#she’s so strong for going through so much shit

[00valentina-writes00]

heyy love how abt vi x insecure reader where reader can’t come due to nerves and vi calms the reader down eventually and makes her cum so hard UGHHHH lots of angst too bby plssss

Angxx havxbajzb jahxbsn yes

♡♥︎Soft and Safe♥︎♡

Warnings: reader can’t cum, oral sex (reader receiving), Vi being comforting (I need her.)

Vi is patient. More patient than anyone gives her credit for.

People see her and expect fire—recklessness, heat, a fighter through and through. And she is all of those things. But she’s also something else. Something quieter. Something softer.

And thank God for that, because right now, you need that side of her.

You’re straddling her lap, your bare thighs framing her as she leans back against the headboard. Her hands rest on your waist, steady, grounding. She’s warm beneath you, her body solid, strong, unshaken.

You, however, are trembling.

Not because you don’t want this. You do. You ache for it. For her.

But your body won’t cooperate.

No matter how much you try to lose yourself in her touch, no matter how good she makes you feel, something inside you remains locked up tight, nerves tangled around your ribs like barbed wire. You can feel yourself getting closer—so close you can taste it—but then it vanishes, slipping through your fingers like smoke.

And now, frustration burns in your chest, acid-hot and awful.

Vi notices. Of course she does.

“Hey, hey, baby.” Her voice is soft, but the concern in it is unmistakable. “Breathe for me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, your nails digging into her shoulders as you try to will yourself into relaxing.

It doesn’t work.

“I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper, voice thick with unshed tears. “I just— I can’t—*”

Vi’s hands tighten on your waist, not hard, just there. Just enough to remind you that you’re not alone. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says firmly. “Not a damn thing.”

You shake your head, shame curling tight in your chest. “I just want to make you feel good—”

“You do make me feel good,” Vi interrupts, her voice unwavering. “Every time. Even now.”

You bite your lip, chest tightening. “But I can’t—”

“Shh.” Vi presses her forehead to yours, her breath warm against your lips. “You don’t have to force it. I don’t need you to prove anything, babe.”

A lump rises in your throat. “But you—”

“But nothing.” Her thumbs stroke slow, soothing circles over your hips. “This isn’t a race. We’re not keeping score.”

You exhale shakily, trying to let her words sink in.

She leans back slightly, studying you with those sharp, knowing eyes of hers. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. But Vi just waits, patient as ever, her hands never leaving your skin.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, you admit, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Vi scoffs. Actually scoffs. “Disappoint me? Baby, the only thing that disappoints me is hearing you say shit like that.”

You manage a weak laugh, but the ache in your chest doesn’t ease. “I just… I feel like I should be able to, you know? I feel like—like something’s wrong with me for not being able to.”

Vi’s expression softens, and she reaches up, cupping your face in both hands. “Nothing is wrong with you,” she murmurs. “Not now. Not ever. You’re safe with me, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world. You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart.”

Your throat tightens again, but this time, it’s not from frustration. It’s from the way she’s looking at you—like you’re everything. Like she’d hold you like this forever if you let her.

“Can I take care of you?” Vi asks, voice low, careful, like she’s handling something delicate.

You hesitate, but then you nod.

Vi’s lips brush against yours, barely a kiss, just a promise. Then she shifts, adjusting you gently until your back is against the pillows, her body sliding down the bed until she’s between your thighs.

“Just breathe, baby,” she murmurs, pressing slow kisses to your stomach, your hips, your inner thighs. “I’ve got you.”

And you believe her.

Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles against your skin. She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push. Just waits, letting you feel every touch, every press of her lips.

By the time she finally kisses the inside of your knee, your muscles have loosened, your breathing deepening.

“That’s it,” Vi murmurs, nuzzling against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “There’s my good girl.”

Heat coils in your stomach, slow and steady this time instead of sharp and anxious. Vi feels it—feels the way your body reacts, the way your hips shift slightly, the way your breath hitches.

She groans softly. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Then, finally, finally, she leans in and drags her tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate.

Your breath punches out of you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

Vi moans, low and satisfied, and does it again.

This time, there’s no panic. No pressure. Just the warm, wet heat of her mouth, the slow, insistent strokes of her tongue. She doesn’t rush you, doesn’t chase after your pleasure like it’s something to conquer.

She coaxes it from you. Draws it out like a secret only she’s allowed to hear.

And fuck, it feels so good.

Your hips jerk against her, a whimper spilling from your lips. Vi groans into you, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you right where she wants you.

“That’s my girl,” she rasps, voice wrecked and desperate. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.”

You moan, thighs tightening around her, and—

Oh.

Oh.

The pleasure slams into you like a wave, crashing hard and unrelenting, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your everything. You sob her name, arching, trembling, falling apart completely against her tongue.

Vi doesn’t stop. Not until you’re gasping, twitching, oversensitive.

She finally pulls back, pressing one last kiss against your inner thigh before crawling back up to you.

“There she is,” she murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. “Knew you could do it, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath, still trembling as she pulls you into her arms.

[saebyeokbliss]

BABY, I’M A ROCKSTAR

pairing: rockstar guitarist!kang sae-byeok x fem!manager!reader synopsis: you spend your days managing an up-and-coming band, HOT DIVISION (핫 디비전), making sure everything runs smoothly while keeping your growing feelings for the lead guitarist buried deep. between late-night gigs, teasing bandmates, and stolen glances, you try to stay professional—but it’s hard when she’s always just within reach, unknowingly pulling you closer. as the band’s success takes off, so does the tension between you and her, leaving you wondering if you’re imagining things or if maybe, just maybe, she feels it too. warnings: strong language, smoking, drug use (weed), teasing, mutual pining, intense eye contact, heart palpitations (caused by sae-byeok), secondhand embarrassment (caused by ji-yeong), found family dynamics, relentless shipping from friends, excessive smirking, emotional damage

a/n: i hope this ate its a little rushed but enjoy guys!!

The van smelled like weed, cheap leather, and the lingering scent of No-eul’s mint gum. You were squished between Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong, half-listening to whatever nonsense Se-mi was rambling about while Ji-yeong took another slow drag from the joint between her fingers.

“I’m just saying,” Ji-yeong exhaled, smoke curling toward the ceiling, “if aliens exist, they’re probably already here. Like, disguised as CEOs or some shit.”

Se-mi hummed in agreement, head lolling back against the seat. “That makes sense. No way some of these billionaires are human. Look at Elon Musk.”

Sae-byeok scoffed beside you, arms crossed. “You two are high as hell.”

“And?” Ji-yeong smirked, offering the joint toward Sae-byeok, who just shot her a glare.

You tried to focus on the road ahead, watching as No-eul kept one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio. Unlike her younger sister, No-eul wasn’t much of a talker. She just rolled her eyes at Se-mi and Ji-yeong’s antics and kept driving.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down, reading the message from your contact at the label.

[HOT DIVISION CONFIRMED FOR L.A. SHOW. FLIGHTS BOOKED. DETAILS ATTACHED.]

Your stomach flipped.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

Sae-byeok turned her head toward you. “What?”

You swallowed, rereading the message just to make sure you weren’t imagining it. “We’re playing a show in Los Angeles.”

The van erupted into chaos.

Ji-yeong practically threw herself over you to grab your phone, squinting at the message. “No fucking way.”

Se-mi gasped dramatically, gripping Ji-yeong’s arm. “We’re going international, baby!”

Even No-eul cracked a small smile, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “Looks like we made it.”

Sae-byeok’s eyes flickered to yours, something softer there beneath the usual stoicism. “That’s big,” she murmured.

You nodded, heart still racing. “Yeah.”

Then reality hit.

“But I can’t go.”

The excitement in the van screeched to a halt. Ji-yeong frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t go?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t have a passport. I never got one.”

“Just apply for one,” Se-mi said, waving a hand.

You shot her a dry look. “It takes weeks—sometimes months—to process. There’s no way I’ll get it in time.”

A heavy silence settled over the group. Ji-yeong looked genuinely heartbroken. “But you’re our manager.”

No-eul glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “Are you sure there’s no way?”

You shook your head. “Even if I pay for an expedited one, it’s not guaranteed. I won’t make it.”

Sae-byeok was quiet beside you. When you turned to look at her, she was already watching you, brows furrowed.

“You’ll be fine without me,” you tried to joke, nudging her with your elbow. “Just don’t let Ji-yeong and Se-mi get arrested in another country.”

Ji-yeong clutched her chest. “How dare you assume we’d get arrested?”

Se-mi blew out a breath. “No, that’s fair.”

Sae-byeok didn’t smile. If anything, she looked… uneasy.

The rest of the drive was filled with Ji-yeong and Se-mi making plans for what they’d do in LA, but you kept stealing glances at Sae-byeok.

She wasn’t talking.

She was thinking.

And in the pit of your stomach, you knew she wasn’t happy about leaving you behind.

The People Magazine building was sleek, modern, and way too quiet for a group like HOT DIVISION.

You walked a few steps ahead of the girls, phone in hand, skimming through emails while also keeping an ear out for any potential disasters. No-eul was the most responsible of the bunch, but Ji-yeong and Se-mi? They were walking chaos. Sae-byeok, as usual, hovered somewhere in between—cool, collected, and effortlessly intimidating.

The receptionist greeted you with a polite smile, eyes widening slightly when she noticed the four rockstars trailing behind you. You weren’t surprised. HOT DIVISION carried an energy—the kind that turned heads without even trying.

"You're here for the interview and photoshoot?" the receptionist asked.

"Yeah," you replied, tucking your phone into your pocket. "HOT DIVISION."

Ji-yeong leaned onto the counter, flashing a grin. "That’s us."

The receptionist nodded quickly, cheeks slightly pink. "Right! Uh, follow me."

You sighed, already exhausted. This is going to be a long day.

The girls were seated on a long couch in the studio, mics clipped to their outfits. You stood off-camera with the PR team, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold.

The interviewer, a well-dressed woman with a bright smile, started off with the usual questions.

“So, HOT DIVISION has been making waves in the industry. How does it feel to be one of the biggest rock bands right now?”

No-eul, sitting at the far left, shrugged. “Feels normal.”

Sae-byeok, next to her, nodded. “We just play.”

Ji-yeong snorted. “Okay, well, they just play. I personally feel cool as hell about it.”

Se-mi leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “It’s kinda insane, huh? I mean, one minute we’re playing in tiny bars, and the next we’re flying to LA for a show.”

The interviewer smiled. “Speaking of, how are you all feeling about the upcoming performance in the U.S.?”

Ji-yeong threw an arm around Se-mi. “Excited. Terrified. Ready to make questionable decisions.”

You shot her a warning look from your spot off-camera. She winked at you.

Sae-byeok, ever the professional, answered smoothly. “We’re looking forward to it. It’ll be our first time playing overseas, so we want to make it count.”

The interviewer nodded. “And your manager—” she turned toward you briefly, smiling, “—won’t be joining you due to passport issues, right?”

You stiffened. Oh no.

The girls immediately reacted.

Ji-yeong groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind us.”

Se-mi pouted. “It’s tragic, really.”

No-eul, the most composed of the group, simply nodded. “She keeps us in check. It’ll be weird without her.”

Sae-byeok didn’t say anything at first. She just toyed with the ring on her finger, eyes lowered slightly. Then, after a beat, she murmured, “Yeah. It sucks.”

Your breath caught.

The interviewer, sensing the shift, quickly moved on to lighter topics—music influences, songwriting process, tour stories. You exhaled, trying to ignore the way your heart had flipped at Sae-byeok’s words.

Get it together.

If the interview was chaotic, the photoshoot was absolute anarchy.

“Ji-yeong, stop messing with the props,” you scolded, watching as she twirled a mic stand like a weapon.

“I am the prop,” she shot back, striking a ridiculous pose.

Se-mi adjusted the leather jacket draped over her shoulders. “She’s not wrong.”

The photographer sighed. “Alright, let’s try something serious now.”

That was easier said than done.

Se-mi kept making faces at Ji-yeong. Ji-yeong kept making Se-mi laugh. No-eul kept acting like she was above it all, but you knew she was holding back a smirk. Sae-byeok, ever the professional, somehow managed to look effortlessly cool despite the madness around her.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you all please act normal for five minutes?”

“Normal is boring,” Ji-yeong quipped.

Sae-byeok glanced at you then, a rare hint of amusement in her eyes. “You look stressed.”

You huffed. “I am stressed.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. Then, with zero warning, she reached out—her fingers brushing against your wrist, just barely. It was nothing. A fleeting touch. But it sent a shockwave through you.

You went rigid.

She must’ve noticed because her lips twitched—just the slightest hint of a smirk before she pulled away.

You swallowed hard, praying no one else noticed.

Unfortunately, Ji-yeong definitely did.

She waggled her eyebrows at you once the photographer turned away, mouthing, What was that?

You shot her a glare. Drop it.

She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned over to Se-mi and whispered something, and before you knew it, both of them were giving you the look.

Oh god.

No-eul, ever the observant one, simply sighed. “You guys are exhausting.”

You groaned, already dreading the inevitable teasing that would come later.

Sae-byeok, on the other hand, just adjusted the strap of her guitar and pretended she didn’t notice the way you were completely falling apart over her.

She definitely noticed.

And she was enjoying it.

The airport was a mess of people, luggage, and last-minute panic.

You walked beside the girls, keeping a mental checklist of everything they needed. Passports? Check. Boarding passes? Check. Ji-yeong and Se-mi not getting distracted by duty-free stores? Barely a check.

Beside you, Cheol clutched the straps of his backpack, eyes flickering between Sae-byeok and No-eul. He had insisted on coming, saying he wanted to see his noonas and their best friends off. You hadn’t argued. If anything, you figured having him around might keep your chest from aching too much when they left.

“You’re gonna bring me something back, right?” Cheol asked, looking between his two sisters.

No-eul ruffled his hair. “I’ll bring you an overpriced keychain.”

Sae-byeok smirked. “I’ll bring you something cooler.”

Cheol looked smug. “Knew you were my favorite noona.”

No-eul scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. You just smiled, watching the exchange.

“Alright, alright,” you said, checking the time. “You guys have about twenty minutes before you need to get through security.”

Ji-yeong groaned. “Ugh. I hate flights.”

“Then don’t come back,” Cheol deadpanned.

Se-mi gasped dramatically. “Betrayal.”

Sae-byeok chuckled under her breath, and you found yourself staring before you could stop. She was so effortlessly cool—hair tucked behind her ears, hands in her jacket pockets, the weight of her guitar case slung over one shoulder.

God. You were never going to survive this tour without her.

One by one, the girls said their goodbyes.

No-eul gave Cheol a rare, tight hug before nodding at you. “Take care of him.”

You nodded back. “Always.”

Ji-yeong hugged you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Se-mi squeezed your shoulders. “We’ll send pictures. And maybe—maybe—we won’t get arrested.”

You groaned. “That’s not reassuring.”

Then, finally, Sae-byeok stepped forward.

For a second, she just looked at you, dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch between you.

Then, instead of a hug, she reached out—slow, deliberate—and tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. Just a tiny pull. Barely anything at all.

But it made your heart stop.

“You should’ve come,” she murmured.

Your throat went dry.

“I—I know,” you managed.

She didn’t say anything else. Just held your gaze for a breath too long before finally stepping back.

Ji-yeong, watching from the side, definitely noticed.

“Alright, lovebirds,” she sing-songed, grabbing Sae-byeok’s wrist before you could combust. “Time to go.”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, but you caught the way the corners of her lips twitched.

And then, just like that, they were walking toward security, disappearing into the sea of travelers.

You exhaled, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

Cheol, beside you, tilted his head. “...Did something just happen?”

“No,” you said way too quickly.

Cheol looked skeptical.

But thankfully, he didn’t push it.

Still, as you both walked back toward the exit, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Sae-byeok’s fingers—gentle, fleeting—ghosting over your sleeve.

And you definitely couldn’t shake the way she had looked at you, like maybe—just maybe—this goodbye wasn’t as simple for her as it should’ve been.

You were lying in bed, scrolling through emails and trying to keep yourself busy when your phone buzzed.

Incoming FaceTime: Ji-yeong 🍃🔥

You sighed, already bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unfold. With a swipe of your finger, you answered, and immediately, the screen was filled with Ji-yeong’s grinning face.

“Manager-nim~” she sang. “Look at what we got.”

The camera flipped around, revealing a bed covered in shopping bags—designer logos, streetwear brands, and more shoes than any of them realistically needed.

Se-mi was sprawled across the bed, holding up a leather jacket. “This cost more than my rent used to.”

“I mean, technically, we don’t pay rent anymore,” Ji-yeong pointed out.

“That’s not the point.”

No-eul, ever the level-headed one, was neatly folding a pair of black jeans. “I only bought what I needed.”

Ji-yeong snorted. “Boring.”

Then, the camera moved slightly, and you finally caught sight of her.

Sae-byeok, sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression.

She met your gaze through the screen. “They’re ridiculous.”

You exhaled a small laugh, heart doing that stupid thing it always did when she looked at you like that.

Ji-yeong turned the camera back to herself. “Okay, okay, let’s do a haul. Sae-byeok, narrate.”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes but played along.

The camera flipped again, showing Se-mi dramatically throwing on her new leather jacket.

“Se-mi,” Sae-byeok drawled, “delusional enough to think it’s cold in LA.”

Se-mi gasped. “Excuse me, fashion knows no temperature.”

Ji-yeong cackled before turning the camera to No-eul, who was now lacing up a pair of combat boots.

“No-eul,” Sae-byeok continued, “dressed like she’s about to start a revolution.”

No-eul glanced up. “That’s not wrong.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And what about Ji-yeong?”

The camera flipped again, showing Ji-yeong putting on a ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses.

“Ji-yeong,” Sae-byeok said flatly, “pretending she’s famous.”

Ji-yeong grinned. “I am famous.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re all insane.”

Ji-yeong smirked. “And you love us.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then Sae-byeok’s voice cut through—calm, steady, too knowing.

“You miss us.”

Your breath hitched.

The screen had shifted slightly, just enough to show Sae-byeok looking directly at you. Unlike Ji-yeong and Se-mi, who were still messing around, she was watching you.

Waiting.

You swallowed. “Of course, I miss you guys.”

Sae-byeok hummed. “Mhm.”

Ji-yeong, still oblivious, waved at the camera. “Alright, we’ll call again later. Don’t cry too much over us.”

You scoffed. “Goodbye, Ji-yeong.”

“Bye, manager-nim~”

The call ended, and the screen went dark.

You let out a slow breath, staring at your reflection.

Even through a screen, even from miles away, Sae-byeok still had you completely unraveling.

The Kang family’s small living room was buzzing with anticipation.

Cheol sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV, while Ms. Kang—sweet as ever—kept offering you snacks every five minutes. You had already accepted a cup of warm tea, more out of politeness than anything, but she still hovered, fussing over you like you were her own child.

“Are you comfortable, dear?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You smiled. “I’m good, Ms. Kang. Thank you.”

She patted your arm before settling onto the couch beside you, hands folded neatly in her lap. “I still can’t believe my girls are performing in America. It feels like just yesterday Sae-byeok was teaching Cheol how to tie his shoes.”

Cheol groaned. “Eomma, don’t bring that up.”

You chuckled, but your heart ached a little at Ms. Kang’s words. You knew what this meant to her—to see both Sae-byeok and No-eul making something of themselves after everything they had been through.

The TV screen flickered as the live broadcast finally started. The stage lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and then—

There they were.

HOT DIVISION.

Ji-yeong, ever the showman, was the first to speak into the mic. “Los Angeles, you ready?”

The audience screamed.

You leaned forward, barely breathing as the camera panned to the rest of the band. No-eul, steady behind the drums, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. Se-mi, hyping up the crowd, bass guitar slung low on her hip. And then—

Your chest tightened.

Sae-byeok.

Dressed in all black, guitar in hand, standing at the center of the stage like she belonged there. The stage lights cast a soft glow over her sharp features, and for a moment, she looked almost unreal—like something out of a dream.

She adjusted the strap of her guitar, eyes scanning the crowd. Then, as if she knew you were watching, she tilted her head slightly, lips curling into the smallest, most knowing smirk.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

Cheol smirked beside you. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” you hissed.

Ms. Kang, ever oblivious, beamed. “Oh, Sae-byeok looks so beautiful.”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. She does.”

Then, the first chords rang out, and the performance began.

The band was electric. The energy was raw, unfiltered, and completely intoxicating. Ji-yeong’s voice was raspy and powerful, Se-mi’s bassline shook the floor, No-eul’s drumming was sharp and precise, and Sae-byeok—

God, Sae-byeok.

The way she played her guitar—fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings, body moving naturally with the music, eyes half-lidded in concentration—was enough to make your brain short-circuit.

You were so screwed.

Cheol nudged you again. “Still staring.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

Ms. Kang smiled warmly, unaware of your internal suffering. “She looks happy.”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

And she did. Sae-byeok wasn’t just playing. She was feeling it—losing herself in the music, in the moment. And for some reason, knowing she was happy made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Then, just as the song reached its climax, the camera zoomed in on Sae-byeok.

And that’s when it happened.

She looked straight into the lens.

Straight at you.

And then—she winked.

Your heart stopped.

Cheol howled with laughter. “OH MY GOD.”

Ms. Kang clapped her hands together. “Did you see that? She winked! How cute!”

You sat there, stunned, gripping your cup of tea like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

She knew.

She absolutely knew.

And she was teasing you.

The song ended, the crowd exploded into cheers, and the screen cut to commercials. But you barely registered any of it.

Because all you could think about was the way Sae-byeok had looked at you—like she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

And worse?

She enjoyed it.

Your phone buzzed violently on the table, the screen lighting up with an incoming FaceTime call.

Incoming FaceTime: Ji-yeong 🍃🔥

You exhaled, already bracing yourself. No doubt they were still on a post-show high, ready to scream in your ear about every little thing. With a swipe, you answered—and immediately, the screen was filled with Ji-yeong, Se-mi, and No-eul squished together, all talking at once.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Ji-yeong shrieked.

“We fucking killed it,” Se-mi added, grinning.

No-eul, ever the calm one, simply gave you a knowing nod. “It went well.”

The camera jostled as they moved, and then—just as expected—Sae-byeok appeared in the background, sitting on the hotel bed, casually scrolling through her phone while the others lost their minds.

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

“I saw,” you said, trying to sound normal. “You guys were insane.”

Ji-yeong cackled. “Duh.”

Se-mi held up her phone. “We’re reading the comments right now. People are losing their shit.”

“Read them to me,” you said, leaning back against the couch.

Ji-yeong cleared her throat dramatically. “Okay, first one—‘HOT DIVISION just changed my brain chemistry. I will never recover.’”

You laughed. “Accurate.”

Se-mi scrolled. “Here’s another—‘Who gave Ji-yeong the right to be that sexy on stage? I need her arrested immediately.’”

Ji-yeong gasped in delight. “Finally, someone who understands me.”

No-eul rolled her eyes. “Here’s a good one—‘No-eul’s drumming is so precise it could probably fix my trust issues.’”

Se-mi fake sniffled. “Beautiful.”

Then, Ji-yeong started wheezing, clutching her stomach. “OH MY GOD. LISTEN TO THIS—‘Did Sae-byeok just wink at the camera? Is she trying to kill us? I’m physically unwell.’”

Your stomach dropped.

Sae-byeok, still looking at her phone, smirked. “That one’s my favorite.”

Ji-yeong, sensing an opportunity for chaos, turned the camera directly to your face. “What about you, manager-nim? How did you feel about the wink?”

You froze.

No-eul sighed. “Ji-yeong.”

Se-mi grinned. “Nah, let her answer.”

Your mouth opened—then closed—then opened again. But nothing came out.

Sae-byeok finally looked up from her phone, eyes locking onto yours through the screen. And the way she was looking at you—calm, amused, waiting—made your brain short-circuit.

What were you supposed to say? Yeah, that wink almost gave me a heart attack? Yeah, I haven’t stopped thinking about it?

Absolutely not.

So, instead, you cleared your throat and muttered, “It was… fine.”

Ji-yeong and Se-mi screamed.

“‘Fine’?! YOU’RE SO FULL OF SHIT,” Ji-yeong howled.

Se-mi clutched her chest. “Oh my god, she’s dying inside.”

No-eul just shook her head. “You two are the worst.”

Meanwhile, Sae-byeok just smirked—subtle, barely there, but you saw it.

And that was worse than anything.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. �� He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

[jd-loves-fiction]

I would like to ask reader x stellaron hunters (i dunno if you accept multiple characters, if not im fine with only kafka) with a reader that fights like denji from csm.

Like, if you havent seen or read csm i would describe denji fighting style as bashing his head against a wall until it breaks, theres the eternity devil fight that you can probably find on youtube (altought its kinda gory, just telling beforehand.)

Its fine if you dont take the request but if you do thanks in advance :D

🌑 I have in fact not watched CSM but I'm vaguely familiar, so I've kept this pretty vague in the descriptions :)

✦ 𝐊𝐚𝐟𝐤𝐚 ✦

Worried sick + weirdly impressed

She finds the way you fight to be quite interesting, very curious as to why you choose it in particular

Will be asking a thousand questions, particularly about whether or not you feel pain and if yes, why you don't seem to mind it

If it does bother you, she will not hesitate to offer help through her 'Spirit Whisper' (what she uses on Blade to help with the mara)

But if you wish to endure it without help, then she'll respect it but care for you as best she can after fights

Truly, she'd rather end fights quickly so you dont have need to hurt yourself but she cant deny the excitement she feels at fighting by your side

Though her people are incpable of feeling fear, for you, she might just about taste it on the tip of her tongue

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

This hypocrite

Hurts himself constantly and yet worries about you so so much

Scolds you for being reckless constantly even tho he is the same, which you tell him - a fruitless conversation everytime

Always watching your back like a hawk on the battlefield, taking hits for you when he can - he'd rather hurt himself even if you can take it

Loves sparring with you tho!

It soothes him to know that you can keep up with him in battle

That being said he's the type to constantly remind you to take care of yourself, rest, eat well, etc

It's also comforting to know that should the mara take him over you'll have a chance to fight back against him, at least

✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ✦

So hype✨

You're like an SSR character, extra extra special and she's glad to have you on their side

Doesnt give much thought towards if it hurts you or not - all she knows or cares about is that it's cool as shit

Lowkey constantly asking to fight you because she sees it as a challenge to complete

Keeps equating you to a boss in one of her videogames

Hypeman no.1

Always hyping you up and asking about combos MID BATTLE😭

Menace but at least she's always down for the chaos

✦ 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲 ✦

Hypocrite no.3

So so worried 🥺

She's just generally very caring, especially towards those at her side, so obviously will keep an eye on you at all times

But as a soldier, she's not going to try to hold you back, even if she really wants to

She's got her own pride and so would never think to tarnish yours

BUT oh my god if you could stop risking your life every five seconds😭

She gets it, she does really, but she's naturally very empathetic and because of her trauma... Let's just say she's of two minds on the whole situation

Gets over it if you come out mostly alright - generally tries to focus more on the here and now

Please reassure her of what she already knows, that you're strong, capable and that she can trust you to come back to her at the end of the day

[lilbitofsomthin]

Dead Pixel Anya and Tiny Crispy Curly

⚠️CURLYA RANT INCOMING⚠️

TLDR: I only ship Curlya after the crash in a happy ending AU I made up :D

Okay so imma take this opportunity to rant about Curly and Anya’s relationship and the ✨only✨ time I will ever even entertain the thought of Curlya as a ship (cause like most of it is what I see pre crash and I’m like ✨no thank you✨)

First off forget and I mean FORGET anything pre crash. My mans is not ready for all that is Anya. He’s the definition of unworthy. Has not had his ✨arc✨. Has not truly drank his fair share of respect women juice 😔

When it was Curlys turn to care for Anya he failed spectacularly, like a main plot point of the game is how bad he fucked up by standing aside and letting J*mmy hurt her. So BAM he becomes cosmically and ironically put into a mirror position to Anya’s in their relationship.

Because now, in an instant, his very life is now in HER hands. She is literally the only one who can save him. Idk all of the medical knowledge to understand just how royally fucked up Curly was, it’s safe to say that keeping him alive at any rate would’ve been difficult to do. So that fact that she did it, with only the bare essentials of medical supplies, by herself, is nothing short of incredible.

She worked herself to the bone for months to keep him alive. After knowing that he failed her. After knowing her didn’t protect her. Knowing, for a FACT, that he wouldn’t do the same, and she still saved him anyway.

I mean, I’m sure at some point Curly must have realized that too.

And like THATS the part where I’m like “if I was Curly I would’ve fallen in love with her a little bit”. Not in the “oh you saved me I’m indebted to you” or “severely trauma bonded” way, I’m speaking in the characters being able to kinda analyze even in crazy stressful situations (like all the monologues and stuff being very well written and deeply metaphorical gives me the idea that their all capable of self reflection (except of course for J*mmy but that’s not the point).

So like I imagine that Curly can reflect on the fact that, after he failed her, over and over and over again. To the point where everything literally blew up in his face. And when the tables were turned and it was his life in Anya’s hands? She held no resentment, no malice. She saved him over and over and over again. And he had to have realized how incredible of a person she was at that point.

But only now that he finally realizes it, he can no longer say do or say anything about it. And listen that’s not even getting into J*mmy revealing his more obvious abusive tendencies to Curly. Because now not only does he have perspective on how strong of a person Anya is but how horrific the abuse was from J*mmy while being on the receiving end of it. That’s like a double serving of empathy and understanding. I’d like to imagine that, if we got to play as Curly, he’d go through that realization. 🤷

Okay now that THATS out of the way let’s get to FANON SHIT!!!! Time for the happy ending aus baby! Listen I love the game but I wanna see the characters I love get to resolve their traumas cause they deserve it!! I KNOW WHY CANON IS THE WAY IT IS I JUST WANNA PLAY PRETEND ON THE INTERNET!!

Just a quick psa, okay back to it.

I like to imagine that in those rescue aus they happen riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight after Daisuke gets out of the vent and finds Anya (btw I’m gonna say at this point her body was under too much stress and she lost the pregnancy). Apparently overdoses can be reversed so let’s say our rescue team is able to work hard and save Anya and patch up Daisuke.

The rescue team is also clocking J*mmy immediately cause this is all REALLY fucking sketchy

“why’d you send the intern into a vent shaft that you knew was dangerous”

“oh Captain said if I did I’d make my boss proud 😄”

🧍🧍🧍🧍 “dude your like 40 why’d you send the intern half your age that’s fucked up”

like that alone is enough for them to be suspicious but once Anya’s up all bets are off. I mean the shit show J*mmy “captained” the Tulpar to mostly speaks for itself but once Anya can tell someone what happened to her they can put enough together to put him in whatever space brig they have. That’s because we got a rescue team of space feminists who believe victims baby!!!

“And who funded this whole rescue hmmmmm??” I hear you say? No one. Nope. 🙂‍↔️ Capitalism doesn’t get to take the fun out of my character study so imma say their “Volunteer Rescue for International Cosmic Waters” or something idk 🤷. That’s not the point. The point is that this is a big shit show that got revealed by people that Pony Express couldn’t pay hush money to. And when I mean revealed I mean, this became a huge news story cause it had such a great hook. I mean that was the whole advertisement for the game!

“Crew lost in space forced to eat mouthwash while their former captain has been mutilated in the crash”

I mean I saw that on like 5 different thumbnails. Anyway people love a good story and the one Mouthwashing tells with a RELIABLE narrator at this point is tragic BUT salvageable.

Like Curly is gonna have like serious medical intervention and Daisuke will probably need stitches for the gash in his arm and Anya will need to be hospitalized from the stress of keeping Curly alive alone. Swansea might need like, idk a Tylenol or something idk? But like they CAN recover, the wrongs that Pony Express allowed can’t be made right but can at least be helped out with.

I imagine that this news story is like planet wide news. If I know humans, we love to help when we have a target and this story was popular as hell. So id like to imagine that they could the crew with whatever financial troubles they would be having. Curly could afford operations, Anya could afford medical school (which she doesn’t need because you better believed she got full ride scholarships for SAVING A MAN MUTILATED FROM THE CRASH FOR MONTHS WITH A GLORIFIED FIRST AID KIT), Daisuke could go to college (I know some people headcanon engineering or art so take your pick) Swansea could even retire if he wanted idk.

And we get the rare satisfaction of getting to see someone like J*mmy to be revealed for exactly what he is on a global scale. He’s tried, prosecuted and the world is on the crews side and they become micro celebrities (kinda like those news stories where everyone talks about it and pushed a bunch of support for like 2 weeks then moved to the next thing) cause fuck you capitalism human nature is enriched in empathy 😤

So here’s where I like to imagine where fix it fics start. The stage is set, therapy bills are paid and while everyone gets a nightmare or panic attack every now and again, things have officially been given the “happy ending au” stamp. So call “my version” of the story an angst with a happy ending rather than the original tragedy and cautionary tale 🤷

So like NOW we can START on the POSSIBILITY of curlya.

That’s right the idea of these characters getting together is a tick that has crawled in my brain and I am cursed.

Because now Curly has his chance to drink respect women juice. And you better believe my man’s gonna chug that shit. And honestly I can see Anya respecting Curly for trying to grow. Like everything is 1000% platonic (I mean maybe a little one sided crush on Curlys side and maaaybe something develops later on) and the main 4 crew are all kinda hanging out for a few reasons (interviews and meet and greets or whatever people who survive major news stories do) and also like they DID go through a shit storm together so their a little trauma bonded but in a found family way.

Anyways THIS is where I imagine all Curlya stuff to take place. This fun low stakes “we made it through the storm and now we can rest on the shore” kind of happy ending zone.

And like maybe they can get up to shenanigans and work through their trauma and love and support each other. That’s like where my fan content takes place 🧍

⚠️SO IF I EVER POST ANYTHING AND TAG IT AS “CURLYA” THIS IS THE CONTEXT IM PUTTING IT IN!!!!! I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WAS OFFICIALLY RELEASED IN CANON OR IN THE CONTEXT OF THE GAME!!!! I SHIP CURLYA AS A PURELY FANON CONCEPT⚠️

Like idk if this is media literacy or brain rot at this point but that’s my rant thanks for reading :D

[ruruumin]

15 - underlying meaning

today was a warm and sunny day. the clouds were out of sight and the sun was beating down on your skin. it felt a little too perfect. you sat on the outside tables in front of magnolia, sipping on your drink while you and collei waited for nilou and aether to return with snacks. she was wearing a pretty, white lace sundress and birch-wood cardigan over it. cute and simple, the best way to describe collei and her radiant smile. 

she raises her hand towards you, speaking to you through sign language. 'has been a long time. you and aether have been busy.'

you wave her off with your hand, a sigh coming out of your throat. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. i’ve just been caught up with so much stuff that i’ve been losing track of time. i’ve been showing up to class later than i’d like, and on some days i just end up skipping entirely.”

she gives you a reassuring smile. 'i’m not disappointed. last week i've been finishing my lab. but that sounds bad. wanna talk?'

you stare down at your drink, pondering if its worth telling collei the truth. how would she react to your interaction with alhaitham? hey my ex-boyfriend who broke up with me over text, suddenly shows up at the same cafe as aether's date. and he proposed that we work together so they can get together. god, when you say it like that, it's awful.

you lock your jaw. she’s never met him, only heard about him in passing through aether and nilou. maybe she’d give you an unbiased point of view. you know aether has a strong disliking for the silver-haired man. nilou had classes with him before, thought he was just quiet, until she heard about what he did to you. collei could give you the most unbiased opinion out of everyone.

and despite this rationality, you aren’t sure. you don’t want to worry the rest of your friends. you don’t want to bring up your love life anymore than you did in the past. you still remember the night aether called you, the way your voice cracked and trembled as you sobbed uncontrollably, and how nilou and collei stood on the sidelines, unsure of what to do. they gave you the space you needed. you just don’t know if you want to go through that heartache again. let alone put your friends through it.

your thoughts were cut short when nilou approaches the table, smiling and waving to collei. “when is the last time we met up like this?” she asks, crunching on the crisp exterior of her taiyaki. the custard filling was warm and sweet. and she was thankful to have had the day off today because she couldn’t take eating another dessert filled with extra sugary strawberry fillings. 

both of them sat down at the table and you were quick to grab your snack. aether sat beside you while collei and nilou stayed close. 

“it must be tough having to help a certain someone with his suspiciously good love life.” her eyes trailed over to aether, who was absentmindedly sipping from his straw. he was pretending to daydream in a middle of a conversation.

“are you talking to me?” he replies, jokingly rubbing the inside of his ear with his pinky. “wow isn’t this matcha the best thing ever? so good, i can’t believe i didn’t try this sooner, (name) you should totally order this instead of your jasmine milk tea 75% sugar and less ice.”

“okay, you did not have to say my entire order out loud,” you roll your eyes. your reply causes him to pinch your thigh, a yelp coming out of your mouth before you slap his hand. 

“you’re such an ass!”

collei smiles, 'aether needs help, no? two months ago, he almost dated ayaka. he's been through many relationships. what makes kaveh so different?'

aether places his head down on the cool, glass table, mumbling, “well hes the only person i didnt have to help or save, so it just feels different having someone like you without you doing shit for them… or whatever.” 

“she can’t read your lips if you put your head down,” you say, pinching his ear, “i can’t quite hear you, want to speak up big boy?”

he straightens out his back, looking at you with a twitch in his eye, he speaks slower so collei could pick up on his words. “he’s the only person i didn’t help. so it feels different having someone care about you without them being in debt to you. it’s just… different.”

“besides, we should be questioning you instead. you should be the embarrassed one. if i saw my ex out in the wild i would have punched him square in the face. don’t tell me you got too swept up in his pretty looks to say anything rude?”

“oh yeah? how come you didn’t do it when you saw scaramouche? that guy treated you like shit when you first met and then he cozied up to you on my couch! my couch!”

“well he’s a changed man, if anything, i fixed him!”

“i don’t think having sex on my couch counts as therapy!”

“we did not have sex, only heavy make outs. and look whos talking, remember when you were in the backseat of my car with albedo?” 

nilou lets out a long, exhausted sigh. she forgot that everytime they go out together, she should expect a bit of bickering between you and aether. and while it may annoy or confuse other people outside of your group, she and collei know how charming it can be sometimes. she hasn’t seen a pair so close before. you and aether have some sort of freakish telepathic connection that lets you know what’s wrong with each other (if only this extended to arguments, the world would be at peace).

“don’t think i didn’t hear those face-sucking noises of yours! shame! shame on you!”

you gasp, “how dare you slutshame me!” 

“fuck you i hope when you order your jasmine milk tea 75% sugar with less ice they give you more ice and more sugar!” 

“now that’s going too far!”

collei taps on the glass table with her nail, knocking you and aether out of your petty banter. 'stop fighting, especially not in public. kaveh might see!' aether looked back at you before letting out a huff. you both roll your eyes while murmuring apologies under your throats, knowing well on the car ride back it’ll continue. the effort was enough to make collei clap in glee though.

so what happened between kaveh and aether? it sounds like it went well but i need the inside scoop.

“nothing really, i don’t think you missed much collei,” returning back to the topic at hand, you stir your drink with a straw. “they had their first ‘date’ at nilou’s cafe. they probably talked about how boring aether’s outfit was because he wasn’t wearing that yellow sweater vest. things were going well until…” 

nilou nudges your elbow, “he showed up.”

'he? you mean...' collei looks up at you with concern laced in her eyes, 'he did what?'

“more like said,” aether interrupts. “did he apologize about what he did to you last year? or should i be the one to beat his ass for you?”

'no fighting!' collei waves.

“look, he didn’t say anything, really.” you force a smile. “we just talked about school. caught up a little bit and that was it. besides, as much as i want him to apologize to me, i know that won’t happen. he’s not that type of person.”

“i don’t know (name)...” nilou presses her lips in a thin line.

collei pats your hand, giving you the same warm look she always had in her eyes. 'everything will be okay. we are here, if you need. don't worry.'

aether, on the other hand, doesn’t seem quite as convinced. his eyes were laser focused on the crinkling of your nose and the distant expression you had. he’s known you long enough to tell that the absent stirring was a sign there was something more. he doesn’t want to put you on the spot with collei and nilou, but he can’t help it. he feels as if there is something on between you and alhaitham that he doesn’t know about.

and the thought makes his stomach drop. 

you continue with the conversation as normal, laughing about how aether needs your help out of everyone for love. you talk about how disappointed you were not being able to see him dress up more. nilou is still chewing on the tail of her taiyaki while collei nods to your story.

aether is biting the inside of his cheek, listening as a good friend would. he needs to stay focus on the conversation. he shouldn’t think too hard about it. if you said it was just school, then it should be left like that. there is nothing going on between you and alhaitham.

and if there was… what would he do?

₊˚ ♡ masterlist | previous + next.

synopsis; when your friend aether calls for help in his budding crush on his senior kaveh, you're forced to confront your ex-boyfriend by means of playing cupid.

⤷ notes; hopefully the asl portion makes sense. there are specific words that are omitted and the structure of words is different (time + topic + comment).

⤷ taglist [pm to be added, 30/50]

@aixaingela @cherrybb-ily @lupicalbestwolf @arraxthatsonjah @state-of-grac3

@knighttimes @toastedfailure @tired-jaz @whipped-for-fictionals @noellesfactory

@alhaiko @sundays-prince @angel-of-requiem @jaguarthecat @vitanye

@tiramizuloz @luvvhaerin @gabirii @blvdmrcnry jayzioxx

@0lives10 @tamikahoshiko @cr4yolaas @milkuu333 @x-hihihi-x

@kangyeonie @hydration-is-for-weenies @sorcerersseestars @jiminscarmex @backgroundcharactera

[ytcomments-archive]

[dailykugisaki]

Day 355 | id in alt

I was out here just "Wow I should color this so they know I'm gonna put air Jordans on Kugisaki Nobara fortnite tomorrow" then I didn't and just slapped some random shit on. She looks nice though.

[cannosoup]

i think one of the girls from my homophobic ass ex church might ship haikaveh this is literally the funniest thing that has happened to me all week

[thesmashwaffle]

-- ❤️: Favorite character?

Arven. Hands down. The last character that I've loved and resonated with on this level was Hau back in Gen 7, and it takes a lot to even come close to matching that. Like, I love how many layers there is to him as a character, because while you would've expected him to be the resident asshole (a la Gladion and Bede), he turns out to be such a sweet, gentle, and sentimental guy. He was very much going through it with all the shit he was put through, and I can relate deeply to how he thinks more with his heart than his head, how he struggles to communicate with and read other people, and how much he cares about those close to him on the inside. I love him to death, and he'll go down as one of my favorite characters in all of fiction.

-- ⭐️: Favorite Team Star member?

Honestly a pretty tough choice, since there's a good bit to like about all of them, but I think Giacomo is the most compelling to me. I think his design is kickass, I admire how chill he is, and his background as the former student council president is very compelling. (Funny how two of Arven's more well known ships are with student council presidents of some shape or form)

-- 0️⃣: Favorite DLC character?

Listen, this one was a pretty hard choice between the siblings, but I might actually have to say Carmine. Like, I really didn't like her that much at first, and that was mainly because the way she treated Kieran sometimes hit a little too close to home. The way she bad talk or embarrass him in front of the player, the only real friend he made at that point, the way she brushed off some of his feelings as "teenage angst" and just him being emotional, some other stuff... It felt like a spitting image of how my brother used to treat me up until my second semester of high school. Later on though, you can see how she genuinely concerns for her brother, and realizing how she took him for granted in some ways, she comes back around exactly how my brother did. There's definitely a good few more layers to her beyond this, but all in all, she's such a well and realistically written older sibling, and I love her for that.

-- 💥: Favorite Gym leader/Elite four?

Kofu. I love his "fun uncle" energy, and he never fails to put a big fucking grin on my face whenever he's onscreen. I want to give him a hug.

-- 📝: Opinion on each of the Zero Crew? (Arven, Penny, Nemona)

Arven - I think I already said as much as I needed to before.

Penny - She didn't click with me as much as she apparently did for a lot of other people, but I really adore her and what she stands for as a character. I love how well she connects with others like Team Star even despite her introverted nature.

Nemona - Oh boy, where do I begin with you? I've said it before, but I love how she puts her own spin on the obligatory rival trope where instead of trying to be better than the player, she trains the player up to become as strong as she truly is so she can have someone to rival her strength in battle. Even besides that, she's just such a lovable character in her own ways. I adore her enthusiasm, I think her overzealousness can be funny, and she's just the kind of character you just love to love

Also, whether you ship them or just see them as friends, I don't think her dynamic with Arven is appreciated enough. Early on, they do bicker a lot, and he does claim that they "can't get along", but you can tell that she cares about him unconditionally by the way that she shows concern for his wellbeing in her first phone call. Furthermore, Arven even considered going to Nemona for help with the titans before you came along, and actually softens up on her in Area Zero when realizing how much more there is to her as a person. They still butt heads a little in the postgame, but you can tell they're getting along better by the way Nemona implies they've been talking more when bringing up Arven's suggestion for the tournament's name. I could go on for a while longer about this, but all in all, they have better chemistry than a lot of people realize.

-- 🌲: Opinion on the Kitakami siblings?

Carmine - I think I said all that I needed to before.

Kieran - Honestly such a nicely written character. I love his character arc, and as a younger sibling who was also kinda kicked around a lot, I can relate to him in some ways myself. I do like how he's sort of this subtle antagonist though, because Kieran was more or less the catalyst for literally everything that went wrong in the DLC. He was the reason the Loyal Three got revived and antagonized Ogerpon, he created a toxic environment within the League Club, and he awoke and enraged Terapagos. Like, sure, he didn't have these evil schemes and shit like Giovanni and Ghetsis, but in terms of what he was willing to do or risk for his own fulfillment, was he any different from characters like Volo or Lusamine? It's just more understandable and forgiveable in his case because he's just a kid and wasn't nearly as far gone, since he came right back around towards the end.

-- 🫐: Opinion on the BB league members?

I can't say too much for each of them individually other than Drayton, because he's the only one they did all that much with. I do like him in particular most out of the rest for how much smarter he is than he lets on and the layers he has to his character. Crispin is my second favorite of the bunch because I like his passionate energy and love for cooking, plus his blatant crush on Lacey is adorable. Speaking of, Lacey is adorable, and I kinda wish she clicked with me the same way she seemed to with a lot of others. Amarys is... Amarys. I don't want to say I disliked her, but she just isn't interesting to me as a character in the slightest. I think her design is cool, though that's really about all I can say.

-- ⏱️: Favorite Paradox Pokemon?

Penis Dragon Miraidon. The design is so fucking cool, the type combo is one I like, and I admire how both it and Koraidon have more of an established character in the story than any other box legendaries do. The closest we had to anything like it before was Nebby.

-- 💛: Favorite Paldean Pokemon?

God, that's a tough one because there's a good few that I actually really like.

I think I'm gonna have to say the Pawmot line. I like that it actually has an evolutionary line like Pikachu does, unlike the other pikaclones, and all of the designs for it are fucking adorable. I also love how stupidly busted Pawmot is against any pokemon that isn't a ground type.

-- 📖: Favorite storyline? (Ex: Mochi mayhem, Starfall street)

The Way Home. I love how it brings all three of the game's stories into one, gives such a solid introduction to Area Zero, concludes Arven's story arc, and establishes a fellowship betwixt yourself and your three friends. It's fitting that Toby Fox had a hand in this storyline's soundtrack and motifs, because it reminds me a lot of how everything was sort of tied together towards the end of Undertale's pacifist route. (Doesn't help the final boss has glowing blue eyes)

-- 🗣️: Anything you want to say about SV?

As a game, it's certainly not perfect, but in terms of damn near everything else, this might just be one of the best things to come out of Pokemon as a whole. I wish the game had more time in the oven so its flaws could be ironed out and so some people wouldn't have as much reason to drag it through the mud.

Pokemon Scarlet and Violet is easily the biggest hyperfixation I've had in years, and I'm honest to god surprised it's stuck with me this long. Then again, this series has been a part of my life for literally as long as I can remember, so what can I say?

Pokemon Scarvio themed reblog/tag game!

-- ❤️: Favorite character?

-- ⭐️: Favorite Team Star member?

-- 0️⃣: Favorite DLC character?

-- 💥: Favorite Gym leader/Elite four?

-- 📝: Opinion on each of the Zero Crew? (Arven, Penny, Nemona)

-- 🌲: Opinion on the Kitakami siblings?

-- 🫐: Opinion on the BB league members?

-- ⏱️: Favorite Paradox Pokemon?

-- 💛: Favorite Paldean Pokemon?

-- 📖: Favorite storyline? (Ex: Mochi mayhem, Starfall street)

-- 🗣️: Anything you want to say about Scarvio? (Infodump, a rant, or just other thoughts)

Feel free to infodump alongside your answers! Anyone is allowed to reblog :3

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[queencvbra]

thinking about how there are so many normal teenage things Tory doesn’t understand because she’s been basically living unrestricted since she was 13, even more so after her mom’s sickness got worse and there was no way she could enforce any kind of parenting on Tory

[raventao]

Hiccup deserved to hold a grudge. Like, he went through so much shit in that movie, and everything is just brushed under the rug by the end. Like, I still hold a grude against people who were only slightly mean to me (the normal Popular kid vs kinda nerdy anime/bookworm clique esque levels of mean) in HS, and that was over a decade ago! Like, bro had the whole village calling him a waste of space to his face his whole life. I would have been livid if I were in his shoes. That as soon as I was perceived as useful, everyone was changing their tune. And I get that they're trying to show a cultural thing of only the strong survive, but that doesn't negate all the fucking mental and physical abuse he'd suffered up until they decided he was suddenly worthy of being alive. Especially since when the truth came out that he was friends with a dragon, all of that approval instantly disappeared, and he was back to being hated. Right up until he killed the red death and risked his own life for them. I would never for people that fickle and shitty. Familial bonds or crush on Astrid be damned.

I get he was desperate for it, but Hiccup deserved so much better. He should have left. He should have run away and said fuck it all, even if Astrid saw him. What was she going to do? Shoot Toothless down again? Until Hiccup did it, they thought that was impossible. They didn't even believe he did it in the first place. There was not a single goddamn thing she could have done to stop him.

Valka left. He should have left, too. We could have smashed the first two movies together and gotten Valka and Hiccup reuniting in the first movie and kicking Drago's ass with a better than his dragon army in the second without ever mentioning Berk again. Valka said they'd never change. And she was right. She tried, so why was Hiccup's success a different story? Because the narrative wanted a happy ending. We should have gotten Hiccup betraying Berk for having always turned its back on him. It would have been much more believable. It would have been so much more satisfying.

Hiccup deserved better.

As a kid watching httyd you dont really register how horrible Hiccup was treated in the movie-

It was all kinda 'ooh cool dragons!'

At most a 'Oh, his dad doesn't listen to him! Parents never listen to what kids have to say! '

Only to get sidetracked by

'Awww cute dragons!' Once again

But i rewatched httyd again today and holy shit man

Like eveyone of his peers openly hated on him even going as far as wishing him death to his face

Like when Gobber asked what everyone's mistake was in training everybodies response for Hiccup was 'He didn't get eaten' or 'He's still alive'

And you can say 'ooh they were just joking!'

But they weren't friends

You dont tell someone they should've died even as a joke

Evenless so with someone you aren't close with!

For gods sake, Hiccup's father, Stoick, returned from his voyage to all his tribesmen patting him on the back saying things like 'out with the old and in with the new!' and laughing and congratulating him 'thank god, nobodies gonna miss that walking hazard' and his first thought is

'Hiccups gone'

He genuinely believed his tribesmen would be having a jolly good time and congradulating him if his son, Hiccup was gone

( dead or run away- it really could be either with that phrase but for they'd think he wouldnt last on his own which means him running away equates to him being dead)

And thats fucked up

Stoick tells Hiccup to his face that he gave up on him- that he was so glad that the worthless bag of bones he was for his entire life 'wasn't actually all there was'

Hell even Gobber wasnt as supportive as I remember him being

And then everybody just kind of, moves on and is all buddy buddy with him

His father is the only one he gets an actual apology from!

[neverendingford]

.

[nozomijoestar]

i love Claudine but Maya Tendo is creeping up like she might snatch her off that pedestal for fav RevStar character, as is fitting lmao

[b0mblover]

Hate, in Every Sense of the Word.

By: J

major tws for; suicide mention, domestic abuse, abuse, sexual assult mention, murder mention, (really just alot of violence tbh) self harm mention

uh, sorry? that theres so many tws, ig also minor tw for mention of sex too.

uh haha i uh, can you tell what happened tonight? it wasnt even the worst one, just, im tired of it.

talk abt living out of spite bc mannnn, thats all i been going off of for a good while now!

i uh, i really wanna make a certain food bc um. (LOOK I WANNA MAKW A LESS OILY FUCKER OKAY) but my father is awake meaning my mother will be too soon but im scared to even go out of my room bc theyre prob gonna fighttt.

hhhrbd okok ill shut up for now, go ahead and read the angry jirou bullshit ig 😭

(oh yea, if it wasn’t obvious. im talking about my mother in this.)

——————————

yknow,

you havent been a great person

or a good one even.

yet you still question as to why i dont love you

or like you,

maybe you have an idea of how much i hate you.

maybe not

i dont really care about your feelings.

at all.

not now.

i put up with this for fucking 14 years.

my entire fucking life.

ive put up with your shit.

but now?

now im done.

you have no idea how badly you fucked up.

when he said that “im sorry im a fuck up” 

yknow.

he mightve not been right for what he did.

but,

it was just a mistake.

it was a goddamn mistake.

you have any idea how many times ive uttered those words too?

how many times ive repeated them?

how many times i fucking meant it?

just because you “had it bad” doesnt mean shit to me.

you have no goddamn right to treat others the same way.

dont give me that “i dont know how else to act!”

bullshit.

bullshit you dont.

you treated your damn boyfriend just fine!

you had a goddamn kid

you had two goddamn children.

with this man that you fucking DESPISE.

you knew it back then too.

you told me you did.

you fucking told me.

almost nothing can compare to the anger i feel to you right now.

nothing.

you have no right to act like that.

no.

you have no goddamn right to hit another fucking living being.

for such a simple mistake.

i dont care if he talked about it since friday.

i dont give a fuck if he talked about it for months.

you.

you as a goddamn human.

have no right.

none.

in the slighest.

to hit another living being.

for talking about something in your eyes “too much”

or making a mistake.

youre a hypocrite.

need i remind you?

you said that after you broke up with the man you were having an affair with.

that youd be a better person.

stop the fights.

stop the beatings.

stop all of it.

and everything would be okay!

.

i didn’t believe you for a goddamn millisecond.

youre a liar.

just how you said i was.

you didnt quit.

you didnt stop.

hell two months after you hit him again!

you threatened to kill him and yourself!

cmon.

dont you get it yet?

i fucking despise you.

maybe to a degree i feel shocked.

but.

i really dont think thats it.

youre the root of my problems.

every single last fucking one.

——————

need i remind you as how i had to learn to cook, because you were too busy with your damn boyfriend to help me?

.

need i remind you how when i tried to show you that i was fucking cutting myself when i was 9 you only talked about how it looked ugly?

.

need i remind you about how many times you said that you didnt care if i hurt myself as long as no one can see it?

.

need i remind you about how you ignored the rope burn on my neck god knows how many times?

.

need i remind you how you denied fucking multiple peoples sexual assault because “it couldntve been like that”?

.

need i remind you of how many times i almost had to be hospitalized because of your neglect?

.

need i remind you of how many nights i spent alone, in the cold, in the dead of winter, just because you wanted to fuck your boyfriend?

.

need i remind you of what you yelled at me so many times?

.

need i remind you of what i seen?

.

need i remind you of how many times you blamed your abusive behaviors on medication?

.

need i fucking remind you of my entire purpose?

.

i dont care about your feelings anymore.

i gave up years ago.

but now.

i dont feel just numb for you.

i hate you.

in every sense of the word.

.

i dont care of what you or anyone else thinks of me.

.

i dont care about what you think of my appearance.

.

i dont care if you think im too thin or fat or whatever word youll use next.

.

i dont care about what you think because you’ll hate me no matter what.

.

you thought id stop being xxxx when you broke up with him.

you yelled at me.

no.

you fucking screamed at me for weeks.

im tired of even putting in the slighest effort of acting as if i fucking care.

i dont give a fuck about you.

and yknow?

if.

no.

if it would work.

if it was possible.

id fucking kill you.

id stab you.

right here.

right now.

to end my suffering.

to end his suffering.

all of it.

id end it all.

i dont care if its wrong.

because i know no one else knows about whats going on.

yknow.

only one person around here knows what youve done to him and me.

and i havent even met her in person.

yknow.

the people i used to be close with from school.

only just learned you had an affair.

i know that.

the police are do-less.

since you know them.

and hes a man.

not a woman.

it wouldnt be taken seriously.

that he should just fight back.

yknow.

youve ruined what life he has left.

his parents beat him.

his ex wife beat him, and cheated on him.

and here.

youve done the exact same thing.

yknow.

he’ll never get to see how love truely is.

because of you.

because of what youve done.

i cant say i really like him either.

but.

that doesnt give you the right to ruin his life.

.

yknow whats worse?

how i know the only reason that so far youve never dared to lay a finger on me.

is because ive proved that i won’t hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right back.

i know i joke about that night.

but.

really.

hitting you for doing that was the best decision i couldve made.

its kept me safer than i wouldve been for years. 

and even now.

if you were to as so much to touch me.

while in a fight.

id do it all over again.

you maybe 100 pounds heavier than me.

but you dont know how to fight against someone who wont just sit there and take it.

i wont forgive you for what youve done.

even if he will.

.

i want nothing to do with you.

get out of my life for good.