The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 
This is worse.
It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.
You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.
He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.
He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.
You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.
You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 
You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.
He looks like a ghost.
Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”
“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”
“W-What?”
“Baby, look at you.”
He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.
“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”
“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.
He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”
“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”
His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”
“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”
“Hey now—"
“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.
“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”
But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”
“Why?” 
 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”
“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.
He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”
It pushes something inside you.
Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 
“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”
“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“E-everyon leaves right?"
He’s never said anything like that to you before.
“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”
You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 
“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”
For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”
Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”
If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.
“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”
Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.
“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”
You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.
You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.
Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.
You left.
He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.
Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.
Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.
At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 
It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.
And then, it hits him all at once. You.
You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.
His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.
Why didn’t he stop you?
Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.
“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”
Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.
Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”
Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.
Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”
The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.
“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”
If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.
He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.
“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”
Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.
But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.
Rafe doesn’t say a word.
He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 
Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.
"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”
Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 
Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 
"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”
Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.
He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.
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It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.
Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.
You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.
And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.
Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.
You miss him. God, you miss him.
Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.
You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.
You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."
That was a week ago.
And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.
Because this can’t possibly end this way. 
He’s the love of your life. 
Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”
“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”
Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”
You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”
 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”
“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”
Your blood turns ice cold.
“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”
“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.
You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….
You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.
Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.
And that’s when you see him.
He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”
“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.
Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”
You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.
“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”
But there’s nothing. Just silence.
His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.
You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.
Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 
After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.
“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”
Lucky. 
The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.
Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.
The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”
You feel like you're going to be sick.
The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.
Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 
“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”
You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”
You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.
You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.
“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 
You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”
You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.
The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.
Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.
After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 
The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.
“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”
You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 
Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.
As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.
What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 
The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.
He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 
“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.
Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”
“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”
He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 
“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”
Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.
“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”
You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”
Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.
“I don’t deserve you.”
You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.
“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”
He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”
You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 
“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.
“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”
“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”
He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.
You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”
“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.
You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”
He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.
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diaryofawhoretbh · 1 month ago
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Hi could u do thanos x preg reader playing the games basically just like 222 n 333 so hear me out.. imagine we befriend 222 :3 n were basically talking ab our pregnancies (however u write it help) and ab baby stuff then topic of baby daddies comes around and 222 mentions that her baby daddy is here n we r like no way ours is too and we decide to meet near bunks w our baby daddies n when thanos n 333 see each other they r like no way and 222 and we have to hold them back from fighting. So we and 222 force them to get along bc 222 and we are close so why shouldnt they be too
love this request so much!!! i hope i did your idea justice 🫡🫡 i tried to write this quickly. pls let me know if this isn't what you wanted.thank you for requesting, enjoyyy!!
NOT proof-read, sorry!!!!
fine line | thanos (choi su-bong)
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the barracks were quiet, save for the soft murmur of other players trying to get some rest. you sat on your bunk, legs stretched out in front of you, feeling the familiar weight of your belly.
jun-hee, player 222, sat next to you, her hand resting on her own swollen stomach. it felt strange, being surrounded by danger and fear, yet finding a kind of peace in talking about the one thing that kept you both going: the babies.
“i can’t believe we’re both pregnant in here,” jun-hee said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i always thought the world would be different by now, but… i guess this is just how life works out, huh?”
you smiled, nodding. “yeah. it’s crazy. but honestly, it’s kinda the only reason i’m still here. these little ones, they’re everything.”
junhee rubbed her belly gently, a soft smile on her lips. “same here. i didn’t expect this kind of life, but it’s like… being a mom now, it’s like i have something bigger to fight for.”
you let out a soft laugh. “i get you. even in a place like this, we’ve still got our kids to think about.”
jun-hee looked over at you, suddenly more playful. “speaking of kids, i’ve got to tell you something. my baby daddy is here too.”
you raised an eyebrow. “wait, really? no way. who?”
junhee’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous grin. “player 333. you know him as myung-gi.”
you blinked, then let out a low whistle. “myung-gi? as in that coinmg guy?”
jun-hee nodded, not even a little ashamed. “yep. crazy, right?”
you let out a laugh, a bit of disbelief in your voice. “wow, that’s... that’s wild.” you leaned back, looking at her with a grin. “your baby daddy is the reason me and my baby daddy are in debt."
junhee’s eyes widened slightly. “i apologise on his behalf... but wait, is your baby daddy here too? no way.”
you nodded, your grin growing bigger. “yep. he is. and… trust me, it’s not who you’d expect.”
jun-hee tilted her head, curious. “who is it, then?”
you leaned in a little, lowering your voice as though sharing a secret. “it’s su-bong...ah sorry thanos.”
jun-hee’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “what? no way. you’re telling me that your baby daddy is thanos?”
you shrugged nonchalantly. “yeah, believe it or not. crazy, huh?”
jun-hee shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh. “this is... way too much. okay, okay, we need to meet by the bunks. i want to see this. you and me, we’ll introduce them to each other.”
you raised an eyebrow, feeling a little hesitant. “you think that’s a good idea? i mean, myung-gi and su-bong don’t exactly… get along.”
jun-hee smirked. “it’s gonna be fine. trust me. they’re both here for the same reason now. i’m sure they can at least pretend to get along. for the sake of us, and our babies.”
you were still nervous, but the excitement was enough to push you forward. “okay, fine. let’s do it.”
the two of you carefully stood up, waddling over toward the area where the men were usually hanging out. you spotted su-bong in the corner, his large frame looming over the other players, while myung-gi was off to the side, doing his own thing.
as you and jun-hee dragged each man to the agreed meeting spot, both men’s eyes immediately flicked toward you. there was a sharp tension in the air as they both realized who the other was. myung-gi’s brow furrowed, and su-bong’s fists clenched at his sides.
jun-hee crossed her arms, giving you a look. “this is gonna be fun.”
you took a deep breath. “fun? more like intense.”
before you could do anything, both men started toward each other, their bodies tense and ready for a fight. su-bong’s deep voice was the first to break the silence.
“you,” he muttered, eyes narrowed. “what are you doing here?”
myung-gi sneered, taking a step closer. “don’t act like you’re in charge here. you think you can just walk around like you own the place?”
jun-hee quickly stepped in between them, arms raised. “hey! no fighting. not now, not here. we’re pregnant, okay? we’re trying to make it out of here alive, and you two are gonna work it out.”
you added, stepping up beside her. “yeah. no more fighting. our kids need us to be smart. we’re in this together.”
the two men stared at each other for a long moment, tension thick in the air. but as the seconds ticked by, something in their eyes softened—just slightly.
jun-hee, ever the mediator, was the first to break the silence. “come on, guys. we’re both in this for the same reason. for our kids. so, no more petty grudges. can you just... act like adults for once?”
you nodded, giving them a pointed look. “we have to work together. for them. our little ones deserve a chance.”
su-bong let out a frustrated sigh but nodded slowly, his fists unclenching. “fine. for the babies.”
myung-gi gave him a long, hard look before exhaling sharply. “yeah, fine. but don’t think this means we’re friends.”
jun-hee raised an eyebrow, her voice light. “we’re not asking for that. just... can we at least get through this without tearing each other apart?”
the two men exchanged a last heated glance before reluctantly stepping back. you and jun-hee gave each other a silent nod of approval.
“alright,” jun-hee said, her tone softening. “that’s a start. we can make this work.”
you smiled, feeling a little lighter now that the tension had eased, even if just for a moment. the road ahead was still long, but maybe, just maybe, with a little teamwork, you could all make it out of here—alive and with your babies.
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bitin-and-barkin · 8 months ago
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Intertwined Fingers
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What would the aftermath of your so called death look like?
Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, he's going a bit insane ngl, implied self harm, dog symbolism, smut, fun fact: Pomade was commonly used as lube in the 1800s, Dom reader, sub Arthur, soft sex (I finally did the soft sex thing), No mentions of your genetalia, you just jerk off Arthur because you wanted to take care of him tonight, sorry probably not what the people were looking for but its fine, weirdly described sex to the point where it's not even porn, just an art piece, more yandere shit in the next part but you can smell the start of it here, overuse of the word Intertwined
READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 2 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 3 here
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That night in the hotel room, Arthur sheepishly asked if he could stay with you for the night.
You, of course, accepted.
After climbing into bed, he couldn't keep his hands off of you.
Well, he usually can't, always clinging to you like a koala bear. But especially not tonight.
Rubbing his hands up and down your chest. Feeling the grooves in your skin. The curves and marks. Wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck.
Making sure all of his touches were gentle, as not to cause you pain.
Feeling your stomach rise and fall as you slept peacefully. Hearing your heartbeat.
Still softly sobbing, keeping it quiet so you could sleep, not daring to let go.
He felt like sinking into you in that moment.
For the first time in ages, Arthur slept peacefully. He could sleep for ages with your hands intertwined with his.
When you tried to get up in the morning, he pretended to be asleep so you'd stay with him for longer. When you tried to get up anyways?
He pretty much begged you to stay with him.
You ended up laying in bed for another hour before you finally were able to leave.
While taking you back to camp you told him about the doctors. How you already went to the one in Valentine, but they could only do so much.
He said he was gonna get a doctor to come here and properly check you out again, as he knew one that owed him some favors.
Worries of discreetness be damned.
Once you had gotten back to camp, people stared at you like they were looking at a ghost.
In fact, Sean fainted when he first saw you. They thought you were dead.
You even looked the part.
Hours had passed and it was sundown. Arthur had brought in a doctor named "Alphonse Renaud." By now, he had been in there for hours, Arthur right by his side.
His hands were soaked in blood, helping the doctor deal with everything they did to you.
The sick fucks had put nails in your legs.
Nails.
Your back was ripped to shreds, with some marks looking even like they came from whips.
They were irritated too, and Dr. Renaud guessed that they had poured whiskey into your wounds.
He was wondering how you managed to let him hold you the night before without wincing and whining out in pain.
Just imagining how much pain you must've been in, when he thought that he needed to hold you?
How much pain you must've been in when he was asking you on the ride back home if you felt okay?
He felt like the worst shit on earth.
Alphonse estimated you'd live a lifetime of numbness and pain on certain, scarred parts.
At least you weren't in pain right now.
You were currently passed out from Morphine after Arthur yelled at Swanson to help alleviate your pain, when he heard you whimper as the doctor worked.
He silently cried into his hands next to your bedside after he heard your shallow breaths.
He was scared. So fucking scared.
A 3 days passed, with Arthur watching your every movement like a hawk. He was around you 24/7. All other priorities just seemed to fade into the background.
You were fading in and out of consciousness. Going through fevers and hot flashes, scaring everybody at camp.
Whenever you were awake, you seemed to be in a trance. Muttering about things that weren't there, unable to recognize anybody. Not even your husband.
Arthur hadn't slept in that time either. Afraid that if he looked away for one second, the O'Driscolls would swoop up and take you away from him again.
He didn't even think of letting Kieran near you, your horse, or the tent you were in.
He got antsy when you got home, gaining an even shorter fuse to match. Doing everything to make the place more comfortable for you. Cleaning your bedsheets, changing your bandages. Gently talking to you about his day and asking about yours while you were asleep, that way if you woke up you wouldn't wake up alone.
Hosea insisted he needed rest. But every single time he went to bed, he couldn't sleep. Wracked with anxiety. Knowing you were just 15 feet away, safe and sound in your tent, yet still wondering where you were.
Wondering where his darling was.
He snuck into your tent later that night and sat down next to you. Coming down here just to make sure you were still breathing.
Watching your chest rise, your breaths were still as shallow as ever.
He had just gotten you back and he was already losing you again.
And with his coddling and touching, he had only made it worse.
He'd give anything to go back to the way things were.
Before you went on that shitty sniping job, god, what in fucking hell made Dutch think that was a good idea?
He'd give up all his things. He'd kill every O'Driscoll known to man. He'd break his own legs. He'd trade places with you. He'd kill himself.
Just for you to be okay.
He reached down, tracing his finger against scars that weren't there before.
He started talking softly to your sleeping body,
Saying how later he'll take you to the city and get you anything you want. He'll take you out dancing, or to the saloon, or to one of those new picture shows if you feel up to it.
How later he'll shoot Colm for what he did. Make his death slow, make him feel every ounce of pain you did. Doubled. He'll make Colm beg for mercy, then leave him to rot to death in some shithole.
How later, if that stupid Tahiti dream ever becomes realized, he'll settle down with you. Have a kid or two if you feel like it. As long as he can raise them with you.
Only you. Nobody but you.
How later, he'll build a mansion for you and you'd never have to be afraid of anyone hurting you ever again.
How he's so sorry that you had to come find him.
That you'd kill him if you died.
He heard the bed creak as he nervously chatted on and on.
Felt your fingers intertwining with his.
He turned to you, smiling.
You had awoken, and reached out to him.
He tucked your hair behind your ear.
There you were.
For the first time in a long time you were coherent. Aware. Unafraid.
And for the first time in a long time, you saw him clearly.
He took your hand and raised it to his lips, gently kissing your bruised knuckles. Asking how you felt as he did.
He looked... tired.
There were scrapes on his palms and hands, deep cutting scars. Going up and along his wrists and forearms.
Now that you think about it, when you first saw him again, his sleeves were rolled down.
He never rolled them down.
There were new gashes on his face. Along his lips and jaw. He was starting to look like John.
His cheeks were gaunt, and he had deep eyebags. As if they've been festering for months.
His hair was longer, a bit tangled too.
You're used to him being so broad, and while he still is, he looks almost underweight.
You took your other hand and reached up to his cheek, gently stroking it.
He leaned into your touch. He looked exhausted.
God, What had happened while you were gone?
He was resting his face on your hand as he held your other.
You gripped his jaw and pulled him close, softly placing a kiss on his lips.
And placing his free hand on yours, he returned it.
Bodies intertwining like a jigsaw puzzle.
He tried to pull away, wanting to give you air, but you pulled him even closer.
God, you were gonna be the death of him.
He pushed his hands under your shirt,
with you hastily undoing his belt.
Whispering to you,
"Darling, you're so pretty it hurts."
Pushing you to the bed,
placing kisses on your scars.
You pulled your hand away and placed them on his jeans, groping him through his pants.
His head whipped back, letting out a shaky moan.
Whimpering something unintelligible.
You were toying with his tits through his shirt.
Biting down, leaving hickeys along his neck.
Continuing to grope his dick, making him sport a tent in his pants.
And just looking into his eyes, and he had the look of a kicked puppy.
Just begging for you to properly touch him.
Unzipping his fly, his dick sprung out. Slapping against his stomach.
No wonder he had that look in his eyes. He'd follow you like a dog, and worship you like god. At least, it looked like he wanted to tonight.
You took his dick in your hand, pumping him up and down. Pressing your forehead against his, telling him to just relax, that you wanted to take care of him. Helping him take his shirt off as he whispered "Are you sure?" Asking you if you felt well enough to do this.
His breath hitching, he fumbled to untie his bandana before resorting to just rip the thing off entirely.
Peeling off his shirt just to feel you more. To touch you, as you pulled him close. Asking him to tell you just how much he missed you as pre-cum seeped out of his dick, slicking your palm.
You pulled forward and gently kissed his collarbone, licking your free hand and playing with his chest as you stroked him at a steady pace.
Biting down on his neck, his flesh soft between your teeth.
Only yours though. Only yours.
He slotted his head into your shoulder, and began to mumble, kissing your neck up and down.
Cradling your head in his palm.
Running his fingers across your bones, licking stripes against healed wounds.
To whimper and to whine, just like he did the day before.
Like a dog doing all the tricks it knew.
Fucking like two instruments playing in tune.
His eyes were glossed over, his hot breath puffing like smoke, and his words weren't making any sense anymore.
The sensual turning the sexual into the unintelligible, just repeating over and over,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
People in camp always talked shit about Arthur, how he was "Van Der Linde's Bitch." His dog, broken in like a wild horse. Obedient, pliable, perfect. But they're giving credit to the wrong man.
It was all you. Only you, Only you.
He arched back on the bed, crying your name as he came. His seed splattering across his stomach, into your hands.
Begging you not to leave him ever again.
Not even once,
Not even once,
Not even once.
Pleasure sparked behind his eyelids like a gunshot.
You hushing him with silent kisses, telling him to quiet down.
Letting him rut and sputter into your hands like putty until he finally came completely undone, and the only noise was his labored breathing, panting.
His hands trailed up your thighs, eager to return the favor. But you gingerly grabbed his palms and brought them up to your lips.
Oh so gently kissing his knuckles, just like he did for you.
His eyes were still red from crying. Months of grief released in a week.
You pulled his face close, kissing him on the cheek.
Pulling him down into bed, slotting your hips in between his.
Sleeping together,
with your hands intertwined.
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Should I keep this story going???
@yyiikes
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envy-of-the-apple · 8 months ago
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Keep Your Head In The Game
Yandere! Victoria Neuman x reader
(Warnings: threats of murder, non con touching/kissing, implied captivity)
Working at the Bureau had been your dream job. 
Vought had ruined so many people’s lives. It felt good to be part of something that stood against that company for those who couldn't. Despite not having powers, even you could be a hero. You'd worked under Victoria Neuman for years. You knew everything about her. 
And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything. 
You’d like to think of him as a friend. You and him had lunch together sometimes. You’d sit and smile as he went on and on about his girlfriend. He was a nice guy. You’d like to think that he and you were close. 
But Hughie broke you.  
Evidence. He’d shown you evidence of what she’d done. So much blood. So much gore. The orphanage, the files. 
“She’s one of them,” he’d whispered right before he fled into the night, “stay away from her. Quit. Please, for your sake, don’t go back to that fucking snake den.” 
And then he was gone. Just like that. 
Work in the Bureau continued as normal. Safe for the rumors of Soldier boy sightings, everything was so…fine, even without him. 
Even Neuman was unphased. 
She still smiled and laughed and told jokes as she surrounded herself with regular humans. She curled her lip when Supes were discussed. You used to love it when she brought Zoe around, but even her daughter you couldn’t even trust to be real. 
Victoria didn’t act like a Supe. 
But Hughie wasn't lying. 
Friday night. The bureau had a party going on tonight. Another Supe had been successfully put away. Those were always a sight, especially considering Gina would get shitfaced. You couldn’t go, feigning illness before you slipped out the night. You couldn’t enjoy yourself, not when you had so much to think about. 
Instead of enjoying the night with coworkers, you found comfort in the hardest liquor in your cabinet. Your one true friend. 
Not Hughie. Not anymore. Hughie left. Or maybe he was killed. Who knows. Who fucking cares. 
There’s a knock on your door. When you ignore it, it comes again louder. You groan, but you pull yourself off the couch eventually. Your neighbor again. You need to have a talk with her about disturbing you at odd hours of the night. 
“You look like you’ve seen better days.”
You can only stare. Victoria tilts her head. 
“Gonna let me in or will I have to stand out here?” 
Against your judgment, the instinct of always listening to your boss kicking in, you open the door. She elegantly steps in, surveying your home. 
She’s wearing that blue suit you’ve always complimented her on. Earlier, you would have admired her professional elegance. Now, it makes her look more inhuman. She looks even more out of place in your shabby apartment, studying your upkeep. 
“Sorry,” you say when you stop gawking, “I…I hadn’t had time to clean up.” 
“Don’t worry about it.” Victoria waves you off. “Just checking in on my favorite employee. How’re you feeling, by the way.” 
“Good.” You quickly reply. “I was just feeling a little under the weather earlier. I hope I didn't worry you." 
"Why wouldn't I be worried?" She tilts her head, grinning with straight white teeth that get increasingly eerie the longer you stare. "We're friends, aren't we?" 
Before, you wouldn't have blinked twice at her words and tone. You would have mindlessly agreed, smiled even. But things were different now. You were playing pretend with a known murderer. 
If you close your eyes, you can still remember the faces in that court before their heads exploded. You'd been behind a screen, watching it all in horror and you remembered closing your eyes and begging for Victoria to be alright, praying that it would be okay if everyone died but her. 
And now to realize she caused all that? 
"Maybe you have a fever. You're shaking." 
You were. You clasp your trembling hands together, trying to ease your nerves. 
"Yeah." Even your voice was wavering. Calm down. Calm down. "I still might not be over...whatever I came down with."
The predator clicks her tongue in sympathy, cooing as she nears her prey. You force yourself not to stiffen when she wraps a sturdy hand around your shoulders, leading you over to the couch. You sit next to her with your thigh pressed up against hers. You feel like you're about to vomit. 
"You should rest," Victoria says, "take a few days off work. I'll let everyone know." 
"Yeah," you say because this is good, it'll help you focus on what you need to do next, "definitely, thank you." 
"Oh, please, don't thank me." She laughs. "I'm glad you're not in the office because you're sick. For some reason, I thought you were avoiding me. Y'know, 'cause you were scared, I would pop your head." 
One second. Two seconds. And then you're up, scrambling off the sofa. It's instinct to run from monsters, no matter if they would take your head off your shoulders on a whim, whenever they want. It's instinct to be stupid and careless and run. 
If anything, you should be grateful this monster is her. 
She's strong, like all Supes are. Even though you know what she is, it takes you a moment to realize it's Victoria who had pinned you against the couch, keeping you underneath her. You used to win arm-wrestling competitions against her. The pressure caused your lungs to tighten, making it hard to breathe. Even has you struggled, tried to claw at her hands, tug on her pristine clothes, she didn't budge. You think the worst thing about all of this was that it didn't even look like it took much effort to keep you down. Like she was wrestling a kitten. 
"Easy, easy." She hushes, tone soft and condescending. "C'mon, we're both adults, aren't we? Let's be civil here." 
Civil. Like she had any right to use that word after what she's done for months, perhaps all her life. Your heart is a hummingbird frazzled with fear, but you can feel that twinge of anger and resentment even then. Something else too: betrayal. 
"Why?" You asked, your voice failing. "Why, Vicky?" 
For the first time tonight, her mask cracks. Her eyes flicker, looking at your defeated body before coming back up to your face. She looks remorseful, but not guilty. 
"I didn't....I didn't want you to find out this way." She admits, slightly easing off you, enough to ease the force in your lungs. "Or maybe ever, actually. Fucking Cambell, leaving a mess, and then running off. What else can you expect from that guy, right?" 
You just stare. Victoria sighs. 
“Of all people, I thought you would understand.” Her voice wavers. “I thought you’d get it, somehow.” 
You look at her, and you feel like you’re staring at that girl from Red River. Scared and Trembling Nadia, who just wanted love, someone to lean on. Someone who wasn't scared of her. 
Then it flickers, and then Victoria's back. 
"You murdered a whole room." You finally say. "How could you possibly ask me to understand that?" 
She glowers, her frown deepens, and then she's sitting up, getting off you. You learn your lesson from last time, but you still huddle in the corner of the sofa, watching her. 
"Right, because I'm supposed to believe you feel bad for them." Victoria rolls her eyes. "Half of those guys vacationed on Epstein's island before the brand change, and you were there when those deep fakes came out. Remember Congressmen Davis? He kept staring at your ass on the House Floor, so I'm not sure why you're acting like they're suddenly men of valor." 
"Yes, yes, yes, they were terrible people." You press your hand to your forehead. "But you-we-we can't kill people. We-we're supposed to do things the right way and I just-" You choke on your words. 
"Hughie got to you," she notes, "I knew I shouldn't have paired you up with each other." 
"You lied to me." You murmur. There's no anger anymore, just heartbreak. "You lied to everyone. I thought we were fighting against Vought, but we've been in their pocket this whole time." 
"We're still fighting-" 
"You're Stan Edgar's daughter. We're in their pocket."
You press your hands to your face, squeezing. All the while you can feel Victoria watching. You ignore her. There's no point in talking to her, not anymore. You might not have known Victoria, but you know the Supe that committed a massacre. Her cover was blown. You were a leaking faucet she needed to turn off. 
"What now?" You ask, drawing up to look at her. "Are you going to kill me?" 
Her mouth twitches. Her eyes flicker with realization. A soft coo comes from her lips, utterly condescending. Suddenly, her posture changes: less intimidating, more welcoming. 
"Oh, sweetie, is that why you're so upset?" She shifts until you're trapped in her arms. You don't bother fighting. Your bravery has run out. Tears are already dripping down your cheeks. "You thought I was gonna...." There's a laugh spilling off her lips. You squeeze your eyes shut when she hugs you tighter. 
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Victoria says, a smile in her voice. "Not to you. Never to you." 
Her hands are so warm as she cradles your face, forcing you to look at her. It's a gentle type of cruelty, forcing you to face your fears while the monster gives you a beautiful smile. 
"I cherish you too much to do that." 
You must look so lost. She laughs even more at that. 
"Seriously? It wasn't obvious? C'mon, Zoe is crazy about you, she never shuts up. And I...I think it's better if I just..." 
Her lips are soft. Gentle. You don't kiss back. You can't. You're frozen in ice. 
"I won't hurt you." Then, her tone tightens just the tiniest bit. "You're friends and family, on the other hand..."
When she pulls away, she's the most relaxed you've ever seen her. You wish you could say the same. While her smile grows larger, so does the gaping hole in your stomach. 
You close your eyes, slumping in defeat.
"What do you want?" You plead. 
You can feel her lips press on your cheek. Victory.
When you walk through the door, Zoe looks elated. 
She calls your name with a delighted giggle, reaching out to hug you. You wish you could return her enthusiasm, but you can barely pat her head. 
"What're you doing here?" She asks when she's done hugging you, looking up at you with pretty eyes. Her eyes are much like her mother's; they just haven't lost their innocence yet. 
Neuman steps in, a strong hand on your shoulder. That same gentle smile that holds the comfort a mother has for her daughter. 
"Gas leak, right?" She turns to look at you. "Real nasty. So, I offered our home for a little while." 
Zoe nods. She's the only thing so far that's remained stagnant. Maybe that's why you're more than eager to listen to what she did at school that day. She rambles on and on, and there's nothing left to say anymore. Until Victoria sends her daughter to bed. 
"It's probably best to keep the real reason hush-hush," she tells you later, shutting the master bedroom. 
You're seated pliantly on the bed, watching her shrug off her cardigan. The mattress sinks underneath your weight. Silk covers. It's too big for just one person. 
You're not a captive, she explained in the back of her fancy black car. You could roam around, meet up with friends, call people, do whatever your heart desired. It would just be under her eyes from now on. 
"A safeguard." She charitably explained, perfectly manicured fingernails drumming on her thigh. "Just so you don't do something we both might regret." 
You don't know if she'd been telling the truth when she insisted your head was off-limits, but you knew she had your family's names and addresses. So you sat pliantly in that car, pliantly listened to Zoe, and pliantly followed Victoria into her bedroom. 
On paper, you weren't a captive. But you and Victoria both knew better. 
"Is Zoe also...?" You trail off, averting your eyes when she unbuttons her blouse. You can hear her clothes drop to the floor as she unabashedly rifles through her drawer. 
"No," Victoria answers. And then your heart drops when she adds. "Not yet." 
You shudder, but she's already sitting next to you. She coaxes you to look at her with a hand on your cheek. Even dressed down, she's gorgeous. Unblemished skin was barely covered by a silk gown. 
You think she looks just as upset as you. Maybe even more. She pets your cheek thoughtlessly. 
"When I brought you to my bed for the first time, I thought things would be different, somehow." She laughs. It sounds bitter. 
"I never wanted this. Not for us," Victoria says, "but-but there's nothing else I can do. It...." 
A tear drips down your face. She's pushing it away. 
'You'll be okay." A kiss to your temple. "I know you will." Lips at your cheek. 
When she finally gives into her inhibitions and kisses you, you know she was lying about it all. 
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railingsofsorrow · 2 months ago
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Back To Normalcy
[JJ Maybank x reader]
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summary: JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.
pairing: jj maybank x f!reader
w.c: 2.8K
warnings/content: near death experiences (flashbacks); obx4 ending is discussed (as in graphic descriptions of what happened so be aware); jj being the best whipped boyfriend; PTSD is hinted; hurt/comfort (trust me, no one dies); paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.
A/N: this is kind of a fix-it and it is set after the pogues find the blue crown. it will have discrepancies regarding canon cause I didn't watch obx4 part 2. bear with me. I'm editing this in the middle of class lol. merry christmas to those who celebrate and a happy new years!!!
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masterpost
obx masterlist
request me something
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“So it's like... We gotta think of everything. Yeah, we found it, but we gotta—”
“... Have a solid plan, yeah, Pope.” John B cut him off, earning a glare which made the edge of his lips quirk up in amusement. If there was one thing the Pogues had fun in doing, that thing was annoying Pope Heyward. It was just too easy. “Sorry, sorry.” The Routledge boy raised his arms, pretending to surrender but the grin in his mouth betrayed him. John B never felt the will to smile more than he did in that moment. He had his friends. His family. With him. Safe and sound. Finally. Everyone in one piece. Barely. . . And back home. What more could he ask for?
What more could any of them ask for, really?
You tuned out the conversation for the tenth time that night. You loved bonfires. Especially the ones where your friends organized, where you felt at home around their stupid jokes and drunk laughter.
But you couldn't focus tonight. Somehow you always ended up right back in the scalding sand of Morocco, blood sipping through your fingers as tried desperately to stop it. Your screams of agony even though you weren't the one stabbed echoed through your brain like you had worked hard to memorize it.
You'd rather it had been you, actually. No doubt about that.
The soft nudge in your leg made you step out of the infusion of bad memories your head had conjured up. As your eyes adjusted to the bonfire's flames, you noticed all your friends staring at you in expectancy.
“What?”
Instead of the nudge, you felt cold fingers come in contact with your thigh and you almost flinched at the coldness — that coldness — before you caught the beer bottle in his hand. With a gentle squeeze to your thigh, JJ brought you back to Earth.
“I was just tellin' them here,” he began, leaving his beer aside to scoot closer. “how I'm gonna kidnap you to South America any moment now.”
“Hey.” You forced your breathing to slow down. He didn't need you freaking out now, he needed you to be on your best sane behavior, that's what JJ needed. He needed you. “Jay? Baby, take a deep breath, it's alright.”
“He, um...” JJ's shaky hands reached yours and you shook your head when his fingers curled around your bloody ones in his stomach. “I can't— You—”
“I'm here. It's okay. It's gonna be okay, yeah? You just, you just have to keep breathing. Slowly, like me? Okay?”
Where was everybody?
“And how are you gonna do that?” You forced out, taking a long sip of your beer in a foolish attempt of drowning the memories in your head.
Sarah let out a snicker and Cleo's thick accent scolded somebody but you couldn't bring yourself to the present moment. No, you were still fucking there.
“Pope!” You bellowed now unable to control the shakiness of your hands as they tried to stop the blood. So much blood. So much blood. Why? “John B! Where is— Kiara! Baby, hey, hey!” You used one of your hands to grab his cheek, tilting his head to look at you, his half-lidded eyes showed you how weak he was. You didn't care that his pretty face was smeared with your bloody hands, you had to make him stay awake. “JJ? JJ!”
He blinked with difficulty, gazing up at you. “Hi...” And he had the decency to smile. He smiled! How can someone who has been stabbed smile and it takes your breath away the same away? You never thought you'd see his last smile and you shouldn't even be thinking of that because you both are young and have a whole life ahead of you so why would you be thinking of your boyfriend's last smile?
“Hey.” You cried out. “J, you gotta stay awake for me, okay? I'm getting help. You just have to—”
“I love you.”
Certainly, your whole body froze right at that second. That hadn't been the first time he said it, no. JJ made sure to let you know he loved you thousands of times ever since he said the three little words for the first time. And every time he said it, you felt the warmth of his arms around you, his sunbathed skin against yours and the softness of his lips curling in his favorite spot on your neck after a long day.
That's what “I love you” means when JJ says it.
Except now there was no warmth because he felt cold. Everything regarding him was cold. The kind of coldness a boy with the sun in his smile shouldn't have. There was no smile, not the same smile, at least. There was no life because your favorite boy was saying goodbye and that's what his words meant this time.
Coming back to the bonfire was almost as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. Your friends had vanished. Nobody was around but you.
“Hey.”
. . . And JJ.
You should've thought he wouldn't have left you alone.
“Hey,” you offered him a half-assed smile. “Where's everyone?”
“Inside.” He mentioned towards the house with a jerk of his head before turning back to you. His cerulean eyes studied your frame for a bit before he let out a sigh, standing up and outstretching a hand in your direction.
You stared at it and him with a raise of your brow. A question.
There was nothing JJ hated more than waiting. So, he didn't wait. He lowered fully to kiss your lips since you were sitting down, enjoying the way they parted in surprise. Stealthily, he wrapped an arm behind your back and beneath your knees and before you could react he pulled you up as if you weighted a penny.
“Jesse James Maybank!”
Oh, he was well aware he was in deep shit when you say that but hell, he missed having a reaction from you that was something other than forced smiles and blank stares.
JJ often caught your unfocused gaze drifting to a random corner, lost inside your head. After Morocco, he noticed that a lot.
“Not the government name, babe.”
“Dude, put me down.”
A gasp. “And now I've been called dude what has this world become!”
He halted near the water, after walking across the beach for a few long minutes with you in his arms. You just stopped fighting, slapping his butt at every step he took.
“You think it's the drums or somethin'?”
“Could be.”
As he sent a look of disapproval your way once he placed you down on your feet, it pulled a laugh out of you.
His fingers — no longer cold — cupped your cheeks and brought you closer. “Do it again.”
“Do what?”
His eyes carried that glint of pure joy mixed with the ocean blue that would get you hypnotized. You just didn't know why this time.
“Your laugh. Haven't heard it in so long.”
Oh.
“That's not true.” You held his wrists just to feel the warmth of his skin when he began caressing your cheeks.
JJ hummed, the sound a gentle protest against your claim. He's come a long way to know your little tells, so he wasn't not easily fooled. With a glance in your way, he knew the hidden meanings.
“Uh, yeah. It is, babe.”
You pulled your hair behind your ears, burying your toes in the sand as you racked your brain to seek an excuse that would work to get you out of that conversation. Any excuse would do, really. But you feared you used all of them since you came back from Morocco. And he knew that.
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed down with difficulty.
“Are you?”
“That's not what I asked.”
You finally glanced up, finding him staring forward at the waves, almost distracted. No, not almost. The look in his eyes, you recognize in yourself when drifted back to two weeks ago and the horror took over your mind. It didn't only happen to the two of you, you remember that every time you caught John B outside in the middle of the night, arms behind his head as he stared at nowhere in particular. Or Sarah, when she would crawl up into your bed saying she missed you but you knew exactly what she meant by that. Or Cleo. Oftentimes you needed to force something out of her given everything she went through otherwise she would shove it all in and then never share. Or Pope, because he lost a lot and yes he would never say he hated the whole chasing gold adventure or Poguelandia but he missed safety and a time when you didn't have to worry about danger at your every corner. He's getting used to peace a little more now. Or Kiara, the girl who was a fighter through and through and would choose her friends over anyone in the world, but she needed reassurance once in a while and you all would coddle her a little when you knew it was time for it.
The look.
They all had it. They all suffered through stuff that made them carry it.
And not talking about it made it worse, you told Cleo that once, but since when did you ever take your own advice?
“Yeah, well, Jayj.” You begin, crossing your arms over your chest as the wind picked up. “It happened to you, not to me. It's you who should be ready to talk about it, not me.”
“I remember the blood in your hands, my blood,” JJ still didn't look at you. He was ready to talk about it, not ready-ready but he could accept what happened. That he almost wasn't here. “I remember your voice asking—pleading for me to not close my eyes—”
“Stop.”
JJ finally turned to you, his lips tugging downwards with sadness. “See? It's you who can't talk about it.”
“You almost died in my arms and you expect me to just accept that as if it was a common occurrence?!” It came out as an accusation but in reality you didn't really blame him. He had no fault whatsoever in being stabbed and almost dying. The fault relayed only on the person who caused this torture on all of you. “I can't...” Your voice cracked with newfound emotion. “I can't imagine living in a world where you're not in it, JJ.”
Before he could speak, you cut him off. The dam had broke and now everything you had been hold it in was going to be unleashed.
“You told me you loved me and then you... You stopped breathing.”
He blinked, brows furrowing in thought. JJ knew there was some things he couldn't entirely recall that day, but he didn't remember that.
“I love you.”
If his heartbeat was faint before, now it was non-existent and if felt like the weight of the world had crumbled down on you.
“Open your eyes,” you begged, grabbing his cheeks as a cry of pain left your lips. He was cold. His eyelids shut as if he was sleeping. He was calm. “JJ, open your eyes!” And that's when you felt something touch your shoulder, different hands and voices beside you. All you could focus was on him. “No, c'mon. Jay. Jay? I didn't—” you held his head to your chest, fully sobbing. It was like your heart was being ripped apart. “I didn't say it back.”
Even if she had told him she loved him as many times before, she hadn't say it one last time in time.
You flinched slightly when you were pulled into a pair of arms, fingers reaching the back of your neck to gently press you against a chest. A beating heart welcomed your ears and you didn't realize you were crying until the sobs must've echoed the entire beach.
“I'm sorry, I don't— I don't remember that.”
Your cries were muffled by his shirt. “It wasn't your fault,” you said, your chest tight. “I wish it hadn't gotten to that point cause it was... Fuck.”
JJ tightened his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your neck. He was still clearly shaken up by what happened, reasonably so. But seeing you like that... He would've take back every decision he made that took your group to that moment just so you wouldn't have to go through that.
He complained when you pulled back a little, drying your tears to glance up at him. Your lips stretching into a timid smile. A real one.
“I'm glad you're okay.” You said with a nod, exhaling as the fog diminished significantly. “I'm happy. But I'm so deeply sorry that I couldn't do more. That I almost let you—”
“Hey, no, no.” JJ was quick to interrupt your train of thought, grabbing your shoulders. “Do not even go there, alright? Absolutely not. Don't even— babe.” He leaned down to connect your foreheads. “You saved my life. All of you. You really think I'd be fine with going... wherever that I wouldn't be able to annoy the shit out of you? I mean— ow!”
You glared at him after punching his forearm though you weren't upset as soon as he gave you his disarming grin that turned your legs to Jell-O.
“You told me you can't imagine living in a world where I'm not in it, right? Well.” JJ brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles as his blue eyes full of life studied you in a serious manner. “I happen to absolutely not want to live in a world without in it either...” He tugged you closer. “It would be boring as hell and that's why I would probably, I don't know, crawl out of whatever grave I was in to tickle your feet during the night.”
“Fuck off.” You groaned with a laugh and he shut you up with a kiss, his hand crawling up on your back to press your closer.
“I can't live without your sounds,” he kissed the edge of your mouth, then moved towards your jaw. “Any of them. I can't live without your smile or seeing your lashes fluttering before you wake up. Or without seeing you when you're pissed at me and you pout the entire time, it just makes me want to kiss you but I know it would earn me a punch in the neck.”
“Yeah it would.”
He chuckled, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his middle. He held the back of your thighs, thumbs running through your smooth skin.
“Hey.” He said softly, bumping his nose with yours as the waves crashed a few feet away, butting in on your moment. “I love you. And I'm gonna stay in your life for as long as you let me. There will be no stupid rushed goodbyes or near-death experiences that will stop that, alright?” He smiled when you nodded, pressing your lips to his. “Yeah.” He started kissing your whole face then just to listen to the inevitable sound of your laugh again. He could never get tired of it. JJ would crawl out of hell just to hear that sound for the rest of his life.
“And about that South America trip—”
“I'm in.” You said, resting your chin on his shoulder, fingertips scratching his scalp as you stared at the sea. “You can kidnap me to wherever you want.”
His excited laughter echoed in your ears like your favourite song chiming in during a stormy night.
“Oh we're gonna have so much fun.” JJ started rambling on his way back to the house, you in his arms because he refused to put you down. “I'm finally teaching you how to surf! And we can visit all the beaches in Brazil, 'm gonna show you some pictures, it'll be amazin', baby, you'll see.”
“I can't wait.” You mumbled with a kiss to his temple. “Are you just gonna carry me around or...”
“Yes.” He pecked your lips, hands squeezing your waist lightly which earned a proper curse out of you and his usual untamed laugh that you were crazy about. “Just stay put and look pretty.”
You rolled your eyes, wrapping both arms around his neck and didn't complain. Why would you? You had your favorite boy holding you in his arms, rambling about your future plans to South America on his way to your place. You had nothing to complain about.
You just had to get used to getting back to normalcy.
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taglist: @hoeshissworld
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daizedndconfused · 2 months ago
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do you have any cole relationship headcanons? hope your schoolwork is going smoothly :D
a/n: do i have cole relationship head cannons?? buckle up my friend home girl has got ideas to share. hahaha also tysmm (can you tell i hate school lmao) i’m struggling out here fr 😭 one more week and i’m free!!! btw—last one is slightly suggestive. sooo barely but still.
cole relationship headcannons
one of his love languages is 100% quality time. he doesn’t care what you’re doing tbh you don’t even have to talk to him he just likes being near you. like when he’s working out he’ll sometimes use you as a bench press usually just for fun but he wants you to feel included in his routine. or if he’s doing pushups he’ll ask you to sit on his back and help count his reps for him. lucky for you he’s trapped and therefore you can rant to him as much as you want. he loves it ofc and he’s always interested in what to have to say
he almost never sleeps without you. throughout your entire relationship you can count the days you’ve actually slept by yourself on one hand. sure the two of you will always start in your own rooms, but at some point throughout the night you’ll either migrate to his room or vice versa. youll always bid each other good night confident you’ll wake up alone the next morning, but then you feel a dip in your mattress and suddenly cole’s got his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck. oh well. maybe tomorrow night.
he’s very protective. cole’s a tall guy if you read my fics yk what i mean. he’s tall and he’s strong, one look at him can tell you that. since you guys live in the city there’s always gonna be that one creep. normally if the guy just catcalls you as you two walk by, he waits a second for you to deal with it yourself. if you decide to call the guy out he’s holding back a laugh knowing the guy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you while cole’s standing right behind you. however if you’re not confrontational like that, and you’re okay with it, he’ll say something snarky in return but neither of you stop walking. if you tell him to leave it alone and ignore the guy he will—but he'll throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you closer to him just in case.
hates scary movies. he loves you—more than life itself but he will never watch a horror movie with you. hell no. he’s scared of ghosts and everything adjacent irl he’d rather die than watch a movie about them. you always poke fun at him and call him a wuss but no matter the peer pressure—your boy is stubborn. call him a sissy all you want he does not care he will not watch insidious with you. whenever you bring up the topic he either walks away pretending to be on the phone or he kisses you until you forget about it. sometimes you joke about it just for the second option ;)
gives you cute nicknames. we’re all well aware some pet names are cringey and you gotta be strategic about them. for cole his go tos are ‘gorgeous’ ‘my gorgeous girl’ and ‘honey/hun’ seeing as they’re simple and cute. however, he has a few cheesier/sentimental ones. when he’s feeling really lovey dovey he calls you ‘sugar’ or ‘sweet thing’. most of the time he uses sweet thing as a greeting/joke. for example on your days off you’re normally up before him and will go make some breakfast for the both of you. of course, the ninja he is, he’ll sneak up behind you wrap his arms around you and go “morning sweet thing, what’s for breakfast?” you jump nearly five feet out of your skin every time and he dies laughing even as you swat at him with a dish towel
he can never find his clothes. the reason behind this is you. you steal them all the damn time. at this point you have half his wardrobe at your disposal. his clothes just fit so comfy and they smell like him and you love it. one day he was looking for one of his band tees and he quite literally looked everywhere. eventually he gave up and walked back to his room—only to find you cuddled up on his bed with one of his throw blankets, and wouldn’t you know it…wearing the shirt he’d been looking for. he’ll just roll his eyes with a love sick expression and grab a different one. he only says something when he only has like three outfits left in his closet. you reluctantly hand them over—but the secret reason behind him letting you keep them that long is because once he gets them back they smell like you. every once in a while he’ll get a whiff of your perfume still stuck to his clothes and he gets all giddy as if you two just started dating.
you guys are the parental couple. after a few months of dating—you guys were branded the parental/chill couple by the rest of the team. usually if one of your teammates were doing something dumb in your presence either you or cole would tell them to knock it off. of course they don’t listen but they will take their antics elsewhere. the two of you are so low maintenance together that every time you’re together it feels like a date—doesn’t matter what you’re doing
your sparring matches get a little heated. if the rest of the team is around you keep it professional, but on the offhand you two are alone?? it’s fair game. it’s less sparring and more verbal chirping and then maybe some added combat. before you two spar—you place a bet. it can be anything (reasonable ofc) but the first person to pin the other for three seconds wins. you two fight dirty. not in dirty hits but every time you think you’re losing, you trail your hands up his torso and kiss his neck passionately. that normally gives you a split sec of hesitation on his part and you’re able to flip him over, pinning him beneath you as you win again. he’ll pretend to hate it but you see right through him.
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sodavizz · 3 months ago
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—Island In The Sun!
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ct: @the-phantom-peach of their amazing art of my bb <33
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ
Pairings: Daisuke x F! Reader
Wc: idk 1k+
Warnings: None, just pure fluff :3
Daisuke had always loved the beach. The salty air, the endless stretch of sand, and the way the waves whispered secrets as they hit the shore—he felt at home here. But today, there was something different. Maybe it was the sun, sinking low in the sky and casting everything in gold, or maybe it was just the way she stood out in the crowd.
He had been sitting there for a while, mindlessly playing with the sand, but his eyes kept drifting over to her. She was laughing with her friends, her hair shimmering like threads of gold in the sunlight, her smile so effortless it almost looked like it belonged in a movie. She wore a white sundress that fluttered in the breeze, and to him, she was... perfect.
He didn’t believe in love at first sight. Honestly, he’d always thought that was a little cheesy, the stuff of rom-coms. But in that moment, watching her from across the beach, something inside him clicked. He had never seen anyone quite like her before, and before he knew it, he couldn’t stop staring. His heart started racing, and all he could think was: Who is this beautiful lady?
But she wasn’t looking at him. Not at first.
Her attention was on her friends, who were goofing around and splashing in the water. Daisuke watched from a distance, hoping she might glance his way, but the more he stared, the more he realized she was completely oblivious. Maybe that was for the best. What could he possibly say to someone like her?
Then, a voice broke his concentration.
“Dude,” one of his buddies teased, nudging him lightly. “Are you gonna just stare at that girl all day?”
Daisuke froze. He didn’t know if he should laugh or die of embarrassment.
----
You looked over, your gaze scanning the beach, and sure enough, your eyes landed on him. For a split second, both of your eyes met, and then he quickly looked away, as though he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Seriously?” you muttered, half-smiling and half-rolling your eyes. “He’s still looking.”
Your friends burst out laughing. “Looks like someone’s got a crush!”
You shot them a look but couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck. You turned your attention back to your friends, pretending not to care, but you had to admit—there was something a little funny about being the center of his attention.
----
The hours passed, and soon the sun had dipped below the horizon. The beach bar, a cozy little spot right on the sand, began to fill up with people wanting to make the most of the evening. She and her friends decided to grab a table, the mood light and easy. Daisuke was still sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, but now, instead of just glancing over at her, he was watching her from across the room.
He’d been trying to build up the nerve to go over and talk to her for what felt like forever. He wasn’t a shy guy, but there was something about her that made him feel out of his league. She was beautiful, sure, but there was more to it than that. It was like she had this effortless confidence that made him second-guess everything he was going to say.
“Just go talk to her, man,” his friend had said earlier, giving him an encouraging nudge. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
The worst? He didn’t even want to think about it.
So he stayed put, watching from a distance as she laughed with her friends. And then, just as he was thinking maybe it wasn’t meant to be, he saw her glance in his direction. Their eyes met again—this time, not for a fleeting second, but long enough for him to feel his heart race.
Okay. That was it. He couldn’t put it off any longer.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up. His palms were sweaty, and his stomach was in knots. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, but there he was, walking toward her table.
She noticed him coming, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise. She’d probably thought he wasn’t going to approach after all the staring he’d been doing earlier.
He stopped in front of the table, feeling like he might faint any second. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just, uh... I had to come over and say hi.”
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re the guy from the beach, right?”
Daisuke couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, that’s me. I mean, I guess I’m the guy who stared at you all afternoon.” He immediately cringed, cursing himself inwardly.
The girl chuckled. “No, it’s fine. You just caught my attention. It’s not every day a guy spends hours staring at you.”
He winced. “Yeah, that wasn’t... ideal. But, hey, I thought I should at least introduce myself. I’m Daisuke.”
She gave him a playful smile. “[insert y/n].”
There was a brief silence, and for a second, Daisuke wondered if he should just walk away. But then, She spoke again, her tone light.
“So, what made you finally come over? After all that staring?”
Daisuke smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I guess I figured I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. And I didn’t want to be that creepy guy who just stares and never does anything about it.”
[Insert y/n's] smile softened, and for a moment, he thought maybe she was going to laugh at him. But instead, she just looked at him with a kind of warmth in her eyes that made him feel a little less ridiculous.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “So, uh, what’s your deal, Daisuke? What brings you to this part of the world?”
And just like that, the awkwardness started to fade. The conversation flowed, easy and natural. They talked about everything—how they both loved the ocean, their favorite kinds of music, the weirdest things they’d ever seen on vacation. They joked about everything from childhood memories to the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to them in public. Before long, the tension had melted away completely, and it felt like they’d known each other for years.
The night wore on, and eventually, the bar began to close. But they weren’t in a hurry.
As they stood up to leave, Daisuke found himself feeling... content. There was something real about this connection. No forced pickup lines. No awkward silences. Just two people talking, getting to know each other in the easiest way possible.
“Hey,” Daisuke said, pulling out his phone. “Maybe we can grab coffee sometime? I know, super original, right?”
[insert y/n] smiled, her eyes bright. “I think I’d like that.”
And just like that, what had started as a nervous glance across a crowded beach had turned into something more—something that felt, for the first time in a long while, like it could actually be the beginning of something good.
-----
testing, hehe
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damiansgoodgirll · 6 months ago
Note
damian priest x reader, damian gets jealous when the reader gets to be paired in a tag team match with another male superstar and celebrate their tag team win
damian priest x reader
‼️jealous damian, mention of smut but no actual smut
likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
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goin’ crazy
“that’s not fair” your boyfriend damian blurted out while you were finishing getting ready for your match.
it’s not like you had any choice. you were offered a tag team match against seth and becky and you couldn’t say no.
damian wasn’t really happy when you got paired with drew. heavily despising the scottish, damian couldn’t understand why he wasn’t picked instead of drew.
“damian…” you called him “it’s just a match, it’s just work…”
“i know but still, i don’t understand why they picked drew instead of me…we work so good together and we have some power moves that would make becky and seth on their knees” damian was complaining like a toddler.
“because this feud is between seth, drew and punk…you already have enough to care about with the judgment day, plus you have a match later on…damian, trust me, it’s going to be okay” you tried to calm him down.
it’s not that damian didn’t trust you.
he didn’t trust drew.
he didn’t trust no man near you, especially when he would have to touch you.
“i know but”
“no buts damian” you turned to face him once you were done with your make up “it’s just work…you should know this better than anyone else” you smiled at him.
“you’re right…” he gave up, knowing that complaining with you would only make you more angry.
“now, can you give me a good luck kiss or do i have to ask drew for that too?” you joked, making damian to arch his brows.
“come here before i bend you over and i show drew what he could never have” he smirked at you, holding you close by your hips and kissing your lips. his strong hands were moving from your hips to your back, making you shiver under his touch while his lips softly played with yours, kissing and biting them.
“damian…i’m gonna be late” you whispered against his lips.
“maybe i want you to be late” he said making you laugh as he kissed you again.
“okay, now i really have to go…wish me good luck” you said smiling at him.
damian knew that no matter how jealous he was, he couldn’t ruin your happiness so he pretended everything was okay just to see you smile again and again “okay, good luck on the match, see you after that! kick some asses out there” he said making you laugh.
he stayed backstage, rhea later on joined him too.
“i’m going crazy” he said making her laugh.
he was watching you through the tv in your changing room. seth and becky were already in the ring, you were waking side by side with drew. people thought that it was a crazy combination pairing you with drew but everyone was curious about it.
the match started pretty easily, just you and becky against each other, but it was when you shoved her against the corner that the real match began.
you wanted to win that match. for your fans, for damian, for drew, for you. you knew you were capable of doing it so. even if you weren’t as experienced as becky, you had big potential and you were ready to use it.
becky was clearly in distress so she moved to seth only to be blocked by you. you shoved her on the ground again, making her yelp from pain but in a split of second she was able to free herself and move to seth.
you turned around and moved to drew, changing your position and now cheering for him.
drew was stronger than seth, heavier and probably more pissed than he was so it started with drew attacking him and shoving him to the ground. you couldn’t deny that watching drew attacking seth, made you think that maybe you two were a good team.
it was good match but when you saw drew getting more tired, you offered him your hand just to be yanked off the ring by becky.
now you were the one in pain. you heard the referee counting but he stopped at two as drew didn’t give up.
when you got up becky wanted to hit you but she saw an opportunity to distract drew to make them win but you didn’t let her so when she was about to get on the ring, you strongly grabbed her from the ankle and threw her off just like she did with you.
in that moment you saw that as an opportunity to distract seth to make drew win so, to everyone shock, you claymore-d seth, making his body go limp inside the ring.
you heard everyone cheering for you. drew was shocked. rhea and damian were shocked too watching the match backstage.
drew took the opportunity you gave him and pinned seth, making the referee count to three and making you win the match.
“oh my…” you joined drew on the ring, celebrating with him. he was genuinely happy, he took your arm and raised it like the referee did.
“you did good” he smiled at you.
“you too!” you congratulated him.
damian was happy for your match but he couldn’t help the jealousy when he saw you and drew smiling at each other.
in the meantime drew accompanied you backstage “that was a good match y/n…anytime you want to train just let me know okay?”
“absolutely! i loved being tag team with you” you smiled, not realising that damian was behind you two. he wanted to welcome you back after the match and he definitely wasn’t expecting to see you all chitchatting with drew.
“and that claymore? you surprised everyone!” he joked, making you laugh.
“i know…i watched many of your matches…i’ve always wanted to recreate that move” you joked.
“well…you did great and” before he could continue damian interrupted you both.
“congratulations on the match” you both turned to face him. his tone was pretty serious and drew took that as a sign to leave you alone “you watched his videos? you wanna train with him?” he asked, a little hint of jealousy in his voice.
you laughed, damian was definitely overreacting and you found it adorable “you know that drew is married, don’t you?” you teased him.
“if he’s married, why can’t he train with his wife?” he asked, coming closer to you.
“maybe cause she’s not a wrestler?” you teased him again, he hated the power you had on him “plus, you can’t deny we did good! it was incredible!”
“fair…and yes, it was a good match, you really surprised me with that claymore” he smiled against your lips “you surprised everyone” he said before kissing you softly “me too”
you melted into the kiss. it was soft, not like the one he gave you before the match. this kiss showed how much he trusted you.
“go get ready for your match” you smiled against his lips “and if you win you might get a surprise tonight” you winked before leaving him alone, watching as you left.
oh, he definitely was going to win that match for you.
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verysanebsdfan · 2 months ago
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Can u pls do the main four x a fem reader who bottles up all their emotions and pretends to be happy and one day they find the reader crying all by themselves. Sry if it wasn't clear. Btw I LOVE 🩷 ur work it is awesome.
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Hii everyone!! Thank you so much for requesting!! I am glad oyu enjoy my work <33 I would like to apologize again for how long this took =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) I have no excuse for myself, and also I still have a lot of requests to do so stay tuned <33 (itll probably take long but shush)
MASTERLIST!!
Might be OOC!! and is short!! :((
cw: mentions of toxic family members, no use of y/n, use of she/her pronouns but really minimal since i mostly use 'you'
ʟᴇᴏʀɪᴏ, ᴋᴜʀᴀᴘɪᴋᴀ, ᴋɪʟʟᴜᴀ, ɢᴏɴ (sᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛᴇ) x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
It was at that moment knew, you messed up, at least in your eyes.
・・・・・
Some minutes ago, you got a call from your lovely family member, just friendly chit chat right? Wrong!! Again and again it turned against you. It always ends like this. No matter what you try, you will never be enough for them. And lately there has been so much going on too...
・・・・・
And that is why you ended up bawling your eyes out besides the bed in your current accomodation, with him next to you.
ʟᴇᴏʀɪᴏ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪɴɪɢʜᴛ
A sob left your throat and you looked at him with teary eyes. Why did he even bother to stay? Yes, he is different to you. He cares, but he cares enough to stay? To stay when you are at your lowest. You turn to take a look at him.
"Why are you still here?"
You sniffle as you slightly lean into his gentle touch on your back. He only continues caressing you gently, and then leans in to gently wrap his arms around you.
"I am here for you because i care...silly"
And so, he stayed by your side for a long time. Enough for you to partially calm down. Everything is good now. He's here.
ᴋᴜʀᴀᴘɪᴋᴀ ᴋᴜʀᴛᴀ
As you sob softly- actually not softly at all, you bawl your eyes out, after finally breaking down your oh so happy facade you always let on, you might actually hear someones steps towards you, slowly pushing your head upwards to look at the unwanted intruder.
"Oh...not him please...he can't see me like this"
You thought, but it was too late. He has already sat down beside you, worried. Why was a person that is so dear to him, crying on the floor, looking as if their whole family got murdered, their cat got ran over and they lost all their money due to gamling. Which, obviously, isn't true, but you might or might not look like that.
He silently sat next to you. Keeping you company, occasionally caressing your back. After all, thats what you did when he was in your place.
ɢᴏɴ ғʀᴇᴇᴄss
When Gon saw you, his best friend, bawling their eyes, not just because they watched a sad reel, or a sad movie, perhaps a sad book. No. No sign of that around. He knew something must have happened. And so he approaches you without a second thought, crouching down beside you.
"Hey...what's wrong?"
But you continue sobbing! he just wants to help, but how. And then he leaves! Really? Why does everyone leave you? That doesn't even sound like Gon. But then he returns. Carrying a bunch of snacks...such a sweet gesture right? And!! He stayed.
ᴋɪʟʟᴜᴀ ᴢᴏʟᴅʏᴄᴋ
It's not as if he knew what to do when he saw you breaking down right infront of him, even if you didn't know about him. It is not as if he got a lot of comfort when he was a kid ya know? Yet, he tries. He stays. And speak gently into your ear, how it's all gonna be okay. How he wont leave. How he will stay.
Later, when you calm down, he will awkwardly offer you some of his choco robots, not much tho!! It's still his after all....
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despacito-uwu16 · 6 months ago
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The Climax
Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader
Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining
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“Now I see you out here on your own, and you been. Sippin' on the Hennessy, like you don't remember me. Girl, we both know, don't pretend. That we ain't got history” - Tension by Jack & Jack
⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺
Ken waved at you as you pull up in his driveway. As soon as you opened the trunk, Kenji immediately took your bags.
“I could’ve done it myself”. You said.
“I wanted to be a gentleman”. Ken mockingly bows.
“Whatever”. You sighed as you follow him into his home.
You look around his spacious house. He has everything. A nice kitchen, a huge living room, a view of the ocean. Not gonna lie, you were pretty impressed.
“Were you always this spoiled”? You turn to Ken.
“Being an only child has his perks”. He says as he walks up to you with a cup of coffee. “Consider it an olive branch”. He extend the mug to you.
“Thank you”. You take the mug from him.
“Now, before we begin the two month long interview, I want to make two things clear”. Kenji begins. “One, you’re allowed to ask me anything, but I get to choose what to answer”.
“Then what’s the point of me asking you questions if you’re just gonna dodge them”.
“Anyways”. He continues,
“The second and most important thing, you’re free to roam around here but you’re not allowed in the basement”. He
“What’s in the basement”? You ask.
“None of your business”. He retorts.
“Alright then”. You put your hands up in defense.
“I look forward to the next two months. You will not be disappointed”. He extends his hand to shake.
“I look forward to this being over”. You smirked as you shake his hand.
~
The first couple of weeks, you were adjusting to your new environment. Despite you trying to be in good graces with him, you still found him annoying.
One time, you were in the living room peer reviewing an article when Ken enters the room with a jump rope. You paid no attention to him as he did his exercise in front of the glass window. But Kenji being the little prick he is, took off his shirt and threw it on the couch, landing on your head. You threw it down on the ground in disgust and looked to see Ken doing little tricks with his jump rope. All while being shirtless. He knows his plan is working when you noticed you staring at his reflection through the glass window.
“Like what you see”?
“I’d rather be hit by a baseball again”. You closed your laptop and walked off.
During your first interview with him, he was avoiding your questions and changing the subject left and right.
“You know, you said I get to ask you anything, and yet you’re not answering any of my questions”. You said.
“Remember rule number ? I get to pick and choose what questions to answer. Also, you said to “be honest”. He says while using air quotes.
“Being honest means answering the questions correctly”. You deadpanned.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you what you wanted to hear. Is that how you managed to end an athlete’s career? By manipulating them into telling you their secrets and use it against them”? Ken presses on.
“That’s not how journalism works Ken, I just report what i see and hear. I don’t need to manipulate anyone. If it causes a disruption in an athlete’s career, then so be it”. You cross your arms.
“You’re evil, you know that”? Ken glares at you.
“You’re impossible, you know that”? You retort.
“If me being impossible means seeing how sexy you look riled up, then yeah, I love being impossible“. He says.
You stood up and bend down on the table. His eyes met yours, both of your faces inches away from each other.
“Fuck off”. You sneered, ending the recording. You straightened your back and grabbed your recorder off the table. “I’m so over this”. You roll your eyes.
“Oh okay. Well the door is right behind you. Although a little FIY, if you walk out that door, it’s bye bye journalism career”. He leans back all smug.
You groan. Of course he’s going to bring up the blackmail, and it won’t stop until it’s over. Anger boils inside of you. He’s making this interview and your life a living hell. You really want to slap Ken in the face, but your integrity is keeping you from getting potentially fired.
Ken starts to laugh at you. “If only you could see what I see… you look super red right now. I should piss you off more often”.
The interview ended early and Ken ran off to “take care of business”, while you went back to the guest room, and took out your frustrations on a pillow.
~
When it came to watching Ken’s games, he paid for a private box, isolating you from everyone from the media. Some of your coworkers side eyed you, but all you could do was just sit there. You’d watching giants loose over and over again. From him attempting to break a bat, to his emotional breakdowns at home. Apart of you found this amusing. But another part of you feels a bit of sympathy.
You left the guest room to get a glass of water, when you saw Ken in the kitchen stuffing mochi donuts in his face.
“You know that’s not really healthy”. You commented.
He looks at you and takes another bite out of the donut. He pushes the donut box towards you implying for you to take one, but you declined.
For some reason, you feel bad for him. Sure, he’s annoying and rude, but you noticed that he wasn’t as confident as he was during college. Even during your interviews, he didn’t make any snarky comments and instead gave out short and closed off answers. It made you wonder what going on with him.
The next evening, Ken came home all tired and defeated. As he laid down on the couch, a sweet and tangy aroma caught his attention. He peaks into the kitchen to see you cooking something.
“Whatcha doing?” He asks.
“I’m making dinner”. You said.
“Why”?
“Cause I’d rather not eat a box of donuts”. You gestured to the unopened box of mochi donuts on the kitchen counter
He looks at you confused. You never do anything nice. Like ever.
“Go sit, food’s almost ready”. You gestered to the table as you took the asparagus out of the oven.
Five minutes later, you put down a plate with some teriyaki salmon and oven roasted asparagus, and then placed a bowl of white rice on the side.
“Smells good”. He compliments before taking a bite of his teriyaki salmon. His eyes widened. The flavors were bursting on his tounge, something he hasn’t experienced in weeks.
“Y’know, you didn’t have to do all of this”. Ken says with a mouthful of rice and salmon, making you internally gag.
“I wanted to. Considering how long I’ll be staying here, I’d rather not eat junk food everyday”. You said, taking a bite of the asparagus before continuing. “Also, I felt bad for pushing you the last few weeks”. You admitted.
“It’s not really a big deal, you were just doing your job. I promised you the exclusive, and I didn’t fulfill my end of the bargain. I’m sorry”.
“Wow, an apology from Ken Sato. Can I quote you on that”? You joked.
“Haha, funny”. He rolled his eyes as he finished the last of his rice. “The food’s good. Y’know if you were my personal chef instead of my interviewer, I would’ve probably tolerated you more”.
“Aaaand you ruined it”. You begin to get up out of your seat.
“Gee, didn’t know there was a moment between us”.
While you were collecting the dirty plates, you both felt the ground shake. At first you thought you were just imagining things, but the ground shook again, and the lights were flickering. You try to maintain your balance as the ground repeatedly shook.
“Oh my God, was that an earthquake”? You begin to panic.
Kenji quickly got up from his seat and began to run towards the basement.
“Ken, where are you going”? You yelled.
“I’ll be right back. Stay where you are”. He instructs. The next thing you know, he disappears into the basement. The ceiling began to crack and you immediately took cover underneath the table.
A few seconds later, the shaking stops and the light stops flickering. But Ken was nowhere to be found. The elevator leading to the basement was still open. While you were told to not go into the basement, deep down you wanted to know if he was okay.
Suddenly, you hear a crash and yelling coming from the basement. With no hesitation, you ran into the elevator and made your way down to the basement.
“Ken”? You ran out of the elevator. But before you could start looking for him, you ran into what you thought was a wall. As you stumbled down and into your butt, you hear high pitch laughter.
“Not funny”! You yelled. “Ken Sato, whatever BS you’re pulling right now, you need to cut it”-
You look up at the supposed wall and your jaw drops. Your eyes met the eyes of a 20 foot lizard baby who was happily chirping at you.
⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺
A/N: Part 4 and 5 will be uploaded on Wednesday and Thursday Respectively.
Likes, Comment and Reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be on the tag list, lemme know! :)
⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺
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⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺
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