#okay that last thought was painful and i love it

[loulovingho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ｖｅｒｙ ｂａｄ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!wooyoung x chubby!fem!stripper!reader, other members mentioned

♡ Genre: smut

♡ Summary: When your best friend ropes you into working a bachelor party with her on your day off you're positive you know exactly what to expect. A bunch of gross drunk guys trying to put their hands on you. Instead you stumble into the exact opposite situation, finding yourself drawn to one man in particular who has you doing something you never thought you would.

♡ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: woo offers you money for sex and you take it, tattooed woo, drinking, partying, this man really likes licking you, low-key body worship, teasing, pentrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, tit sucking, manhandling, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, a lil dom woo if you squint, a lil pain play, pet names (good girl, pretty, beautiful, cutie, baby), and that's about it babes.

♡ A/N: What can I say? I love Wooyoung. I love mafia boys. I love thicc strippers. Mix all that with a lengthy Megan thee Stallion playlist and this is where I ended up. As always, I hope my chubby hot girls out there enjoy this. Love yeeew ♡

This was supposed to be your night off. You should be bed rotting in your pajamas while you shovel snacks into your mouth and binge your favorite K-drama. Instead you’re half naked in the penthouse suite of some posh high rise straddling the lap of a pretty dark haired boy who just knocked back a shot of tequila and is seconds away from licking the salt from your cleavage.

You let out a giggle at how his tongue tickles as it drags along your skin. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your sparkly pink acrylics swirling in the silky strands as you tilt his head back to let him bite down on the lime wedged between your plush lips. He grins from ear to ear, arms looping around your waist to bring you closer. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. If his cock straining against his pants didn’t give away how badly he’d love for that to happen, that lust filled glimmer in his eyes would.

When he sucks the juice from the lime you pluck it from his mouth, delicately licking the last drop from his bottom lip. He lets out a groan too low for anyone else to hear over the music that fills the penthouse but you hear it. You feel it.

“So, what’s your name again, sugar?” you ask, tugging at his hair a little harder. His eyes nearly roll back at how satisfying the pain is. 

“Wooyoung, sugar. What’s yours?” he whispers, sliding his hands down to cup your ass. You’re wearing a thong, leaving almost nothing between the warmth of his palms and the smooth skin of your ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze and you let out an airy moan that falls on his tongue as sweet as candy. 

“Mmmm” you hum, grinding down on his clothed cock just enough to make it twitch, “Be a good boy tonight and maybe I’ll tell you.” 

Your best friend Anya flicks at one of the silver star charms decorating your hair as she walks by hand in hand with an equally pretty boy you’re sure you heard someone call “Yeosang” earlier.  

“She’s not being a tease is she?” she jokes.

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting her hand away, “I’m not a tease.” 

Wooyoung only shrugs, “She is a tease but that’s okay. I like it.” He squeezes your ass harder and a little squeak escapes you. 

“Hey! I said you had to be good” you scold, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. 

He releases his hold on you, fingertips petting the small of your back, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

“You swear?” you pout, enjoying how easily he’s gotten wrapped around your finger. 

Wooyoung raises a pinky and hooks it around yours, “Pinky swear.”

For a fleeting moment you catch yourself falling for his charms. It’s difficult not to when he’s this hot. In fact, every man in this room is drop dead gorgeous. When Anya first asked you to work this bachelor party with her you were dreading it. Bachelor parties are usually filled with drunk, messy men who can barely string a sentence together let alone be charming.

It’s always good money but you weren’t in the mood to be gawked at by a bunch of asshole frat boys or handsy businessmen so you had every intention of telling her no. You much preferred your bed to a second of that but after all the times she’s had your back you couldn’t bring yourself not to do her this favor so you threw on your cutest lingerie, strapped on your stilettos, and got your cute ass over here. 

Much to your surprise and relief this is nothing like other bachelor parties you’ve worked. Of course they wanna see you naked. They wanna touch you, watch you dance for them. That’s the same with every man. But this group is so generous, so sweet, so willing to tend to the two of you that you’ve almost forgotten that you were working.

“Could you be a sweetheart and grab me a drink?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, “My throat’s a little dry and someone drank my last shot of tequila.” That someone being him. 

Wooyoung laughs, lifting you off of him and placing you carefully at his side, “Of course. Anything for you. What do you want?”

As Wooyoung rises from the couch you swing your feet up and he catches you by the ankles, slowly massaging your legs. You shrug, nibbling at your lip while his hands slip closer to your pillowy thighs, “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you…” he nods, his fingers sinking into your thighs, “Okay. I can do that.” He leans forward, kissing the inside of your knees before he wanders off to get you a drink.

Lying back on the couch you catch an inverted view of Anya chatting up Yeosang and finding any excuse to feel his muscles through his shirt. After a bit another man slips in beside her. You’re able to eavesdrop close enough to hear her say his name. Jongho. You’re sure he’s the youngest of the group. He’s quiet, difficult to read, but such a cutie. 

Speaking of cuties, you wonder how the man of the night is doing. Hongjoong—that’s the one name you absolutely had to remember—he’s the one getting married in a few days and you must admit his fiance’s one lucky girl. He was kind when the two of you arrived, offering you drinks and making sure you settled in fine, but he’s acted so innocent all night.

You’re sure he still hasn’t moved from that spot in the corner where he’s been sitting nursing the same drink all night. Every few minutes he checks his phone. You’re sure it’s to text his fiance. Some girls might be offended by that but you can’t bring yourself to care. You find it quite sweet actually and you get paid either way.

“Aaah…” you gasp at the sensation of something cool kissing your skin. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look up to find Wooyoung standing over you balancing an ice cold glass of something on your belly. 

He giggles at the shock on your face, sliding it up your body to watch how your back arches in response. “For you, pretty girl.”

Carefully you take the glass, admiring the electric blue syrup swirling around inside of it. You raise it to your lips, sipping at the sweet liquid. Wooyoung kneels down beside you, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear as you drink. He studies your side profile in silent fascination, admiring all of the finer details of your face. It’s a cliche thought, he knows this, but he can’t help wondering how such a delicately beautiful creature ended up in a line of work like this. Then again, with a face like this and a body like that, why wouldn’t you make men pay to be in your presence?

“How’s it taste?” he asks, only barely breaking himself from his trance.

His voice is low and dripping with need. His breath skims your neck like a trail of kisses and you catch yourself wishing that it were. Your pulse races, the tingling between your thighs growing too intense to ignore. You turning a guy on at work? It happens everyday. A guy turning you on? That’s never happened before, not during a single night on the job, but there’s a first time for everything isn’t there?

“You tell me,” you say, offering him a sip. As you do so your hand trembles enough for some of the alcohol to spill over the brim and onto your fingers. 

Wooyoung locks eyes with you, deep pools of brown pulling you into his gaze. Setting the glass down on the floor, he takes you by the wrist, gently stroking it as he presses your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, twirling around each and every finger to lick them clean. You never could’ve predicted that something like this would get you wet but here you are. That tingling between your thighs? It’s unbearable now. You squeeze them together, bringing your attention to how wet he’s managed to get you. You hate it and love it all at once. 

“You taste delicious” he grins, kissing your inner wrist. 

It makes you shiver and you pull your hand back, fighting to get a hold on yourself, “I thought we were talking about the drink, not me.”

Wooyoung shrugs, running his fingers down your side, “I don’t know, were we?” 

You should stop him but lust has you locked in place, letting his hand venture below your waist without a word of protest on your part. He squeezes the plush of your thigh, tucking a thumb between them so that it hovers a mere inch away from the wet fabric clinging to your warmth. In this moment everyone else in the room fades away. Even the music seems as if it’s traveled miles to reach your ears. You can only focus on each other. The way your breath hitches the closer he gets to stroking your clit through the lace. The way his eyes seem to twinkle as he watches you grow more and more needy for him as the seconds pass. His thumb’s so close you can almost feel it. Something in you tells you to shift your body down on the couch a little bit, close the distance and give yourself that relief you want so badly. 

“You didn’t pay for that” you snap, shooing his hand away, “That’s not on the menu, babe.” 

Without missing a beat Wooyoung retrieves his phone from his back pocket, swiping on the screen a few times before handing it over to you. It’s a CashApp screen and the keyboard’s already up for you to type your name into the search bar.

“Can I request something off the menu then?”

You shoot upright on the couch, shocked by what you see on the screen. “You’re joking” you laugh, motioning to hand his phone back.

Wooyoung stops you before you can, his expression more serious than you’ve seen it all night. “I want you.”

“You can’t afford me.”

“Try me…”

You wait for him to give it up but he doesn’t waver, not in the slightest. You huff, finding your account and tapping in an amount triple your fee for dancing. “There. You happy?” 

Wooyoung happily takes his phone back, hitting a single button before presenting you with the screen. “As long as you are.”

“Holy shit” you gasp, eyes glued to the screen. He actually did it. He sent you the money. Truth be told if he kept up all the teasing you probably would’ve slept with him before the night was over anyway but the fact that he was willing to pay for it? That’s a twist you didn’t see coming. 

“You…you’re crazy” you giggle, cupping that wonderfully defined face of his, “Fucking insane.”

Wooyoung doesn’t seem offended by that in the least. In fact, he takes it as a compliment. “But you like it…” he grins as he stands back up, sweeping your drink up with one hand and extending the other to you, “Don’t you?” 

You stare at him defiantly, refusing to respond. Not that you need to. The answer’s written all over your face in that faint smile you couldn’t chase away if you tried. A smile that lingers there as he takes you by the hand, guiding you down the nearby hallway and into the master bedroom of the penthouse.

The rest of the penthouse is gorgeous, the sort of place you only see in design magazines, and the master bedroom’s no different. It’s dimly lit with soft white light emitting from a sleek Swedish lamp in the corner. The pristine white walls are adorned with intricate paintings, all originals. All of the furniture’s designer, most notably the king size bed positioned across the room opposite ceiling to floor windows that overlook the city. You’re up much too high for anyone to see you but it feels like you can see the whole world from here. 

Wooyoung quickly takes notice of how charmed you are by the view. “You can check it out if you want,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, “I’m not in a rush.” He can’t hold back his amusement at how giddy you are rushing over to the window to take in the sights. You’re quite possibly the cutest thing ever. 

“Whose place is this anyway?” you ask, unable to peel yourself away from the twinkling lights of the city below. Usually you steer clear of personal questions—it’s better that way—but something about Wooyoung makes you comfortable enough to ask. 

Chugging the rest of your drink, he lays back on the bed, glaring up at the spiraling design on the ceiling. “You remember the tall one? Kinda goofy?”

You run down a mental list of the boys at the party and narrow it down to two. “Which one?”

Wooyoung nearly chokes laughing, “Which one? Oh my god.”

“What?” you pout, truly not meaning any harm, “There’s two of them.”

“Mingi, the one with the deep voice. This is his place. He moved in, I don’t know, a month ago. Nice isn’t it?”

“Do you all live like this?” There you go again, asking questions you know you shouldn’t.

Wooyoung turns to look at you, his reflection immediately capturing your attention. “For the most part, yeah.”

You spin around to face him, on the verge of melting under the heat of his gaze, “Are you a drug dealer or something, Woo?”

He lets that question linger in the air, gesturing for you to come to him. “Come here, beautiful. You’re too far away.”

You skip over to the bed, your body jiggling so deliciously that he’s tempted to send you back over to the window just to see you come back again. Hopping onto the bed, you throw one leg across his waist, straddling his lap. “Better?”

He cups your cheek, bringing you in so that you’re face to face, his lips skimming yours once more. “Better.” 

“You didn’t answer my question” you whisper, rocking your hips against a bulge that’s even harder for you than before. 

Wooyoung loops an arm around your waist, keeping you flush against him, “If I answer your question will you tell me your name?”

“Mmhmm” you whine at the friction between you.

The fabric of your panties is flimsy enough that you can feel the texture of his pants—the pressure of his cock straining against them. It makes your mind go fuzzy. Wooyoung knows this because you’re doing the same to him.

“I’m a very bad man who does very bad things but not that. Not anymore” he confesses, flipping you onto your back in one effortless motion.

Any attempt you could’ve made to respond is silenced when his lips finally crash into yours. You teased him for hours, taking every opportunity to almost kiss him knowing from the start how badly he wanted you. Now that he can finally have you—satisfy the hunger that’s been building inside all night—he’s ravenous, holding nothing back.

“Your turn” he whispers between your lips, flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion, not once breaking the kiss. 

The room’s still spinning when you part your lips to answer his question. As a rule you always give a fake name—one of the pretty ones that you and Anya came up with to stop creeps from finding you out in the real world—but for some reason you can’t lie to Wooyoung. With him kissing you like he wants to devour your very soul, the only possible thing you can spill out is the truth.

Wooyoung kisses his way down your neck, inhaling the sugary scent of your perfume as he drags his tongue between your breasts. “Such a pretty name. I like it.”

“I…I like your name too” you stutter, fingers combing through his hair, “Wooyoung’s a pretty name.”

Catching the fabric of your top between his teeth, he tugs harshly, causing the knots holding it together to slip. Your lush breasts fall free from your top, the tiny hairs on your arm standing up at the feeling of your stiff buds brushing the fabric of his shirt. 

“Mmm, say it again” he groans, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple, “It sounds so fucking good when you say it.” 

Taking your bud between his teeth, he sucks harshly at it, treating you to a combination of pain and pleasure that’s nothing short of addictive. Wedging a knee between your legs, he pushes your thighs apart, reaching down to knot your panties in his fist. Your body jerks as he snatches them away, leaving your dripping pussy exposed. Slipping two fingers between your folds, he spreads you open, letting his middle finger slide back and forth across your clit. 

“Wooyoung…mmph…” you moan, arching into his touch, “Woo…aah”. 

Wooyoung dips his fingers down to your clenching hole, stretching you open enough to give you a taste of what your body’s begging for.

“You want more, baby?” he teases, drooling around your swollen nipple. 

“Yes, please” you beg, your breath hitching as his fingers, already slick with your arousal, push into you. 

His movements are slow at first. Two fingers sliding in and out of you, gently stroking your pulsing walls. Your walls are so velvety and warm that he could spend all night petting them. No pussy’s ever felt this good wound around his fingers. His cock aches at the thought of how heavenly it must be to be inside of you. But that’s not truly where his head is right now. He’s solely focused on sneaking a third finger into your pussy, quickening his pace to make sure you never stop making all these pretty noises.

Wooyoung’s fingers are like magic and he’s insanely attentive, effortlessly picking up on your sweet spots and hitting them every single time. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, pushing you so close to your high that your lips are quivering. Wooyoung may be a very bad man who does very bad things but he’s so so good to you.

You tug at his hair, wanting another kiss but unable to form the words to ask for one. Guessing what you want—he wants it too—he leans up and pulls you into another kiss. Your lips collide right on the edge of your orgasm, his tongue dancing with yours as the euphoria hits and you clench around his fingers. 

“Good girl” he praises, “Are you always this gorgeous when you cum or is this just for me?”

His admiration only heightens the intensity of your orgasm. That coupled with the fact that he hasn’t let up on you has you ready to fall apart right here and now. After a couple seconds you figured he’d slow down, give you some time to recover, but no, he just keeps going.

“One more for me” he whispers, bringing his thumb up to rub your clit. 

“Woo, I can’t. Too much” you whine, grabbing onto his shirt hard enough to tear it.

He doesn’t care if you do. He meant it when he said you’re gorgeous when you cum. Your faces are perfection and your body’s glowing. When you look like this you could tear up everything he owns and he’d let you get away with it. 

“You can do it, baby. Just look at you. You’re already so close again, aren’t you?” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

A split second. That’s all you get to come down, if you can call it that, before the pressure’s building again and you’re coming so hard it has your ears ringing. This time he shows you mercy, gradually slowing his motions, showering you in the sweetest kisses while you come down. Climbing off of you, he stands at the foot of the bed, licking his drenched fingers.

“I was right. You are delicious.” 

You roll your eyes, trying hard not to give away how sickeningly hot you find him. “Are you always like this?”

There it is again. That mischievous grin that he’s been flashing you all night. The one you can blame for getting you into this situation to begin with. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a tattooed chest you just can’t wait to dig your nails into.

“Like what?” he asks, undoing his belt. 

“Like a menace” is what you want to say but you can’t. Wooyoung’s pants are at his ankles now and he has the nerve to stand there like he doesn’t know how glorious his cock is. You don’t need a fully lit room to see how flawless, how beautifully veined, how totally made for you it is. 

“Like what, cutie?” he repeats, grabbing your ankles and dragging you to the edge of the bed. Tucking his hands behind your knees, he pushes your legs back, spreading them open to push the head of his cock up against your twitching pussy. 

You moan at the satisfying warmth of his arousal coating your slit, hips pressing down to stretch yourself with the tip.

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m just so…so…”

“So pretty…” he grunts, driving his length into you so deep that you feel it in your chest. Every word he says is accompanied by a thrust that rocks you to your core, little dots of color decorating your vision. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy when you take my cock.”

Your pussy’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s enough to make his head spin and his knees weak. His cock’s never indulged in something this decadent. It’s so good—maybe too good. When you first walked through the door tonight Wooyoung knew it would be. Something about you said you were sitting on a pussy like gold and he wasn’t wrong. Not even a little bit.

You can’t even pretend that you don’t feel the same way. You’re bouncing back against his cock, clamping down on him like you’ll die if he pulls out. Every stroke of his cock floods your senses with pleasure, worsening the moisture leaking from your needy hole onto the expensive sheets. It’s so overstimulating. The length. The thickness. How he throbs in response to every flutter of your walls, filling you up exactly how you need to be filled.

Shifting angles, he mercilessly drills into your sweet spot, making you lose control of your already weakened limbs. You can’t raise your hips. You can’t bounce back on him. You can’t do anything at all besides lay there and take every inch of cock that he feeds you. It’s only a matter of time before your breath’s hitching again, that airy feeling overtaking your body. 

“Look at me” he commands when your head falls back, glossy eyes rolling to the back of your head. Letting one of your legs drop, he slaps a hand down on the softness of your belly and grips it hard enough to sting. 

“Mmph, Woo…” you moan, teary eyes finding his gaze as your nails rake across the sheets. There’s a darkness in his expression that intimidates you as much as it turns you on.

A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of your broken voice moaning his name. “You look at me when you cum or I’ll stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you, baby?” 

You shake your head, pouting cutely. You make him weaker than you can imagine but that’s not enough for him. He knows you can do better than that. 

Slowing down to an agonizingly slow pace, he drags his fingers down your belly to play with your clit. “I don’t believe you. I think you want me to stop.”

“No, don’t stop” you whine, rocking up and down his length, “I won’t look away. I promise. Fuck me, Youngie, please.”

Wooyoung folds for you in an instant, fucking into you hard enough that the headboard’s rocking. You reach out for his hand and he gives it to you, fingers interlacing with yours as your high takes you under.

This is the third time he’s seen you cum—the third time he’s watched you moan and arch and cry out for him—and each time’s more perfect than the last. Good thing this isn’t the last. In fact, it’s far from it. You’re his for the night and by the time he’s done with you he’ll have every face you make, every desperate little moan, committed to memory. 

[klausysworld]

Left But Never Forgotten

Upon the Mikaelson's return to New Orleans, they each had their worries. Klaus was focused on his pregnant werewolf and the deep rooted need to be a king. Rebekah desperately wanted her past lover, Marcel back but also felt the need to protect her niece to be. Elijah was supposed to be concentrating on his brother and Hayley as they expected their child, or the mess that the divided factions of supernaturals in New Orleans was but instead, he was thinking of her.

Y/N.

He hadn't seen her since leaving New Orleans a hundred years ago. She and Marcel had been presumed dead, nothing had prepared him for seeing her face again.

Feeling her palm cup his cheek and her thumb stroking the prickle of stubble left on his skin. She was so similar and yet so different to the last time. Before she had been a princess, now she was a Queen.

Even when the Mikaelson's moved into the abattoir and his room was just beside hers, she still felt too far away.

Elijah felt as if he were just watching her life go by without him, it made him sick. He lacked the usual hunger of a vampire, the need to kill or hurt. He lost his passion to protect and guide.

He just wanted her.

Everyone knew that, except her.

Nobody understood the pain she and Marcel went through. They waited day in and day out for their family to come home, to tell them that it was okay and that Mikael wouldn't torture them again, that their nightmares weren't real and they were safe. They rebuilt the city brick by brick, cleaning away the ashes left behind but they still didn't come back. So they moved on. They worked together and they got stronger and they earned their power and their places and then they finally came back and just took it from them like it was nothing.

And Elijah had barely said five words to her.

He just stared, but whenever his lips parted no words would leave him. Elijah didn't realise she took that as something else. But for Y/N, she had been hoping to hear his voice for a century, crying for him in her sleep and now he was here and she felt like he didn't even care enough to talk to her.

She could have thought he didn't care at all if it weren't for the way he looked at her. The look of love in those deep eyes of his. That same look she used to see each morning and night.

Y/N wanted him to know that she still wanted him to look at her like that, she still wanted him like that.

So she tried to show him. A lingering touch hear or there, just on his arm or his shoulder. Or she'd bring him a cup of tea the way he used to like it, ask him about the literature he was reading most currently but he could barely get five words out.

So she tried not to focus on words, instead she gave him a kiss and hoped it was enough. It was.

Elijah hadn't exactly been expecting her to suddenly grab his face and push her lips against his but most definitely wasn't complaining.

Both hands lifted and cupped her face like all those times years ago, kissing her deeply like he'd craved to for so long. He needed her hands in his hair, to ruin the perfect facade he'd been wearing.

His tie was clutched into her palm and tugged gently, leading him with her to his room. He followed her mindlessly onto his bed, crawling over her and keeping his tongue with hers.

The desperation was so strong.

Elijah could feel the fabric of his tie slip from his neck. The buttons on his shirt slowly revealing more and more of his chest, he wanted to rip the clothes from her body but he couldn't stop holding her beautiful face.

It was when his belt was unclasped that he finally pulled away, looking down at her with lust blown pupils. His eyes swirled with that darkness that she enjoyed, her fingers traced the veins beneath his eyes before her thumb slid over his fang.

"I really missed you." She confessed to him and he softened, his hands finally dropping to her hips to pull her close.

"I missed you too, every day." He uttered, eyes flicking between both of hers.

"But you never came back..." She whispered and he looked down.

"I thought you were gone...I saw you, you looked...you didn't look alive. I couldn't bare coming back to the place that did that to you. I couldn't stand the memory of your body strung up like that." He told her shakily, his hands desperate to keep her with him this time.

"Marcel and I had to rip ourselves free of those nails, Elijah. I could hear you, you would have ran whether I was alive or not-"

"Don't you ever think that." He whispered, his hold tight now, both arms round her waist and her body in his lap. "I would never knowingly leave you for dead." He promised.

Her body rest against him, her face against his broad chest and warming his cold skin.

"I love you, Y/N. I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you." He murmured, lips kissing her shoulder gently after. "You mean more to me than anything. You're family."

"Don't lie to me, Elijah. I know I'll never be your family, I don't think anybody can truly become a Mikaelson. Hayley's the closest anyone can get and that's because she had Klaus's baby and we both know I can't give you a child." She practically whimpered.

Elijah just looked at her for a short while, guilt in his gaze. He could remember when she was human, when she didn't yet know he was vampire. She wanted them to have three children, when she found out he couldn't she thought maybe there could be a spell, there was still hope. However when she turned too, she knew that it was a useless thought and gave up altogether.

They had considered adoption but Y/N worried that if the child wasn't biologically a Mikaelson that they wouldn't truly love or protect the child. Not any of the Mikaelsons.

Of course she'd never verbally expressed that fear but Elijah could tell. Knowing that Klaus could procreate and he couldn't was difficult for him, just like he knew it was difficult for Rebekah knowing her brother could have a baby but she also couldn't.

But seeing Y/N hurt by it too was an extra hit to his heart.

After all these years, he still dreamt of their family. He'd be a much better father than Mikael, and she'd be a much better mother than Esther.

"It's not you who can't give me a child, Y/N." He murmured. "It's me, my fault. You can't blame yourself, I turned you and I took that possibility away but it will not ever change how I feel for you. You are my family, I'd carry you with me for eternity."

It was just difficult to believe with how that family behaved towards outsiders.

"Okay." Y/N whispered, it was clear she was only relenting to try not form an argument and Elijah wanted to be more reassuring but he knew it would only escalate things.

His hand reached to touch hers, hold hers.

"Allow me to court you again." He murmured, wanting to show her their potential again but she laughed softly and shook her head.

"I don't want us back at square one. I want it to be how it was before." She told him, smiling softly. It warmed him.

"I'd like that." He nodded, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "But I still want it to be special, I haven't been able to cherish you for so long now."

"I suppose I won't stop you from a gift or two." She teased and he hummed.

She looked back down at his bare chest and sighed, she'd missed this.

He pulled her back to his chest, coddling her to him and stroking her back lovingly.

The skin to skin wasn't something Elijah experienced often, he only allowed it when he truly loved someone. His mind and body craved it.

Y/N knew how deprived he was right from childhood. So, just like she used to, she pulled her shirt from her body and let the skin of her upper body lay against his.

"You know that I love you?" He whispered and she nodded.

"I just wish you'd talk to me more, I can't be with you if you can't even hold a normal conversation with me Elijah..."

"I know, my sweet. I was just so struck when I saw you and I feared that you could have moved on...with Marcel." He hesitated and she scoffed.

"Oh? And after he was making out with Rebekah? That didn't clue you in, no?" She teased and he looked down with an embarrassed smile.

"I was shy I suppose." He admitted and she smiled.

"You used to be shy all the time." She whispered, stroking his hand and leaning up to kiss the corner of his lips like she used to.

He leaned forward and leant his forehead against hers, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I."

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What should I focus on right now for long-lasting good vibes ?

When I leave Juice WRLD, I'm back to pink hair !

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PILE 1

Sweetheart, here’s what your heart needs to hear:

This moment is about embracing the magic of you. You’re a radiant Queen, with warmth in your soul and power in your every move. Taking this time for yourself isn’t stepping away from love—it’s leaning deeper into the one you have with your own spirit.

You’ve found something beautiful, something healthy and whole, but it’s okay to let it breathe. You’re not losing anything; you’re creating space to grow into the love that feels so new. Focus on nurturing your passions, tending to your dreams, and grounding yourself in your own brilliance.

The love will wait—it’s strong enough to do that. And in the meantime, remember: you are more than worthy of all the goodness coming your way.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all took a fat L in your finance. It could be that maybe you were born in a poor family or maybe you maxed out your credit card at a super young age. Another scenario is comin through, some of y’all were financial abuse by your own parents. You were here paying one of our family members' medical bills while paying for your school. The situation of your family was a wake up call for you because you never knew they were in so much debt (And they fucking expected you to saved them… let  me move on … I said I was going to be more gentle). Any ways most people would have scramble under so much pressure but you were determined to rise the fuck up. You motherfucking did ! CONGRATS !!!!!! Since you know how it feels to live in such a deprived state you put everything in your power not to fall back into it. You have built quite the financial literacy. Unlike your family you are sitting hoping for a miracle, you prefer having control over your own life. You let go off a good suitor that was going to give you stability. The ring, the house and the kids but you want more. You spent the last year living a basic life to save you and your family. Now you want to experiment with your looks, activities and learn more about your own desire. Don’t hate yourself because you choose’’ you’’ and sometimes choosing is not about a reason but a feeling. Believe me if they said they are going to wait… they are probably waiting. Don’t feel guilty because they are rooting for you and your happiness.

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PILE 2

Bestie, let me tell you something magical:

Focus on living in the beauty of your truth, unapologetically. Let your heart be guided by clarity, not illusions. You've grown, you've blossomed, and not everyone deserves to witness the garden you've nurtured. Some will see your glow and mistake it for something they can dim, but you know better.

Surround yourself with those who celebrate your growth, not those who sulk in the shadow of it. It’s okay to leave behind the ones who can’t appreciate the masterpiece you’ve become. Their energy was never meant to shape your future—it was meant to teach you what to protect.

Right now, bestie, the vibes are all about you. Shine boldly, love fiercely, and walk away from anything that makes your soul feel heavy. You’re stepping into your best self, and it’s time to embrace the joy of that without looking back.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all just moved to your new house. You may be in decorating mode, making sure to buy all the essentials, making sure to organize the bills and if you need to renovate mama/papi is turning to DIY Bob the Builder. First of all, motherfucking CONGRATS! Moving in this economy is like one of the biggest achievements. You are advised to go hangout in your community doing something that resonates with you. Whether going to the movies, reading club, knitting classes or walking around in the mall or the park near your house. Because you may be feeling lonely and you hate going out on your own because it is making a matter worse but somebody is going to strike up a conversation with you. Y’all going to enter a new friend group that's going to feel like family. Head up Pile  2 the same way they are open about their emotions let them in because I swear all they want to do is know you, see you and love you. Also this feeling of wanting community may be new because you got so accustomed to being the ‘’weird kid’’ that nobody really wants to deal with but thank God you did not change because your soul family is one greeting away. 

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PILE 3

Darling, let me wrap you in some truth:

This moment is yours to reclaim. You’re standing tall, blooming in your own power like the Empress you are—creative, abundant, and unstoppable. Staying firm in your decision to hold that no-contact boundary isn’t just strength; it’s self-love in its purest form.

You’re no longer chasing love that left you questioning your worth. You’ve grown beyond that, and now you’re building a life where your heart beats freely, unburdened by the echoes of what was. Focus on your business, your passions, your empire. Every step you take is a step toward the future you deserve.

Let them wonder about your glow from afar. You’re not here to dim your light for anyone who couldn’t see it before. Keep shining, bestie. Your journey is just beginning, and it’s a masterpiece in the making.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

First congrats on your pregnancy. Y’all always wanted a kid and you actually thought that the father had his shit together but when it comes to standing for your baby or your ex. Is always going to your bundle of joy. On the other hand I feel like y’all are never going to do it again. Like pregnancy is not a fun experience. Y’all are not living a traumatic experience but just feeling uncomfortable all the time … ain’t it baby. Also you are so ready to meet your little one.

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[animeomegas]

blowing some boys' back out please x3 your choice of 'em

that's 2 imprecise help neji gaara, sasuke, and minato? :3 bonus if the alpha is big in size. I'll be 🍷 anon if not already taken ! mwah

(Hey, welcome 🍷 anon! Let's see~)

N-sfw under cut

Let's set the scene!

It was a rough night last night, enthusiastic, hot, and very heavy.

And some soreness is totally normal after nights like this, especially when you consider your... greater than average size *cough*

But when your omega gets up the next morning, it's clear that the soreness is more than normal.

He's waddling around the house, holding himself gingerly, still kind of dazed from last night.

He probably has some emerging bruises in sensitive places, a few pulled muscles, too.

Maybe you were a little too enthusiastic 😅

But how does he react?

Neji

He is deeply unimpressed by you.

He's sending you dirty looks, blaming you for his current condition and conveniently forgetting how much he was begging for it to be harder last night.

"How am I supposed to go shopping like this? 😠"

You better be pampering him to say sorry.

He's going to settle down on the couch and you'll be doing all the chores and massaging the sore parts of his body.

Bring him snacks and butter him up with lots of lovey dovey apologies and he'll forgive you.

And then ask for that kind of sex again the next week smh.

Gaara

Concerned boy is concerned :(

Rough sex is extremely out of character for him, and so something must have triggered it. Perhaps extremely heightened emotions?

I'm not sure, but he's regretting it so much :(

He knew rough sex was a bad idea. He kind of feels bad about the whole thing.

For a shinobi, his pain tolerance is pretty low, but he still has to get to work because he has a village to run...

He keeps his composure remarkably well at work, but he goes home early and he expects lots of cuddles and kisses and gentle affection.

It's one of the only sex things that he won't overshare with his siblings because he's genuinely embarrassed by injuries that occurred from his perceived lack of control. He feels like he should know better.

Give him lots of love, okay?

Sasuke

He is SOOOOO embarrassed.

And he's pissed at you. But he won't say that because he's too busy pretending that nothing is wrong.

This lasts for all of 5 minutes before he realises that pretending he's fine means leaving the house like this, and he'd rather DIE.

So, the man who would try to train or take a mission while literally delirious with illness, actually takes a day off and hides in bed.

A bed that he kicks you out of by the way.

(but you can probably sneak back in with some well placed nuzzles)

What is he even so embarrassed about?

People knowing he has sex? Kinda, yes.

How fucking ridiculous he looks waddling around? Absolutely.

Not being strong enough to physically take his alpha without injury? Yes...

DO NOT tease him!

Just apologise once and then make him breakfast and don't bring it up ever again 😅

Minato

He's a bit sheepish about the situation, because he remembers begging for it to be harder, and he should have known better.

Oh well! Now he knows better, and well, it was pretty hot.

He gets a bit turned on thinking about it, which probably hurts, so that train of thought dies quickly.

He will probably tease you about being so big and rough lol

To be honest though, he's totally fine, and he'll say "you don't have to do that" everytime you try to apologise or make it up to him.

He would appreciate you running him a bath and making him some food though, just to show him that you love him.

Let's just hope that he's not teaching that day 🙏🏻 Because he is not as subtle as he thinks.

Or working as Hokage... Because his guard definitely know how he spent yesterday evening 😏

[gnabnahc317cb97]

Cucking Part 3 (the morning after)

Bang Chan x Jeongin x female reader

Word count: 2k

A/n: Most of this came to me last night at 4am when I was trying to go to bed and I just HAD to write it! LMFAO! @hityoulikebahng here's your McDonalds in bed love!

Warnings: Strong language/swearing, suggestive, m2m kissing, mentions reader being sore from the night before (not sure if that's a warning.) I think that's it! This is just a super fluffy, funny, day after interaction between them.

When you woke up the next morning your whole body ached from everything that had happened the night before. The ache made you not want to move a single inch from your spot. Unfortunately, the alarm on Chan’s phone that he was sleeping through the last ten minutes was starting to drive you mad and forced you to. You laid there, face down, and flopped your arm over to reach for the phone and turn it off, accidentally smacking Chan in the face instead. 

“OW! My nose!” You opened your eyes but didn’t lift your head from its spot on your pillow. 

“Ohhhh baby! I’m so sorry, I was reaching for the alarm. I love your nose so much! Is it okay?” You said sleepily, words muffled by the pillow your face was still half buried in. Chan rubbed his nose, blinking the tears from his eyes and reached for his phone to turn the alarm off. He turned over and looked at you once it had been silenced. 

“It’s okay, just was NOT expecting to get woke up THAT way.” You made a pouty face at him as best you could being faceplanted in a pillow. 

“I’m sorry baby.” You whinned. Chan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. 

“It’s okay baby girl.” He kissed your cheek and gave you a tight squeeze. Even though you loved it when Chan hugged you tightly, your body was so sore. You couldn’t help the groan you let out in pain. 

“Ughhhh not so tight Channie. I’m achy today.” Chan loosened his grip and kissed your lips this time. 

“Sorry my love.” You shook your head. 

“No, it’s okay. I just hope you don’t have any plans for me today because I’m not moving one fucking inch from this spot.” Chan rubbed the tip of his nose against yours and shook his head. 

“You don’t have to. I made sure we didn’t make any plans for today.” You hummed nuzzling in close to Chan’s warm chest. Then unexpected signs of life came from the maknae on the other side of the bed. 

“Is anyone else as fucking hungry as I am right now?” You and Chan started laughing.  

“YES!” You both yelled in unison. 

“Let’s order breakfast from McDonalds!” Jeongin suggested.” Chan lifted his head, looking over at him. 

“You buying?” Jeongin finally lifted his head from the pillow he’d had his face buried in and looked at Chan. 

“I thought you were.” He cracked a smile as his foxlike eyes narrowed at his hyung. Chan gave him a challenging look back. 

“Gwi bawi bo?” Jeongin nodded sleepy and propped himself up on one of his elbows holding out his fist. Chan did the same. 

“Gwwwiiii baaawiii bo!” Chan shouted. Jeongin threw scissors and Chan threw paper which Jeongin knew Chan had a habit of doing. 

“SHIT!” Chan swore and the maknae laughed. 

“Hahaha! I! WIN! I want a sausage and egg biscuit, 2 hashbrowns, and a small black coffee.” Jeongin flopped back down on the bed basking in his victory and Chan shook his head. 

“What do you want baby girl?” You rolled over onto your back and thought a minute. 

“Get me a sausage egg and cheese Mcmuffin, a hashbrown and an orange juice please baby.” Chan nodded and pecked your lips then grabbed his phone, pulled up the delivery app and ordered everyone’s food. When he was done he sat his phone back on the table by the bed and curled up with you again to wait on the food. You opened your eyes when Chan wrapped his arms around you, spooning you. When you did you saw Jeongin on the other side of the bed alone, laying on his back, hands tucked behind his head. You stretched one of your achy legs towards him and nudged his side with your cold foot. 

“Come join the cuddle puddle Innie!” You reached out with grabby hands and Jeongin scooted closer to you so you could wrap your arms around his body and spoon him. The three of you laid there like that until Chan got the notification that your food had been delivered to the door man down in the lobby. 

“Food’s here! Who’s getting it?” Chan asked. You burrowed deeper into the bed. 

“I told you I wasn’t moving one inch today...” Chan and Jeongin lifted their heads at the same time looking at each other. Jeongin put up a fist and Chan raised his. 

“Gwwwiiii baaawiii BO!” Jeongin threw scissors again but this time Chan threw rock. 

“YESSS!” Chan shouted and Jeongin groaned out. 

“What the hell you ALWAYS throw paper!” Chan laughed. 

“Sorry about your luck maknae! Not this time!” Jeongin let out another dramatic moan and you started pushing his backside with your feet, pushing him towards the edge of the bed. 

“Go on Innieee I’m hungryyyy!” He got up and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching. 

“Okay okay princess, I’m going!” You laughed at the use of the pet name again and his tone, then stretched and spread out in his spot. He looked over his shoulder at you and cocked his eyebrow. 

“What? I’m just keeping it warm for you.” He shook his head laughing and stood up stretching and groaning loudly. He grabbed his pants and put them on, buttoning and zipping them, but since he was coming back and going straight back to bed he couldn’t be bothered fastening the belt hanging from the loops. He found his shirt and put it on, also not bothering to fuss with buttoning it. 

“My slides are by the door if you don’t feel like fucking with socks and shoes.” Chan offered. Jeongin with his fluffy, messy bed head, nodded and waved at him as he yawned, rubbing his eyes and walking out of the room. Jeongin put Chan’s slides on and sleepily made his way down to the lobby of the building to get your McDonalds from the door man.  

When Jeongin made his way to the elevators to go back up to the apartment he saw the same neighbor couple he’d ran into with you the night before. The three of them got on the same elevator and headed up together. When Jeongin looked up he noticed the girl��was staring at him. He politely smiled at her and she scowled back at him.  

Her boyfriend noticed the look on her face and nudged her. When he did, she quickly looked away. Jeongin wondered why was she looking at him like that? Probably because he looked like a fucking mess. His hair was sticking up, pillow creases on his face, eyes still puffy from sleep, and he was partially dressed in half a wrinkled suit they’d seen him wearing the night before. 

The elevator finally reached your floor and the doors dinged. When they opened Chan was standing there, shirtless, sweats hanging low on his hips and barefoot. His curls were an absolute mop on top of his head and his eyes, also still puffy from sleep, got a little wider when he noticed the neighbor couple in the elevator with Jeongin. 

“OH! Hey!” Chan gave the couple a shy wave, a little embarrassed to be standing there looking the way he was. He turned towards Jeongin. 

“You were taking a while, so I was just coming to check and make sure you didn’t need any help.” Jeongin nodded then handed Chan the drinks and held onto the bag. The neighbors looked like they were solving long division in their head. They were so confused trying to piece together the dynamic going on between you, Chan and Jeongin. Chan smiled and bowed his head a little at them. 

“Nice seeing you again. Have a good day!” The lag was real. They were STILL trying to figure out just what the relationship was here. It took the couple a minute for them to realize Chan had said something then they both quickly started stumbling over their words telling Chan it was nice to see him and to have a good day as well. Chan and Jeongin made their way down the hall towards you and Chan’s apartment as the neighbor couple watched them from the elevator. 

At that point it was VERY obvious to Chan that they were staring at them. When Chan glanced over his shoulder again and saw them gawking still, he decided to have a little fun at their expense, since they wanted to be so fucking nosey. So, when Chan and Jeongin reached the apartment door Chan stopped Jeongin a moment before going in. The maknae looked confused now too. Chan gave the neighbors, who were STILL staring, another quick glance over Jeongin’s shoulder then leaned in and kissed him and it was not just a LITTLE peck. 

Chan’s free hand threaded through the hair at the nape of Jeongin’s neck pulling him into the kiss. Chan tilted his head kissing Jeongin deeper as he plunged his whole tongue into the maknae’s mouth. Jeongin was caught off guard at first but quickly relaxed. His own free hand came up and cupped Chan’s face as he kissed him back, his tongue dipping into Chan’s mouth tasting him as well.  

When Chan pulled back, he bit and tugged at Jeongin’s bottom lip, then gave his lips a playful lick and shot another look towards his VERY confused neighbors before smiling at them. Chan opened the door, holding it for Jeongin, then gave his stunned neighbors a little wave before entering the apartment. When Chan shut the door and turned around he found Jeongin standing there giving him a crazy look. 

“Uhhh not that I’m complaining buuuuuut what the fuck was that?!” Chan laughed. 

“The neighbors wouldn’t stop staring so I figured they wanted a show.” Jeongin’s brows scrunched up in confusion before realizing what Chan meant. They both laughed their asses off as they walked back to the bedroom with all the food. When they walked in laughing you looked up wondering just what was SOOO funny. 

“What’s up guys?” You sat up on the bed, folding your sore legs crisscross. Chan and Jeongin started handing you your food and drink. 

“Well I think that couple that lives up the hall might not talk to us so much anymore.” You cocked your head confused. 

“Why do you think that?” Jeongin rolled his eyes and shook his head laughing again. 

“Cause Channie hyung decided to try and give me CPR with his tongue right in front of them.” Your jaw dropped. 

“CHAN!” Both of the guys were laughing again.  

“What!? They wouldn’t stop being nosey and staring so I gave them something to stare at.” You shook your head at him. 

“What?!” He asked incredulously. 

“Nothing!” You answered putting your hands up in surrender. 

“I’m just a little disappointed I missed it.” Chan rolled his eyes and Jeongin laughed. 

“I’ll make sure you have front row seats for the next time baby girl.” You smiled a big goofy smile and the guys distributed the rest of the food and got in bed. You were all so hungry you ate in complete silence and it was only a few minutes before all the food was gone. When you were done eating Chan threw everything away and you all got cozy on the bed again.  

You tuned on the tv and had a movie marathon as the three of you laid around all day. When you all got hungry again you determined who paid for and who retrieved the deliveries with more rounds of gwi bawi bo. Just to be fair you even participated when it was time for dinner, although you won both times and didn’t have to pay or go. Chan and Jeongin both accused you of cheating. 

After dinner you put another movie on and as you sat there between the two men you felt a huge sense of relief that, after everything that had happened the night before, nothing had seemed to change between any of you. You scooted in closer to Jeongin, made Chan wrap his arms around you and settled in to watch the movie just as happy and content as you could possibly be. 

[sukuna-ryo]

Oh wow, thank you so much for taking the time to respond to my post with… all of that. I’m honestly in awe of how you managed to turn a simple expression of excitement for a different type of Sukuna fanfiction into some kind of personal attack. I wasn’t even talking about specific writers or complaining about anyone’s content—I was literally just sharing an idea. But hey, props to you for finding something to get mad about. That’s a talent in itself.

Let’s be clear here: I wasn’t demanding anyone write this for me. I wasn’t critiquing anyone’s work. I wasn’t sitting here throwing shade at writers. I was just sharing what I personally wanted to see in fanfiction, which, last I checked, is what people do in fandom spaces. You know, sharing ideas, connecting over mutual interests—that sort of thing. I didn’t realize I needed to publish a whole novel on Google Docs to be allowed to post. My bad for thinking Tumblr was a space for that.

And honestly, the assumptions you made about me? Impressive. You’ve decided I don’t write, that I’m entitled, and that I’m part of some mythical group of people who do nothing but “complain.” None of which is true, but I can’t help but marvel at how far your imagination took you.

Also, the charm of calling people “corny” while doing exactly what you’re criticizing (complaining about someone’s post) is… unparalleled. I’m sure the irony is totally intentional. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to take your wisdom to heart while continuing to use this app however I want, since that’s kind of the point.

But seriously, it’s okay. I get it. You probably had some stuff on your chest, and my post happened to be the outlet for it. Maybe you’re feeling unappreciated, or maybe my excitement rubbed you the wrong way. Whatever it is, I sincerely hope you’re able to work through it. It’s okay, honey. Mummy and daddy love you, even if they didn’t act like it during your childhood. I truly hope this little outburst gave you the attention you’re so clearly craving. I see your pain and I acknowledge your feelings. Therapy could really help—just saying. It seems like a healthier way to process those feelings than trolling random people online.

At the end of the day, though, I’m going to keep sharing my thoughts and enjoying fandom spaces for what they’re meant to be: a place for ideas and connection. And if that bothers you… well, I guess you can keep yelling into the void if it makes you feel better. Wishing you all the best, truly.

(p.s: adding a screenshot of the tags this bbg wrote just in case they decide to delete it)

I'm so sick of sukuna fanfics where the reader is a sweet innocent submissive girl like badgirl reader whennnn! I need a crazy sukuna and a batshit insane reader, someone who matches his freak, someone who's even better at it, someone who lowkey terrifies the king of curses himself! I need a reader who shows this pretty boy what being evil actually is! Give me that!!!!

[darknessisafriend]

Everything will be okay - Commodus x you

Here's some Commodus piece! right in time as Gladiator II is out. I started writing this imagine a while ago, in August which was a particularly rough time where I lost my grandpa, I needed to write about it, but it took time, time to start grieving as well. (so obviously TW death)

I dedicate this writing to my grandpa and anyone who faced or is facing the hardship of losing a loved one. Everything will be okay loves ❤️

Everything will be okay

You were taking care of flowers in the imperial garden; you had chased slaves and gardeners wanting to help you out. Your face was puffy and red, your eyes swollen and a headache splitting your skull. You were trying to keep your mind distracted, away from the brutal shock of the news, the pain filling your whole being. The blank state of your mind was soon interrupted by a rumbling of armors and quick steps, your heartbeat quickening, you knew who it was.

“Leave!” ordered the voice of Commodus, your husband, making any person leave the gardens, even his praetorians. Before you turned around his strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight. You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart going wilder, your eyes turning watery, unable to say anything, you bit your trembling lower lip.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” he breathed, pain filled his voice too, as if anything that affected you, touched him too. He gently turned you around in his arms, cupping your face to meet your eyes. The moment he did, you let out a strangled sob, tears escaping your eyes. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him, desperately trying to suppress the pain as your tears wet his chest plate. Commodus let go of you, undoing the laces of his armor, briefly parting from you to take it off and just as quickly as you parted, his arms were around you again. This time you could feel his reassuring warmth, his quick breathing, and that is all you needed in that moment. Commodus remained silent; he knew there were no words enough to express the comfort he wanted to give you, how much he wanted your pain to go away, take it all so you could smile again.

“I planted new flowers, Damascus Roses, I…sorry for disturbing your day…” you spoke after some, time, parting from him to pick a few leaves from plants, a way to distract yourself, trying to stop crying. Your husband approached, resting his hand on the small of your back, understanding.

“They are truly beautiful; I have no doubt they shall blossom soon. And you did not disturb me, you are always my priority.” He reassured you, kissing your temple. You looked down at the leaves between your fingers, tearing them into small pieces.

“I never expected father to die so soon…he was healthy…I used to say he would live close to a hundred years old…and now…” you then spoke, silent tears streaming down your cheeks “I couldn’t even see him…talk to him…one last time…I had so much to say…so many hugs to give…” you sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek, wanting to stop crying, but you couldn’t, the pain was too immense.

“Y/N. He knows you loved him dearly; I have seen you send him the letters; you have done your best. But the gods…decided to call him to their side as he was worthy of them…please do not hurt yourself with these thoughts…” he tried, his hand keeping on rubbing your back soothingly, guiding you to a marble bench to sit. You instantly leaned against him, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. “I know how you feel. I had a different relationship with my father but for so long, I craved to hug him, to speak about how I felt, to tell him how much I loved him and what I would be ready to do for him…yet I never really could, only when I lost him, I let it all out and it was too late. But you my love, you have been a good daughter, I am sure that from the Underworld he smiles at you.” He soke softly, his eyes wet, sharing your pain, your distress.

“In my religion, there is no underworld, but Heaven and Hell...I hope he is in Heaven; it is similar to what you call the Elysian Fields.” You explained between sniffles “He deserves to be in peace, he was always good to us and trusted you blindly without even knowing you really.” You smiled through tears. “I wish you had met him; he would have liked you…” your voice shook again, struggling to speak those words. Commodus looked down, swallowing his saliva, his other hand reaching for yours, his fingertips playing with your wedding ring.

“It is not too late to pay my respects to him. I could…Y/N just say the word I will bring back his body to you.” He let out, taken by passion as always, unafraid of the challenges he could face. “I can bring him to you so you can embrace him one last time, bury him as your beliefs requires.”

You turned your head to him; not sure you had heard correctly. You met his eyes; he was terribly serious. He was offering you a way to grieve, to make your peace. You pinched your lips together, searching his eyes, amazed by the man you had the luck to call your husband.

“Say the word Y/N. You only need to command, and I shall be your hand.” he said again, confirming his intentions, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it devotedly. You swallowed down, torn, in this hard moment you wished for Commodus to remain by your side, yet to bring back the one you lost eased your spirit, a final goodbye.

“Bring him back to me, my love…” you finally managed to say “Please…” you whimpered, your hand cupping his cheek briefly, sorry to make him leave. And even if his eyes showed signs of yearning, he spoke none of it and stood, placing himself in front of you before kneeling, putting his fist on his heart.

“Your word is my command.” He vowed, looking at you determined, taking your hand and kissing it with equal devotion. “I leave the Empire in your capable hands my love. I will bring back your father.”  He promised, and stood, turning away, calling his scribes and guards, giving instructions as he put his armor back on, ready to ride to Gaul to get your father’s body. He instructed that a priest had the body to be embalmed or preserved until he arrived so he could process to the roman rituals for the dead to allow the soul to pass and not remain wandering in the mortal world. He instructed as well that word doesn’t come out that he left Rome, for your safety; to pretend he was sick and that in the meantime his wife assisted by his counselors would rule.

And just as fast as he had arrived by your side, Commodus had left, it would take about a week or a little more. Thankfully as Commodus had left, you inherited most of his workload, drowning yourself into letters he received, papers from the Senate and more. It distracted you, to the point you worked yourself to exhaustion, otherwise when night came you would cry yourself to sleep, it was normal after all but in those moments, you missed Commodus’ comfort more than ever.

As days passed you grew anxious, where was Commodus? Did he manage to obtain your father’s body? In which state? Would he even be able to bring him back? You stared at the sleeping city from your balcony, your tired eyes looking out for any movement, any singular event…

“Your majesty.” You were startled by a knock on your door, in the middle of the night, it was rather unexpected and even worrying. No one woke the lords in the middle of the night unless it was extremely urgent. Your pulse instantly quickened at that thought. You rushed to the door to open it, not bothering to cover yourself.

“Did something happen?” you asked, your eyes traveling between your chambermaid and the messenger, looking for any clues of bad news. The messenger bowed, averting his eyes at your light clothing.

“Forgive my presence so late in the night, highness. But I was required to reach you as soon as possible and by any means from the Emperor himself.” He apologized, your heart skipping a beat, your hands rolling into fists anxiously. “The Emperor is on his way to the palace, he should reach you before dawn. And whishes to inform you that he brings back your father with him.” He announced, slightly widening his eyes as you froze, your eyes glassy and tears starting to escape. Your chambermaid sent the messenger away, grabbing a warm shawl to cover your shoulders as you walked outside of the sleeping quarters. You couldn’t rest, you couldn’t stand still for as long as Commodus wasn’t standing in front of you.

And for what seemed like endless hours, you paced restlessly in the halls of the palace, your mind imagining the moment you would see your father, what state was he in? would you lose all sanity at the sight?

From afar you could hear the rapid footsteps of a dozen horses, so you rushed to the entrance of the inner court, ordering the doors to be opened. The group instantly entered, each carrying torches, except for one, Commodus, his horse was dragging a tiny carriage and on it…a silhouette, wrapped entirely in linens…your father.

“Y/N” you barely heard him call your name as he stopped close to you. Your eyes were fixed onto the cadaver of your father, your heart pumping into your ears, your body frozen in place, scared to approach, scared to touch the icy skin, scared to lift the veil and see his face…

“Y/N.” repeated Commodus louder, as he got off his horse, nearly collapsing on his knees in front of you, his fist on his heart, he caught your gaze to make you look at him. “I brought your father to you…I thank the gods proper care was done to preserve his body. Do not fear to lift the veil as he seems to be only sleeping.” He spoke with confidence to reassure you, it had to be done, to help you grieve properly.

“Thank you...” you murmured, your lower lip trembling as tears began to fall freely, blurring your vision almost entirely. Commodus stood up and came to stand by your side, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he made you approach the corpse.

“I am here. Do not be afraid.” He murmured, licking his lips almost nervously as he tried to do a cross sign to accustom your beliefs and respect your father as well. Then, he approached his hands, carefully uncovering the face of your father. It was like sleeping as he described…but more pale, quieter…at least you were glad to notice his face didn’t show any traces of suffering.

“He didn’t suffer, the healers told me he was gone in his sleep.” Informed Commodus as if he had read your thoughts. He took a step back to allow you to come closer, your hands trembled and your heartbeat so fast that you felt breathless. This was real, he was really dead in front of you and yet it felt surreal, like a nightmare you would wake up from.

“Papa...” you cried out, your hand going to brush over his gray hair, soothingly caressing them. “I am so sorry…so sorry we couldn’t talk one last time…sorry I couldn’t hug you…sorry I couldn’t be there...” you sobbed, tears falling on his burial shirt.

You stayed there for an hour, maybe more, touching him gently, speaking to him; during that time, Commodus remained standing by your side, ordering a few things to his praetorians so you two were left alone in that painful moment. As your eyes had no tears left, a headache splitting your skull, you turned to your husband, throwing yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest, his tunic absorbing the wetness of your face as he squeezed you tight, kissing the top of your head, soothing you the best he could for long minutes.

“I have ordered my praetorians to fetch a Christian priest. We will have him buried in their cemetery if you wish.” He spoke quietly. You squeezed your eyes shut, moved by his care “Thank you...” you murmured against his chest before lifting your head to look at him. Only then you noticed the bags under his eyes, the dust covering his skin and clothes, his shoulders weren’t as straight as usual, he was exhausted, probably pushing through his limits to remain standing; he had been so fast, he had surely ridden days and nights, without truly resting. That was something you had always loved with Commodus and yet it also worried you; when he had an idea in mind, he would lose sleep and hunger until he had reached his goal.

“We should go prepare for the burial, you could rest a bit, my love…” you murmured tenderly, so thankful he was there for you, so thankful you he had chosen you as his wife. You headed with your husband to your private quarters, taking hold of his hand, a comfortable silence between you.

“Bring me a warm water basin, and the necessary to wash. Also, black clothing for the emperor.” You ordered your chambermaid and removed his armor piece by piece, dust flying all around the room, the scent of sweat reaching your nose. You threw away his under-armor tunic and undergarments as well.

“Y/N you don’t have to do this…” protested Commodus, as he understood your plan. Not wanted to be a burden on your heavy spirits already.

“You brought my father back to me, all the way from Gaul to here.”  You simply replied, dampening the washing cloth in the warm scented water “Besides, it distracts me. I need to think about something else for a bit, clear my mind.” You added softly, your eyes burning from too much crying every time you blinked.

“How could I face you again if I didn’t even have the time nor will to do this for you? I couldn’t bear it…then, I wanted to meet him properly.” He spoke softly as you washed his feet, soundly exhaling in relief, his muscles relaxing.

“Circumstance could have been better. But yes, he would have liked you, I think… He deeply valued ambition. He used to say I deserved a man who knew what he wanted and who wanted to reach the sky to provide me and my future children the best life.” You smiled softly as you thought of him, yes, he would have liked him. “Look at your hands my love...” you commented, referring to how callous they had gotten but especially the small cuts he had on his palms from squeezing the reins as he rode.

“Can you tell me what he was like? What kind of man? I know things of course from public knowledge but you know better.” He replied, letting you apply oil on his palms.

“He was such a clever man, a scholar from the beginning. He read much, Greek classists, some Roman ones too. He always said that you couldn’t understand the world you live in and its future without understanding the victories and defeats of the past. He was very strategic in his decisions; he had that broad vision over things…he would have been an excellent counselor to you or would have enjoyed debating with you...” you chuckled nostalgic, grabbing a dry cloth to dry his skin.

“So that is where your sharp mind comes from when talking politics hm?” you heard the smile in his voice, trying to cheer you up “Wrapped in the sweetness of your mother. Any emperor around the world would bend the knee.” He cooed as you looked up, gently cupping your face and kissing your forehead protectively. “I would have been deeply honored to discuss with him.” You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him more, your face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, that was so calm and steady even after that exhausting trip, it soothed you too, everything will be okay.

“Now, if you are ready, let’s accompany your father to his eternal resting place. Let us not keep the gods...your God waiting.” Commodus spoke softly, a little encouraging smile, telling you he would always be there.

Tag list:

@skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @charlie-sisters @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @niniitah-ah @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix @thatdummy-girl @galos-writing @pstvchld @chiclunatic

@buttergirlie​ @rosebloodstuffandthangsss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria​ @just-a-fucking-comedy​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @sierraclegane​​ @lemondedeniname​​ @hvproductions​​ @syvellsworld​​ @papercut-paranoia​​ @jokerflecker​​ ​ @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over @beatlebabe1996​ @kfanniart @soulsfrostedheart18 @mayflower-gal @creativestorylove

[electricalhuzzah]

Hm wait since Stan and Bill had a heart to heart (ish) last chapter and everyone thinks Ford and Bill hate each others guts and are fighting more than ever….now I’m imagining Stan being like “hey bro you’ve dealt with him the whole time, he can stay with me now so you can have your room back!”

what if i told you,,, i was originally going to put something along those lines in the fic,,, but scrapped it in favor of throwing in something angstier,,,

and what if i told you… it wouldve gone something like this…

[Bill leaves room, just having done some shit to “piss off” Ford.]

Stan: Hey, Sixer, listen… I know Bill’s kinda a pain in the ass to ya, and I don’t think there’s really any substance to it, but… if he’s really gettin’ on your nerves, I can take him in my room and—

Ford: (way too quickly) No.

Stan: (surprised) I, uh… okay, geez. I just thought since he was pissin’ ya off and all… Why do you wanna keep the guy in your room so bad?

Ford: That is… an excellent question… to which I would have to reply… that he snores. Yes, he snores. Very loudly. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to that.

Stan: Don’t be a martyr, bro, I slept through a police raid once. I can take him off your hands, and I won’t have to hear you two constantly bicker about—

Ford: NO.

Stan:

Ford: I just… want to keep an eye on him, okay? I don’t trust him, not for a second, and everyone else in this household’s gotten so lax with him.

Stan: (mumbling, ready to let it go) M’kay, Poindexter, whatever floats your—

Ford: (saying too goddamn much) And, plus, where would you even put him? Our air mattress has a hole, your back wouldn’t let you sleep on the floor if you wanted to, everyone had “moral objections” to making Bill sleep on the floor, and sleeping in the same bed is frankly out of the question— I’d recommend setting oneself on fire before risking skin-to-skin contact with that jaundiced asshole.

Stan: … Well what have you been doing?

Ford: pardon

Stan: I didn’t know our air mattress had a hole. Where the hell has Bill been sleeping??

Ford: (thinking he is in fact cooked) … Another excellent question, if iI may commend you on your… questioning abilities on this lovely—

Stan: Stanford have you been making Bill sleep on the goddamn floor after we specifically said not to do that

(silencio)

Ford: Yes. That is a viable explanation. That is certainly what occurs. Regularly.

(cue an argument)

now, alternatively, if stan went to bill with this proposal—

Stan: Hey, Triangle, you n’Sixer been fighting a lot recently… If you wanted, you could move into my room and—

Bill: Not a chance in hell, ugly twin.

Stan:

Stan: Man.

Bill: I’ll take arguments and eye candy over denture cream and toupees, thanks.

[robingoetia12]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Despite the fact their communication had improved, Blitzø still had his walls up and Stolas didn’t know how to get his boyfriend to open up. But god damn it, he had to try.

Or where Stolas has no idea of the pain Blitzø is hiding and tries to get him to open up, but aren’t drunk words sober thoughts?

Tags: Stolas and Blitzø have made up, Stolas is a worried boyfriend, Blitzø is traumatised, no smut, angst with fluff, mentions of alcohol problems, Blitzø misses his mum, Cash Buckzo is a prick, mentions of abuse

Chapter 1

After Stolas had finally pulled his head out of his cloaca, he and Blitzø had a long talk and finally sorted the shit out in their relationship. Now things were absolutely amazing between them.

Blitzø spent most nights at Stolas’ palace and he even brought Loona with him so she and Via could spend time together. Everything was perfect… Almost.

Despite the fact their communication had improved, Blitzø still had his walls up and Stolas didn’t know how to get his boyfriend to open up. But god damn it he had to try.

Blitzø was never late back to Stolas’. Ever. Every passing minute of the clock and every coffee refill only caused the prince’s mind to increasingly fester with worry. His thoughts kept flashing to every worst possible scenario of what could’ve happened to Blitzø. As his thoughts travelled to the possibility of Striker kidnapping him, the door swung open.

In stumbled Blitzø, clearly drunk. Stolas sighed in relief and walked towards him then crouched to the imp’s level to meet his yellow eyes that were fixed on the floor. “Darling. Where were you? Are you okay?”

Blitzø, unusually silent, wrapped his arms around Stolas’ waist. Stolas hugged him back but then felt him shaking in his grip and then heard quiet sobs coming out of Blitzø’s mouth, the tears soaking the owl’s feathers. And then the frantic mumbling started.

“I’m sorry…”

Stolas tried to pull Blitzø back so he could look at him properly but Blitzø clung to him tighter, his voice rising and cracking more.

“No momma! Please I’m sorry.”

Stolas froze up. Blitzø had never mentioned his mother or any of his family before. “Darling-”

“Mom please! I love you, I’m sorry.”

Stolas knew he wasn’t listening and was too drunk to focus so he scooped his boyfriend up and tucked him into their bed. He headed out to get him a glass of water to sober him up. What he heard next nearly made him drop the glass.

“Dad please don’t! It hurts!”

Stolas nearly let out a hysterical sob but covered his mouth to stop himself so it came out as a quiet, strained cry. He could see that Blitzø had fallen asleep but then heard one more murmur from him.

“Please, I’ll be better… I just want to see Fizz…”

Stolas got into bed next to him and reached out for Blitzø’s spikes on his back and could still feel the shaking from his body and Stolas noticed how he wrapped his tail around himself. He rubbed his back gently to try and soothe him. “I love you darling…”

He couldn’t sleep after that. He kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to figure out what Blitzø went through and how he could help him but thinking about what it could possibly be made his stomach churn.

How did he not notice?

How did he not realise how affected he clearly was by whatever happened to him?

How could he help him open up?

Blitzø woke up the next morning, head pounding. He fell back onto the bed dramatically. “Ugh… I drank way too much last night, fuck…” He turned his head and saw Stolas clinging to him, still asleep. He smiled softly and stroked his feathers and went to check the time and saw it was 9am.

Shit.

He needed to be in the office in 15 minutes. He gently extracted himself out of Stolas’ arms, being careful not to wake him and jumped off the bed seeing his jacket hung on the back of Stolas’ door and pulled it on. Stolas sat up and blinked like a frog, groggily observing Blitzø rush around. “Darling? Everything okay?”

“Yeah… I need to go like now. We have a client who wants us to kill their target in some bullshit way so I gotta go.” He explained whilst opening the door.

Stolas followed him, red dressing gown on and holding the glass of water. “Do you want something to eat before you leave?”

Blitzø turned around. Despite the fact he and Stolas were a couple he still wasn’t used to being cared for. He was used to people leaving him…

“What? Uh no thanks it’s fine I’ll pick something up on the way.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he got to the front door. Stolas gently pulled him back.

“Will you at least drink this before you leave? You came home very intoxicated last night. It’ll do you some good.”

Blitzø rolled his eyes and took the glass. “Fine…” He downed the entire thing and then placed on the nearby table. Stolas was still frazzled from last night. He desperately wanted to hold Blitzø and protect him from anything that might hurt him again.

Stolas quickly spoke up before Blitzø left. “You’re coming home tonight aren’t you?” Blitzø looks up at him, holding his keys. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout last night, can’t have been fun to put up with me shit faced.” Stolas bent down and hugged him, mumbling about how he didn’t have to apologise. Blitzø snorted slightly, hugging him back. “Christ on a stick, someone’s all lovey dovey this morning.”

Stolas pulled away and kissed the imp softly on his lips and pressed his forehead against his. “I love you darling…” Blitzø smiled and opened the door. “Love you too, ya dork.” He left and sped away in his van. Stolas sighed heavily as the van disappeared. His heart was in his chest, he didn’t know how to help Blitzø.

But he would do whatever he could to keep him safe and happy.

No matter what.

A/N: Proof read by my sister @charliewalkersgf (she doesn’t even like Helluva Boss so she’s been forced into it lmao 🤣) and thanks for the people who replied to a post I made about the dialogue!! You all were very helpful and creative!!! Hope you enjoyed the fic!!! More chapters to come!!

[ofspvrta]

Sometimes people are halves of a two-piece puzzle. They just fit together no matter how they come together. Like they were always meant to be. Time couldn't even separate them. Kassandra never knew as a young woman that she would live so impossibly long, Evie probably never imagined she would experience Ancient Greece in such an incredibly hands-on way. They were always meant to meet, she genuinely believes that.

Kassandra exhales sharply through her nose, pain is temporary, no matter how intense. It was always temporary. But isn't everything? The world never stays the same, countries rise and fall, empires crumble, and new ones build up in their place. The only thing that remains is Kassandra. She's the only constant thing on this damned Earth. Evie traces her marks again and her eyes close in a moment of peace.

Evie can do a considerable amount of damage, but never intentionally to her. Last night was a fluke, an outside influence driving her to a moment of madness, a loss of control. Of self. The majority of the damage done to her was the cultists and their leader, that fucking Tall Man. But Evie, no, that wasn't Evie who hurt her, it was the artifact driving her that did. Any rising anger in Kassandra as her thoughts circle back to that vile man abates when Evie kisses her markings. To be loved like this, for even what makes her so inhuman in some ways, it means everything.

Oh, there's that tone. "Listen..." she interjects, knowing a chiding is coming. She had presented it so casually, too. Just a side note to the main story of having lost her head in the very literal sense. And the fact that she has her original skull squirreled away somewhere. "It does, doesn't it? I can't do anything in a normal manner, sorry." She says, keeping her tone light. But she suspects Evie wouldn't have her any other way.

"Don't be. We'll be alright." Kassandra whispers back, letting herself rest against Evie. As Evie speaks, Kassandra reaches out to gently grab her arm, golden eyes capturing her changed eyes. "I love you, nothing will ever change that. No one is going to take that from us. Okay?"

THEY CAN KEEP REPEATING IT , YOU KNOW . it stays the same. evie knows how to love kassandra. kassandra knows how to love evie. THAT IS WHAT MAKES THEM SPECIAL . that is what keeps them happily married for as long as life will allow them. the hand with the wedding band is actually currently resting on kassandra's strong trapes , that comfortable little area between neck and shoulder. perfect for a small hand.

evie really only pauses to give kassandra a moment after the pain. blue eyes find the markings on kassandra's already golden skin , trace them without either of her hands moving. at least for a few seconds , then she cleans up the rest of the spot as good as she can. it'll still need to be brushed out.

and as much as ... she can't hurt kassandra , there's a dreaded feeling that isn't the same for anyone else. she's just ... mated to kassandra , or some other animalistic term for this corruption that feels like , overall , it is animal kingdom basis. the backs of evie's fingers just run along kassandra's shoulder. she leans in , presses a soft kiss to one of kassandra's glowing lines. IT LINGERS FOR A FEW SECONDS , evie's eyes closed.

" kassandra ... " evie breathes out , there's the chastising. SHE COULDN'T HOLD THAT IN ANY LONGER . but mostly because evie was empathetic enough to understand the dire longing and pain in that otherwise not very human story. the inability to rest is tragic and it doesn't even truly take empathy to understand that. " that sounds like you. " a whisper against kassandra's cheek , above that glowing line.

" i'm sorry , " evie just whispers again. whether that was for the lack of rest or the events that just transpired is up in the air. " i'm going to go get what things we currently have together for when you're ready to leave. you just heal. "

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER -CHAPTER 11

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 11: | AFTERMATH |

You followed Sarah upstairs to her room, the heavy silence between you two feeling like a storm on the verge of breaking. Sarah threw herself onto her bed, her face pale and eyes still red from crying. Her body shook with the intensity of everything that had happened, and she was barely holding herself together. You could feel the tension radiating off of her in waves, thick and suffocating.

As you sat down at the edge of her bed, she turned her head to look at you, her expression pained. “This is why I didn’t want you to be with Rafe,” she said softly, her voice a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “I knew something like this would happen. I knew he’d hurt you or someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her emotions bubbling over as she wiped at her eyes.

You swallowed hard, feeling torn. You had loved Rafe for so long—trusted him. How could this have happened? “I... I never thought he could do something like this,” you admitted quietly, your fingers nervously twisting together in your lap. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in. You had defended him, trusted him, and now he’d gone too far.

“I told you,” Sarah continued, her voice sharper now as she pushed herself up, leaning forward with her hands clasped tightly together. “You’ve always seen the good in him, but this is who Rafe is. He loses control. He always loses control.”

You flinched at the truth in her words, but you also couldn’t shake the thought of him standing there, broken, with tears rolling down his face, terrified of what he had done. That wasn’t all he was. Rafe had darkness in him, yes, but he also had pain, confusion, and fear that he hid under all that anger. You couldn’t just walk away, not like this.

“I have to talk to him,” you finally said, standing up abruptly. Your heart raced with the decision, but you knew you needed to speak to Rafe, to try and understand what was going on in his head. You couldn’t leave things like this.

Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? No, Y/N, you can’t. He’s not stable right now!” Her voice rose with concern as she stood up as well, grabbing your arm. “You saw what he did. He’s not safe to be around.”

You shook your head, your determination hardening. “I need to talk to him, Sarah. He’s messed up, but I can’t just abandon him when he’s like this. I need to know why. I need to hear it from him.”

Sarah bit her lip, her eyes searching your face for any sign that you were changing your mind, but you weren’t. Finally, after a moment of tense silence, she let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Fine. But... just be careful, okay? He’s not thinking straight.”

You nodded, your chest tightening with a mixture of anxiety and guilt. You knew Sarah was right to be worried, but you couldn’t stay away. You had to hear Rafe’s side, had to understand what had driven him to such a dark place.

“I will be careful,” you promised her, your voice soft but firm. You squeezed her hand gently before turning toward the door, feeling the weight of what was about to come next pressing down on your shoulders.

As you left Sarah’s room and made your way down the stairs, your mind raced with what you were going to say, what you were going to do when you saw Rafe. You knew this conversation wouldn’t be easy. You knew things would never be the same after this. But deep down, you hoped that somewhere, somehow, you could still reach the part of Rafe that you loved—the part that wasn’t lost to anger and fear.

•°•°•°•°•°•

You walked down the hallway, every step feeling heavier than the last as the reality of what you were about to face sank in. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and desperation twisting inside you, making it hard to breathe. You knew this conversation with Rafe was going to be difficult—he had crossed a line, a line you never thought he was capable of crossing, and yet, here you were, unable to walk away.

The door to his room loomed in front of you, separating you from the man you cared for, the man you thought you understood. With trembling hands, you knocked softly before stepping inside.

Rafe sat on the edge of his bed, his posture stiff, shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the world. He didn’t even glance up when you entered. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his expression distant, as if he were somewhere far away.

You stood there for a moment, uncertain. The silence between you felt suffocating, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. What do you even say to someone after witnessing them do something so horrifying?

"Rafe," you whispered, the sound of his name barely leaving your lips. It was like you were testing the waters, afraid of how he'd react.

For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t respond. His body remained rigid, unmoving. You could almost see the storm brewing inside him—the guilt, the anger, the confusion. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, and the raw vulnerability there nearly broke your heart. His once blue eyes were bloodshot, and a mix of emotions simmered beneath the surface—anger, guilt, and exhaustion.

"You shouldn’t be here," Rafe said, his voice hollow. He wasn’t telling you to leave out of anger; it was the guilt speaking, as if he knew he didn’t deserve your presence, didn’t deserve your understanding. He looked at you like he knew he was beyond saving like he didn’t deserve your forgiveness.

But you couldn’t turn your back on him. Not yet.

"I needed to talk to you," you said softly, taking a step closer, your voice shaking. "I needed to understand."

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair, his movements sharp and agitated. "Understand?" he echoed, disbelief etched into every word. "Understand what, Y/N?"

The weight of the situation hit you all over again, pressing down on your chest. How could you even begin to grasp what had happened? What had Rafe done? You swallowed, trying to push back the fear that was clawing at you. “Why, Rafe?” Your voice cracked. “Why did you do it?”

He stopped pacing, his jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation, maybe both. "I did it for Dad!" he shouted as if saying it louder would make you believe it. "I did it to protect him!" His voice was raw, trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. “She was going to arrest him, and I couldn’t just sit there and watch. I had to do something.”

You flinched at his outburst but held your ground. "But killing someone..." you whispered, shaking your head, "That's not how you protect anyone."

"I know!" Rafe shouted, cutting you off. His voice echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls like a physical blow. His chest heaved as he stared at you, his eyes wild with emotion. “I know, okay? But I was scared. I panicked. I thought if I didn’t stop her, Dad would go to jail, and we’d lose everything.”

Tears gathered in his eyes, and his hands began to shake. For the first time since you’d walked into the room, you saw the vulnerable boy behind the hardened man. The mask of anger slipped, revealing a fragile, broken side of him. You stepped closer, your heart aching at the sight of him so lost, so desperate.

“Rafe, I get that you were scared,” you said gently, your voice softer now, trying to reach that part of him that was still human, still capable of understanding. “But this... this is too far. It’s gone too far.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw the full weight of his guilt. His shoulders sagged as if the realization of what he’d done was finally sinking in. "I know," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I talked to Dad. We figured we could say John B did it." His voice picked up again, more confident now, as if convincing himself this was the solution. "He was staying here. He could’ve stolen the gun."

You blinked, disbelief coursing through you. “You want to blame it on him?”

"Yeah, who else?" Rafe said, frustration lacing his words. "If anyone finds out it was me, I’m screwed. You’ll back me up, right?"

Your heart twisted painfully at the desperation in his voice, but you shook your head. "If anyone asks, I wasn’t there."

Rafe’s frustration bubbled over, and he stepped closer to you, his voice sharp. "Why can’t you just say John B did it?"

"I can’t," you whispered, shaking your head. "I can’t do that to Sarah."

His eyes darkened, his anger boiling to the surface. "You know very well she won’t hold back from saying it was me," he said through clenched teeth. "And you can’t even lie for me?"

“I’ll say I wasn’t there,” you repeated, your voice firmer now. “That’s a lie too, Rafe.”

His hands clenched into fists, and you could see the tension radiating off him, his movements jerky and unsteady. "You said you were on my side. You said we were in this together. Now, what? You’re just gonna turn your back on me? Let me take the fall?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had promised to stand by him, but this... this was more than you’d ever expected, “I am!” you exclaimed, your voice rising with frustration. You took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words, but everything felt hollow. "But this... this isn't just something we can lie our way out of."

Rafe’s jaw clenched as he ran his hands through his hair, gripping it tightly for a moment before letting go. His eyes were wild, the emotions swirling within them too intense to hide. "So what then? What am I supposed to do, Y/N? Just... let everything fall apart? Let dad go to prison? You don’t get it!" His voice rose, a mixture of anger and anguish.

"I do get it," you said, stepping closer, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I get that you're trying to protect your dad, but Rafe—this is too far. You can't just kill someone and think it’s okay to blame someone else! You know that’s wrong."

His eyes flashed with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall, making you flinch. "What other choice do I have?" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn’t want this! I didn’t want to kill her! But if I hadn’t done it, my dad would be in jail right now or worse. Don’t you see that?"

“I do.” Your chest tightened as you watched him. "Rafe, I don’t want to be caught up in this mess.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and for a moment, the vulnerability returned, softening his expression. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by anger. "Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Sarah when she told you not to be with me," he snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness.

The sting of his words hit you hard, and you took a step back, your chest tightening as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over. "Don’t say that," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I wouldn’t change a thing about us, Rafe. But I can’t let this consume me. I can’t let it destroy everything—my friendship with Sarah, my conscience…”

He scoffed, looking away as if your words meant nothing, but you could see the hurt behind his cold demeanor. "Yeah, whatever.”

You stood there for a moment, staring at him, your heart aching as the distance between you grew wider with every second. Then, with tears streaming down your face, you turned and walked out of the room, your footsteps heavy, each step feeling like you were leaving a part of yourself behind.

•°•°•°•°•°•

As you left Rafe’s room, your chest felt heavy, weighed down by the tension, guilt, and confusion swirling in your mind. Every step you took away from him seemed to press harder on your heart like you were leaving a part of yourself behind in that room. But you knew you couldn’t stay there. You needed to get out. To breathe.

By the time you reached the front door, your hands were trembling. The air outside was thick with humidity, but even the fresh air couldn’t help you think clearly. You needed space. Time to process everything that had just happened—the way Rafe had looked at you, the pain in his voice, the way things had spiraled so far out of control.

The walk home felt like a blur. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one more overwhelming than the last. You had never seen this side of Rafe before, and now, the memory of him with the gun, the desperation in his voice, was burned into your mind. It was like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from.

When you finally reached your house, you slipped inside as quietly as you could, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as you closed the door behind you, your mother’s voice drifted in from the kitchen.

"Y/N, is that you?"

You froze, not ready for a conversation but knowing you couldn’t avoid her. "Yeah, it’s me," you called back, trying to keep your voice steady as you made your way toward the stairs.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, concern etched on her face. "Where have you been all day?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you considered telling her everything. But the weight of it all was too much, and you couldn’t bear the thought of explaining what had happened—of watching her face fall as she learned the truth about Rafe and the danger you were caught up in.

Instead, you forced a small, tired smile. "Just out with friends."

Your mother studied you for a moment, clearly sensing that something was off, but she didn’t push. Maybe she knew you needed space, or maybe she just assumed it was a typical teenage drama. Either way, she sighed and nodded. "Well, don’t stay out too late next time without letting me know, okay? I was worried."

"Yeah," you mumbled, already heading toward the stairs. "Sorry, Mom."

You didn’t wait for a response. All you wanted was to get to your room, to crawl into bed, and hide from the world. You needed the silence of your own space to think—to figure out what your next move was going to be.

Once you were in your room, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you took a deep breath. Your mind was still racing, images of Rafe flashing through your head—his desperate eyes, the way his voice had cracked when he said he did it for his dad.

You made your way to your bed, collapsing onto the soft blankets. The room was quiet, but your thoughts were anything but. All you wanted was to find some sense of clarity, but right now, everything felt too overwhelming, too heavy.

As you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you knew one thing for sure: nothing was ever going to be the same again.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin

[i2rizz]

Ultraviolence

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: Shidou x reader

Yes its yet another one shot based on a song

Please dont get in relationships like this one!

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The world always seemed a little too loud when you were with him—Shidou Ryusei. He thrived in chaos, a hurricane of sharp grins, bruised knuckles, and laughter that was both beautiful and terrifying. And you? You were the calm in his storm, though sometimes it felt like he was pulling you into the very eye of it.

He’d told you once, drunk off adrenaline after a late-night fight, “I’m poison, baby. But you? You make it taste sweet.”

It wasn’t a compliment. It was a warning.

The first time you met Shidou, he was bleeding. You had stumbled upon him leaning against a wall outside a bar, his knuckles split and a wicked smirk plastered across his face.

“You look awful,” you’d said, unable to stop yourself.

He looked up, his pink eyes gleaming under the dim streetlight, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. Instead, he’d said, “You’re beautiful. Got a cigarette?”

You didn’t smoke, but you stayed anyway. And that was your first mistake.

Shidou had a way of making everything feel like a game. Love, anger, pain—they all blurred together in his world. He was reckless and unapologetic, and you found yourself drawn to him despite every red flag screaming at you to run.

“Do you love me?” you’d asked one night, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain outside.

He’d tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “Of course I do. You’re mine.”

But his love wasn’t soft or gentle. It was consuming, like fire. He had a temper that matched his passion, and though he never raised a hand against you, the fights left bruises on your soul.

“You make me crazy, y’know that?” he’d said once, slamming his fist into the wall next to your head during an argument.

And yet, when he’d pulled you into his arms moments later, whispering apologies into your hair, you’d stayed.

Because his chaos felt like home.

Shidou was magnetic, and you weren’t the only one who thought so. His world was filled with admirers, people who saw him as untouchable, invincible. But they didn’t see the side of him that you did—the boy who crawled into your bed in the middle of the night, his hands trembling from a fight gone too far.

“I’m bad for you,” he’d muttered once, his head resting on your lap as you gently traced the scars on his arms.

“I know,” you’d replied. But you stayed anyway.

Because his love was all you’d ever known.

The night it all fell apart, you were waiting for him at the diner where you always met. He was late, as usual, but when he finally burst through the door, something was different.

His knuckles were bloody, his lip split, but it wasn’t the injuries that scared you. It was the look in his eyes—wild, unhinged, like a cornered animal.

“We gotta go,” he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you outside.

“Shidou, what’s going on?”

“No time,” he snapped, but his grip on your wrist softened. “Trust me, okay?”

And you did. God help you, you did.

You never found out exactly what happened that night. All you knew was that Shidou had crossed a line, even for him. The car ride was silent except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional curse muttered under his breath.

When he finally stopped the car, you were in the middle of nowhere. He turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“I love you,” he said, and for once, there was no grin, no trace of his usual arrogance.

“I know,” you replied.

And then he kissed you, hard and desperate, as if it was the last time.

Shidou disappeared that night, leaving nothing behind but a note scrawled on the back of a receipt: “You deserve better, baby. Don’t wait for me.”

You didn’t cry. Not at first. But as the days turned into weeks, the reality of his absence hit you like a freight train.

You knew he’d never be the man you needed him to be. His love was beautiful, violent, and ultimately destructive. But a part of you would always belong to him, no matter how much it hurt.

Because some loves aren’t meant to last—they’re meant to burn.

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Ultraviolence- Lana Del Rey

[eden-writes-stuff]

Hi! Would you be willing to write some rosekiller angst? Some hurt/comfort goes a long way :-)

tags: angst, torture, death eater rosekiller wordcount: 623

Evan wasn't even crying anymore. His body was almost numb from all the pain he'd been put through over the last hour. His throat was sore from all the screaming. And all that because he hadn't killed a child.

Eventually, they just left him lying on the cold floor, unable to move.

Barty made sure everyone was gone, before he snuck through the black doors, cowering next to Evan.

"Rosie? Baby?" He gently lifted him up into his lap, stroking his hair. The boy looked pale, exhausted. Barty hated them for hurting him. His lovely, brilliant, weird, beautiful Evan. Evan, who knew how to heal, unlike Barty. The bigger problem was, that Barty didn't even know what spell he would use in this situation. It wasn't like there was anything exactly wrong with him. Evan hadn't broken a bone or dislocated a shoulder, he'd just experienced a lot of pain.

He needed to get him help. Regulus would know what to do. He always knew what to do, he was always in control. Barty placed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's forehead, before carrying him through the manor. It was the kind of house that was so dark it seemed to swallow all the light and with it the joy. Just like his old home.

Halfway up the stairs, Evan began shaking in his arms. "It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll get you help", he whispered, holding him closer.

They both shared a room with Regulus, which had made things around here slightly more bearable. "Put him on his bed", the youngest Black instructed as he saw them walking in, placing his book aside and gabbing his wand.

"They took turns on him for an hour. I don't know what to do", Barty explained, voice not as steady as he would have liked. "I know, I heard him...." He swallowed, before sitting next to Evan on the bed. 

For the next 20 minutes, Barty paced through the room, trying to help Regulus as much as he could. Then he waited.

Evan had stopped shaking and wasn't as pale as before, but it took him a while before he woke up again.

"Rosie... Are you okay? How do you feel?", he asked, softly taking his hand. "Feel like shit." His voice was rasp and barely audible, but he was back. Half-open eyes, a weak grasp, but he was back. And he was alive. 

Barty gave him a glass of water, which Evan emptied in one go. With a quiet sigh, Barty lay down next to him, face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I was scared", he admitted after a while. "I thought I would lose you." "I was scared too", Evan whispered. "But I really didn't want to kill this kid. And it's pretty fucked up that they make us." "It is. But it's not worth you being tortured like this." "Yeah... Maybe." Evan sighed, pulling Barty closer to him.

He liked being alive. He liked a lot of things about it. Being with Barty, feeling the sun on his face, good food, all kinds of bugs and spiders, flower fields, his sister, spending time with his friends... But life like this... Spending most of his time in this dark, cold house, going out mostly at night, and when they went out it was to kill people. Time with his friends and with Barty had also become very thin because most of them were always busy and Pandora refused to talk to him.

"Bee?" "Hm?" He sounded like he was half asleep. "If I wanted to leave... would you come with me?" Barty looked up at him, but before he could answer, there was a loud banging at the door.

"Crouch. We need you for a mission. Now."