#they even talking about the cold anymore??
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Heatstroke | Max Verstappen
WC: 2.6K
Max x Platonic!Driver!reader, Grid x Driver!reader
Summery: When you made the switch to Formula 1, no one told you how bad the Qatar GP can be
Warning: Heatstoke??
Masterlist
Max Masterlist
y/n y/f/n, is a name thatâs been making headlines for months now. When the rumours first started everyone thought they were just, that, rumours. But in F1 rumours donât just come out of thin air, especially ones like this. Red Bull is changing their line up and theyâre bringing in a female? A woman whose already in her mid-20s. A NASCAR driver, a runner up for the driversâ championship three times. Not many switch from other series to Formula, the other way around. Yes. So, itâs a rumour everyone presumed.
But why are there photos of you in Milton Keynes? Why is Max suddenly following you on Instagram? Why is your NASCAR team not posting you on their social media anymore? How come itâs already the winter break and no confirmation on who will be take the empty seat in the Red Bull team?
You ignored your social media, since someone leaked your move from NASCAR to F1. You stopped caring a long time ago, stopped looking a long time ago. A long life in motorsports taught you not to care. The life of a female in motorsports is not easy even now in the 21st century. Female fans have it hard, female presenters have it hard, female mechanics have it hard, and certainly female drivers have it hard. But it only made you stronger and your skin thicker.
When Red Bull finally announced that youâd be the one driving for them in the new season, they were met with both positive and negative response. Youâre an enigma coming into the sport. No oneâs seen you in a Formula 1 car before, or a car in the feeder series. But you did start in karting and your records are still unbroken.
While everyone was enjoying their winter break, you spent it training in the gym, on the sim, and in previous F1 cars. No time to spare, to get you ready for the new season. A season Red Bull has high hopes for.
You were able to meet Max a few times since you joined the team, but he was mostly off enjoying his break. Only by the time the preparations for the new season that heâs actually got to know you. Surprisingly to many, you and Max got on well with each other. Max instantly took a liking to you, you may be not that much younger than him, but he saw you as a younger sister. Max also did his homework while he was on vacation and watched many of your races in NASCAR and he was impressed, he couldnât wait for you to race in F1. Like his team, he thinks your experience will bring in a fresh eye to the sport and to the team.
The pre-season practice was the first time you met the rest of the grid. Everyone has been pleasant and nice; Lewis Hamilton had a long talk with you about your experience in motorsports as a female and he shared some of his challenges being the only black man in the history of the sport. It was such a long and deep talk; the 7 times world champion gave you his number and promised to chat more later.
Max pulled you to the talking circle he was having, he was talking to Lando, Carlos and Charles. You loved how much he tried to include you in on everything, make you feel welcome.
It was the Qatar Grand Prix, a race almost everyone hated, just for the fact that itâs one of, if not the, hottest races on the calendar. You had no idea how hot it could get, but the team tried to pred you as much as they could. FP1-3 were hard when you were doing long runs, it got hot in the cockpit. Youâre thankful they decided to not have a sprint this year. You had no idea how youâll manage in the actual race. Water was your friend since FP1.
âHow do you handle all that heat?â You asked Max, as you laid on a sofa on the side of the debriefing room, he was on a chair as if he wasnât just in the car melting.
âLots of water and eat whatever Iâm given.â Max said sipping on his cold-water bottle. âDidnât you train for the heat after the last race?â
âI did, but itâs still nothing like the real thing.â You mumbled, Max patted your knee in sympathy.
âHey, you did good though, starting P2 tomorrow.â Max tried to cheer you up, you gave a weak smile.
âOkay, everyone here?â You sat up from the sofa and moved to your chair for the meeting.
The race was too long in your opinion, definitely one of the hardest races you had to do in your career. How can it be so hot at night, the humidity was killing you.
âNo one said itâll be this hard before I joined.â You complain through your radio, something you donât usually do, since the media likes to call you whiney and used as an excuse as to why women shouldnât be in Formula 1.
âThought you might change your mind.â Your engineer teased and you sighed.
âI mightâve.â You joked back, knowing you wouldnât, sweat was dripping everywhere. âHow many laps left?â
â16, hang in there and drink water.â
âYou mean tea, itâs so hot, still donât get why you couldnât throw cold water on me.â You had a gap between you and George Russel in P4 behind you and you were closing in on Lando in front of you. You were getting closer lap after lap. He undercut you earlier in the race and now youâre 2 seconds behind him.
âMaybe next time⊠gap to Norris 1.4.â
The next 5 laps were hard, you managed to overtake Lando, but it took so much out of you.
âOkay, just keep your head down.â Your race engineer said, and it took a few seconds for you to register what he was saying and a few more to answer him.
âOkay.â Your voice was breathy and weaker than earlier.
âAlmost there.â He encouraged you; you hummed and did your best to keep the lead you have on Lando now, youâre in clean air, no car in sight in front of you.
âHow many laps?â You asked but stopped talking as you felt like youâd throw up if you talked more.
â2 more, drink water even if itâs hot.â
You didnât respond, there was no more water, it was too hot, but you drank and sweated everything already. The last lap felt so long, your car slowed down just slightly, but not enough for Lando to catch up with you.
âWell done y/n, thatâs P2!â Your engineer cheered and you smiled weakly proud of yourself for finishing the race.
âYay.â That was the weakest yay youâve ever said. The in lap seemed like it took so long. Max and Lando were already parked. You closed your eyes and rested your head back, you had zero energy, moving seemed like torture. You slowly opened your eyes and took out your wheel placing it on the car.
Max after celebrating with the team, turned to look at you, only to see you still in the car. He frowned and moved back to where your car is parked next to his. He could see you moving a little which gave him little comfort.
âHey, you, okay?â Max had removed his helmet already, his face was flushed red.
âToo tired.â You mumbled and Max strained his ears to hear what you said.
âIâll help you out.â Max said he reached into your car and unbuckled your seatbelts. âCan you stand?â
You gave a weak nod and put your hands on the sides of the cockpit and tried to pull yourself up, but your legs were shaky, Max placed his hand on your waist to try and steady you.
âGet her a cold water.â Max told one of the Red Bull mechanics that came for the car, you leaned on the halo pretty heavily, Max put his other hand on your waist as well when you lifted your leg to hop over. You placed on of your hands on Maxâs shoulder and moved your legs over the halo, before you just sat down on the car, placing your feet on the ground, this took more time than it needed to and much harder than it shouldâve. âRaise your head.â
Max leaned down and unbuckled your helmet before he slowly removed it. Your balaclava was next, putting them beside you he could finally see your flushed face, loose hair sticking to your skin. The mechanic opens the bottle for you, and you take it gratefully from him, the cold water is a shock to your skin, but it offered a much-needed reprieve from the heat. You sipped slowly, feeling better now that you drank cold water. Max was watching you with hawk eyes.
âCome on we need to get weighed.â Max told you after you drank most of the water bottle. You nodded, and turned to put the wheel back in but max took it from you and hocks it back up. Your focus isnât really that good at the moment, so you donât notice Max walking behind you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Youâre too tired to run to your team, but while Lando gets interviewed you walk up to them, you get patted on the back softly. Itâs obvious how much this race had taken out of you. Youâre still flushed, and sluggish.
ây/n, welcome to Qatar.â Jensen said once you stood in front of him, you offered him the best smile you could, but it wasnât that big. âFirst season in Formula 1, youâre second in Qatar how would you rank this week amongst the ones youâve done so far?â
âUh, hardest, definitely the hardest.â You answer, all the lights shinning and the screens around arenât helping with the heat.
âBut you did amazing over taking Lando and getting second place, did you expect this coming into the weekend?â Jensen asked feeling sympathetic towards you.
âWell, um, I expected to do well before the race, during the race I wasnât so sure, but I knew I just had to push through it for the team.â You said and the team cheered you on, you felt like they were farther than they were, your hearing coming and going. Jensen asked you his last question before you were free to go. You felt like your body was on auto piolet. Moving away from the cameras and in the direction of the cool down room. Once you were next to a wall you leaned on it, your trainer was by your side in a second.
âYou need to sit down for a moment.â He told you, and in the middle of the hallway he helped you down, you just did as you were told. He unzipped your suit and pulled it down to your waist. Somone handed him a water bottle, he put some on his hand and patted your cheeks to cool you down. âWe need an ice vest.â Someone rushed away, you just closed your eyes head on the wall. âHere, drink more.â
You sat there for a minute, before Max rushed over, he just finished his interview.
âAre you okay? Is she okay?â Max asked you before turning to your trainer, he crouched down to your height to have a closer look. âShe should head to the medics.â
âNo, no, itâs alright, I just needed a moment.â You said opening your eyes to look at your teammate.
ây/n, donât p-â
âIâm fine, Max, I swear.â You say and put your hands on the floor and push yourself up, you lean on the wall for a moment, before you give Max a pleading look, he sighs and gestures for you to move in front of him. You walk into the cooldown room, and Lando is sitting alone.
âWhat? Did you have the debrief or something?â Lando asked jokingly, he had a cold water bottle pressed to his face.
âYeah, talked about how to take you out of the race next time.â You joked and sat on the floor, not even trying to sit in your chair.
You didnât slip your suit back on for the podiums, leaving the top part hanging by your waist. Your movements were still slow, but you managed to smile and celebrate a little with the other two drivers. You were the first person off the stage and instantly a cooling vest was slipped over your head, you were still hot. Max ran down the stairs after you.
He saw you stumble a little, you had to go to the medical centre. Max knew you well enough to know that if he asked you, youâd brush it off. But he got what he wanted one way or another. So, the reigning world champion came up behind you and just scooped you up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck instantly.
âMax! what are you doing?â
âTaking you to the medical centre, and no youâre not fine.â You looked at your trainer over his shoulder, but one look at him and you saw that he agreed with Max.
Letâs say Max was right, you had a heatstroke and were on the verge of passing out. You missed the debrief much to your displeasure. The doctor gave you a list of things to do and not to do with your trainer by your side. The moment you were in your hotel room, you rushed to the bathroom to shower. The cold water feeling amazing on your skin, the AC was on. You just wore a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts to bed. And sleep you did. You really needed that sleep.
You woke up the next morning to knocking on your door, you groggily got up groaning as you did. Opening the door, you saw Max and Kelly. Theyâre both in casual clothes, smiling at you.
âHey, whatâs up? Itâs too early.â You greeted them opening the door more for them to enter.
âItâs past 12.â Max informed you.
âOh.â
âHow are you feeling?â Kelly asked you and placed her hand on your skin to see if youâre still radiating heat or not. Max had informed her of your state last night, and from the glimpses she managed to see of you she knew you were feeling the heat.
âBetter.â You smiled at her kindness, since you and Max have gotten close, you and Kelly also have formed a friendship.
âWe ordered room service to your room.â Kelly told you; you thanked the couple. You threw on an oversized shirt on top of your clothes before you joined them, they had the small sofa for themselves, so you took the comfy armchair. âYou did amazing yesterday, y/n.â
âThank you, wish I felt as good as I did.â You complained and sighed.
You three talked about everything and nothing in particular. When the food arrived, you knew that Max has spoken to your trainer, because it was all the foods that the doctor suggested for you to eat. You drank to glasses of juice and a bottle of water as well. Keeping hydrated was on the top of the list.
âWho are you going back with to the UK?â Max asked, he wouldâve loved if youâd moved to Monaco, but after joining the team you moved closer to the factory in the UK.
âOscar and Fernando has to go to the factory so weâre taking his jet.â You informed him and he looked satisfied with your answer.
âJust take care of yourself.â
âSure, dad, I will.â
âHey!â
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if you would've been the one â rafe cameron
summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out.
warnings: angst, swearing, not proof-read
author's note: if you guys didn't know, i love writing angst so enjoy!!
The Pelican Yacht Club hums with the familiar buzz of a humid summer day. You stand behind the bar, the scent of saltwater mixing with the tang of citrus as you slice limes for the afternoon rush. The air is thick, almost suffocating, but youâve gotten used to it. Itâs a typical dayâuntil it isnât.
You glance up when the door swings open, letting in a flash of sunlight that makes you squint. It's Sofia. She isnât scheduled today. The sight of her here, so out of place in this moment, makes your stomach twist. You force yourself to look away, feigning interest in the drink menu as she walks past. You canât help but feel a twinge of resentment as she greets the staff with her bright smile, as if sheâs the sunshine that everyoneâs been waiting for.
Part of you hates her for that smile, hates the way she effortlessly lights up the room. But itâs not really her youâre mad atâitâs what she represents. Rafe Cameronâs new girlfriend. The girl who has no idea about the summers you spent next door, about the nights you sat on the dock with him, talking about everything and nothing. The girl who has no clue about the history between you and Rafe before she ever came into the picture.
You find yourself inching closer, pretending to fix a shelf of liquor bottles while you strain to overhear her conversation with your boss. Sofiaâs voice is low but excited, the kind of tone people use when they have news thatâs too good to keep quiet.
You catch bits and pieces of the conversationâsomething about a new start, a fresh chapter. Your heart pounds as you try to piece it together. Then you hear it, clear as day.
âIâm engaged,â Sofia says, a soft, dreamy smile spreading across her face. âRafe proposed last night.â
You freeze. The glass in your hand slips slightly, a cold splash of water running down your wrist, but you barely feel it. Youâre too stunned, too caught in the moment. Engaged. Sheâs not just his girlfriend anymoreâsheâs his fiancĂ©e. And sheâs leaving. You hear her tell your boss sheâs quitting, planning to move in with Rafe, start their new life together.
Your heart sinks, the words echoing in your head like a tolling bell. Engaged. Moving in with him. The world blurs around the edges, your fingers gripping the counter as you try to steady yourself. You force a smile when your boss catches your eye, but it feels thin, barely there.
Your heart thuds violently against your chest, every beat echoing like a cruel joke pounding in your ears. It feels as if your very emotions are ripping at your heartstrings, tearing them apart one by one. The realization claws at you, raw and unyielding. Engaged. You canât even say the word in your head without feeling your throat tighten, a wave of nausea creeping up as if the world itself has betrayed you.
Your lips curl, the bitterness flooding your mouth as if youâd just bitten into a sour lemon. Itâs a twisted smile, one that burns with hatred and betrayal. She had no ideaâhow could she? How could she possibly know the history, the gravity of everything she just shattered with those simple, giddy words? Bitter tears prick at your eyes, the kind that sting and make you blink rapidly, as if you could will them away.
Without thinking, your fingers fumble at the ties of your apron, ripping it off with a sudden, violent tug. The fabric falls to the floor with a muted thud, but it feels like a thunderous crash in your ears. You donât care whoâs watching; you donât care what theyâll say. The room seems to tilt around you, your vision narrowing as your breaths come in shallow, rapid gasps.
You place your trembling hands on the counter, feeling the cool surface beneath your fingertips as you try to steady yourself. It doesnât help. You bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you suck in a ragged breath, trying to rein in the flood of emotions threatening to drown you. The noise of the yacht club fades to a dull hum, everything around you blurring as you fight to keep it together.
Suddenly, nothing around you matters anymore. The clinking glasses, the murmur of the club members, the dull chatter of your coworkersâall of it fades to a distant, meaningless buzz. Your job, your manners, your reputationâall the things youâve been clinging to for a sense of normalcyâseem laughably small in the face of what youâre feeling. The rage and heartbreak surging inside you demand an escape, a release you canât find standing behind this bar pretending everything is fine.
Without a second thought, you shove the door open, storming out of the yacht club. No one notices. No one even calls your name. The warm, sticky air hits you like a slap in the face as you step outside, but it does nothing to calm the storm brewing within you. You stumble forward, gasping for air, your chest heaving as if youâre drowning. You bend over, hands clutching your knees as you choke on your sobs, each tear hot and unforgiving as it spills down your cheeks.
You force yourself to look up at the sky, its bright blue taunting you. The sun burns harshly, casting long shadows over the marina, but you only feel the darkness wrapping around you. A bitter laugh escapes your lips, followed by a curse you fling at the heavens. You want to scream, to demand an answer from whatever cruel force is out there pulling the strings of your life. What about her? you think desperately, the words echoing in your mind like a broken record. What about her made her deserve a ring, Rafeâs ring?
Your hands clench into fists as you straighten up, trying to find your balance, but the ground feels like itâs shifting beneath you. The memories of Rafe slam into you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable. The late nights by the dock, the way he used to look at you when he thought no one else was watching, the soft, fleeting kisses that felt like promises heâd never actually made. They all flash before your eyes like a haunting nightmare you canât wake up from.
It hits you then, like a punch to the gutâthe realization that everything you shared, everything you held onto, meant nothing now. Heâs chosen her. Heâs given her everything you once dreamed heâd offer you. And in that moment, the weight of it all is too much to bear, your knees nearly buckling as you clutch your chest.
A rush of adrenaline surges through your veins, and before you can even think, your feet are moving. You take off, sprinting away from the yacht club, away from the suffocating weight of it all. Where youâre going? You have no idea. You just need to move, to run until the pain isnât the only thing you feel. The wind pushes against you, almost as if itâs trying to slow you down, but you ignore it. You let it whip through your hair, the strands tangling into a mess of disheveled curls as you race forward.
Your feet pound against the pavement, carrying you closer into town, toward Figure 8âthe gilded paradise of the wealthy, where your story with Rafe first began. The roads twist beneath you, familiar yet foreign now, each corner a sharp, painful reminder of the past. You pass the spot where he kissed you for the first time under the flickering streetlight. The bench where you once sat for hours, talking about dreams that were never meant to be. The old corner store where heâd steal glances at you when he thought you werenât looking. It all burns a hole straight through your chest, the memories hitting you harder than the humid wind in your face.
You donât stop. You canât. The images flash by in a blur, each one slicing deeper into your already bleeding heart. Itâs like youâre running through a living nightmare, haunted by ghosts of the life you thought you might have had. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the tears streaming freely now, hot and unrelenting. Mascara streaks down your cheeks, black rivers tracing the contours of your faceâa perfect, messy representation of where you were mentally.
You push yourself harder, faster, until your legs scream in protest and your lungs burn with every gulp of air. The world around you blurs, the people, the cars, the housesânone of it matters. You keep running, driven by the pain that wonât let you rest. Your chest heaves, a raw ache settling in as the adrenaline begins to fade, replaced by the crushing weight of exhaustion. You stumble to a halt, bent over, hands on your knees once more as you gasp for air.
Youâre breathless, hair a wild halo of loose curls sticking to your tear-streaked face. Your vision swims, a cocktail of sweat and tears blinding you as you look up at the sky, feeling nothing but the hollow ache in your chest. Here you are, in the place where you once made all your memories with him. But it feels like a stranger nowâempty, cold, and unwelcoming.
You stand there for what feels like an eternity, hands braced on your knees, gulping down air as if youâve just surfaced from drowning. You canât even process where you areâall you can feel is the tight, agonizing pressure in your chest, like your heart is being squeezed by an invisible fist. Youâre vaguely aware that people are walking by, probably staring at you, but itâs like theyâre part of a distant dream. Their gazes feel like nothing more than a blur on the edges of your vision.
But you donât care. Youâve been stripped raw, exposed in a way that makes everything else fade into insignificance. You push yourself upright, your fingers digging into your waist as you take in deep, ragged breaths, trying to slow the pounding of your heart. The mascara streaks have dried, the salty residue of your tears leaving your cheeks tight and sticky. You close your eyes for a moment, just a moment, trying to pull yourself together.
Then you hear it. A voiceâhis voice.
"Y/N?"
The sound of your name hits you like a bolt of lightning, jolting you back to reality. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the familiarity of it wraps around you like a cold, clammy hand. You know that voice better than your own, and yet, hearing it now feels like a punch to the gut. Itâs haunting, the way it slices through the air, so soft and unsure, as if heâs almost afraid it might actually be you standing there, looking as broken as you feel.
Slowly, you turn around, your eyes widening as you meet his gaze. Rafe Cameron stands just a few feet away, his expression a mixture of shock, concern, and something else you canât quite place. For a second, it feels like the world stops spinning, the sounds of the town fading into the background until itâs just the two of you, standing there like the past has come back to drag you under.
He takes a hesitant step closer, his brow furrowing as he takes in your disheveled appearanceâthe wild curls, the streaks of makeup, the look of utter devastation in your eyes. You can see the questions forming on his lips, the confusion in his eyes. But youâre too stunned to speak, the words trapped in your throat. All you can do is stare back at him, feeling the sharp sting of fresh tears welling up again.
âWhat happened? Are you okay?â Rafeâs voice is laced with genuine concern, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. His eyes scan your face, searching for answers, and for a fleeting moment, he looks like the Rafe you used to knowâthe one who held you close on quiet nights, the one who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.
But the sound of his words makes you feel sick to your stomach. The irony of his compassion now, when it feels like heâs the one who drove the knife into your heart, twists inside you like a dagger. You let out a bitter, humorless laugh, the sound cutting through the air like shattered glass. Itâs as if heâs playing a cruel joke, and youâre the punchline.
âWhat do you care?â you snap, your voice raw and venomous. You can feel your top lip quiver in disgust as you shake your head, unable to look at him without the pain flaring up like a fresh wound. His expression falters, the shock evident in his eyes. Itâs like heâs been slapped, his confusion deepening as he takes in the sheer hurt radiating off you.
âYou donât get to act concerned,â you spit out, each word drenched in the bitterness thatâs been festering inside you. âNot after everything. Not after this.â The last word comes out almost as a whisper, your voice breaking under the weight of it.
Rafeâs expression shifts, a deep crease forming between his brows as he stares at you with wide, bewildered eyes. Itâs almost laughableâthe look of shock, the utter confusion twisting his features as if he genuinely has no idea why youâre standing here, mascara-streaked and heartbroken. He takes a small step closer, his voice soft and pleading.
âWhat did I do?â he asks, sounding clueless, like a child who doesnât understand why theyâre being scolded. His tone is so sincere, so filled with concern, that for a split second, you almost believe him. But then the truth crashes over you again, sharp and unforgiving, and it sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through your veins.
You scoff, a bitter sound that feels like acid on your tongue. His naivety, his complete obliviousness to the damage heâs caused, only fuels the fire inside you. You look up at him, your eyes blazing with the kind of betrayal that words canât fully capture.
âI donât know, Rafe,â you say, your voice dripping with venom as you take a step closer, your gaze piercing right through him. âYou tell me. Maybe an engagement, perhaps?â
You spit the words out, practically throwing them at him, your voice cracking under the weight of your own disbelief. You watch as realization dawns on his face, his eyes widening slightly, the color draining from his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Itâs like heâs been struck dumb, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger and the pain radiating off you in waves.
The silence between you is deafening, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. You can see it in his eyesâthe moment he pieces it together. And itâs almost satisfying, watching the horror settle in, watching him realize that the life heâs built, the future heâs promised someone else, has shattered you in ways he never anticipated.
âYou didnât think Iâd find out, did you?â you whisper, your voice hoarse as the tears well up again. âYou didnât think it would matter.â The words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory, and for once, Rafe Cameron has no response. He just stands there, staring at you like youâre a mirror reflecting all the mistakes heâs made.
âIâm sorry, Y/N.â
The words fall from his lips like an empty promise, and you canât help but scoff, the bitter laugh bubbling up uncontrollably. You know it means nothing. It can never mean anything. No apology, no amount of regret can ever take back whatâs been done, what heâs taken from you. Your chest tightens as the anger swells up, hotter and sharper with each passing second.
âOh, youâre sorry?â you spit, your voice rising in pitch with every word. You can feel your fists balling at your sides, your body shaking with the weight of everything youâve tried to swallow down, tried to bury. âYouâre sorry?â
You throw your arms up in the air, an exaggerated motion of frustration, a physical manifestation of everything inside you thatâs about to break free. âYou think some bullshit apology is going to make up for what youâve put me through?â you shout, your voice rising to a scream. The words burst out of you in a raw, jagged rush, like youâre finally tearing through the wall of calm youâd built just to keep from falling apart. âYou think saying âsorryâ is going to make me forget everything? Forget you? Forget the way you made me feel like I was the only one in the world and then turned around and chose her instead?â
Your breath is ragged, your chest heaving as your emotions spill out of you uncontrollably. Youâre not even sure where the words are coming from now, but they come in a torrent, desperate and aching. "How am I supposed to wonder for the rest of my life," you continue, your voice shaking, "why you chose her instead? What was it about her that made you pick her over me, Rafe? What the hell did I do wrong?"
You step closer, not caring anymore about the distance between you. Your face feels hot, your pulse pounding in your ears, but you can't stop yourself. "You think I wonât wonder, every goddamn day, why I wasnât enough?" you add bitterly, the weight of your words crashing down on you.
âI didnât do it to hurt you, I⊠I did it because sheâs stuck by my side through all of this stuff Iâve been going through.â
The words hit you like a slap, but you donât let him see the sting. Instead, your head snaps over to him, your eyes narrowed so dangerously that if looks could kill, heâd drop right there, dead. Every ounce of frustration, anger, and betrayal gathers in the pit of your stomach, and your mouth twists into a bitter frown. It feels like your entire body is ready to explode.
âAnd what? I wouldnât have?â you snap, voice raw with fury. âYou didnât give me the fucking chance to, Rafe!â Your heart is pounding now, each beat a furious reminder of everything youâve been throughâof the way heâs shattered you, piece by piece. âYou gave up! The second things got a little hard between us, you gave up. We couldâve worked through it if you actually tried!â
The words fly out of you, harsh and cruel in nature, but they donât feel like enough. You shove him, your hands landing firmly against his chest in a fit of frustration. âI love you, Rafe!â you scream, the sound of your voice trembling with the weight of everything youâve been holding back. âI fucking love you, and it has destroyed me watching you give your all to someone else. You have ruined me!â
And thatâs when it breaks. The dam cracks, the tears flood, and youâre not just cryingâyouâre sobbing, your body wracked with the weight of it all. Your chest aches with the sobs, your body collapsing under the strain as you stand there, shaking uncontrollably in the middle of the street. All the rage, all the hurt, all the unanswered questions spill out of you like a river thatâs finally burst its banks.
Rafe stands frozen for a moment, as if unable to process the sight of you, broken and vulnerable in a way heâs never seen before. His face goes pale, his eyes wide with guilt and horror, realizing that heâs the one whoâs caused all of thisâheâs the one whoâs done this to you. And the weight of that realization hits him harder than anything else could.
Without another word, he pulls you into his chest. The gesture is sudden, almost desperate, as if he needs to hold you as much as you need to be held. His arms wrap around you tightly, firmly, like heâs afraid you might disappear if he lets go. You can feel his body against yours, the warmth of his chest as you crumble in his arms, your sobs echoing between you both.
For a moment, you stand there in his arms, the two of you swaying slightly as if the ground beneath you is unsteady. His grip on you is firm but gentle, like heâs trying to hold together the pieces of you heâs broken, letting you cry out your frustrations, your sadness, your heartbreak. The tears flow freely, soaking into his shirt, and he just holds you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head. He doesnât say anything, because he knows thereâs nothing he can say to make this better. So he lets you cry, lets you release everything youâve been carrying.
For just a second, you almost let yourself lean into him. His hold feels like comfortâlike a memory of what it used to be, back when you felt safe and wanted. But then the reality slams into you like a tidal wave. Heâs not yours anymore. He belongs to someone else now, someone who wears his ring, someone who gets to wake up next to him every morning. The realization crashes down on you, a flood of emotions so overwhelming that you choke on your own sobs, the pain squeezing your chest until it feels like you canât breathe.
âI canât stand to see you like this, Y/N,â Rafe says softly, his voice trembling as he looks down at you. His eyes are filled with a deep sadness, like heâs finally seeing the full extent of the damage heâs caused. He pulls back just enough to see your face, his hands cupping your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. The way heâs looking at youâitâs almost unbearable, like heâs mourning something heâs only just realized he lost. âThis isnât your fault,â he continues, his voice cracking slightly. âYouâre right, itâs my fault. Itâs my fault for not trying harder.â
His words are raw, filled with a regret youâve never heard from him before, and it makes your heart ache even more. You want to scream at him, to push him away and tell him that itâs too lateâthat his apologies donât change anything. But youâre too exhausted, too broken to fight anymore. You just stare at him, tears still streaming down your face, your lips trembling as you try to find the words to respond.
âBut it doesnât mean that I donât⊠love you,â he whispers, his voice barely audible. The confession hangs between you like a fragile, broken thing. You can see the truth in his eyes, the love thatâs still there, buried beneath layers of mistakes and regret. Itâs there, as real as the pain in your chest, and it cuts you deeper than anything else he could have said.
The words sink into you, bittersweet and hollow. Itâs what youâve wanted to hear for so long, and yet it feels like a cruel joke now, a confession that comes far too late. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you try to steady yourself. His loveâit doesnât change whatâs happened, it doesnât erase the hurt.
âYou donât mean that,â you whisper, your voice breaking as you shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. Itâs almost like youâre trying to shake them off, as if denying them will somehow lessen the pain. You close your eyes tightly, squeezing out the last of your tears because looking at himâseeing the raw, honest look in his eyesâwill only make it hurt more. Itâs too much. The truth youâve waited so long to hear is finally being spoken, but itâs laced with the bitter sting of timing thatâs all wrong.
Rafeâs grip on you tightens, his hands trembling slightly as he holds your face, desperate to make you believe him. He swallows hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he searches your expression, as if heâs looking for a way back to you, a way to undo everything thatâs happened. âNo, I do mean that,â he says, his voice thick with emotion. He pauses, the words hanging between you, heavy and filled with a regret so palpable it feels like a punch to your gut.
âIâve known it since the day I met you,â he continues, his eyes boring into yours as if heâs trying to imprint this moment into his memory, to make you feel the weight of his confession. âBut I made a mistake. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life, and I know that now. Iâve known it every single day since. And thatââ his voice cracks, and he looks away for a brief moment, as if he canât bear to see the pain on your faceââthat is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.â
The sincerity in his voice sends a fresh wave of agony crashing through you. You want to scream at him, to tell him that itâs too late, that heâs made his choice, and thereâs no going back now. But the words get caught in your throat, choking you, leaving you gasping for breath. Because as much as you want to deny it, as much as you want to hate him, thereâs still a part of youâdeep downâthat wants to believe him. That wants to believe youâve always been the one, that heâs just as haunted by the loss as you are.
But it doesnât change the fact that heâs made his choice. Heâs with someone else now, someone who gets to have the version of him you once dreamed of, someone whoâs standing by his side while youâre left picking up the pieces of what could have been. And that reality cuts through you like a knife, leaving you reeling.
âI wish that mattered,â you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible, each word a struggle as you force yourself to look him in the eyes. The storm of emotions churning within you feels like it might tear you apart from the inside, but you need him to hear this, to understand the depth of the pain heâs caused. âBut it doesnât change anything, Rafe. It doesnât change the fact that youâre engaged to someone else, and Iâm just⊠supposed to accept that.â Your voice breaks on the last word, the sound coming out fractured and hollow.
Rafeâs expression drops, and for the first time, you see something close to genuine despair flicker across his face. His blue eyes, which once held a spark of recklessness and life, now look empty, consumed by a dark realization. Itâs as if heâs seeing the full weight of his choices for the first time, the horrifying dread of what heâs done sinking in like a stone dropped into still water. You can see the exact moment it hits himâthe gravity of the mistake heâs made.
When he proposed to Sofia, he thought he was finally getting his life together. After years of chaos and self-destruction, he believed he was taking a step towards stability, towards becoming the man he always felt he needed to be. He convinced himself that this was the right path, that Sofia was the safe choiceâthe one who could ground him, the one who would stand by him through thick and thin. But now, standing in front of you, seeing the devastation in your eyes and hearing the brokenness in your voice, he realizes the truth heâs been running from all along.
Heâs made a grave mistakeâone he canât undo.
The realization tears through him like a knife, and his knees nearly buckle under the weight of it. He looks at you with a mix of horror and regret, his face pale, his eyes glassy as if heâs about to crumble right then and there. He reaches out a hand, hesitating, his fingers trembling as if heâs afraid to touch you, afraid that this might be the last time he ever gets the chance.
âY/NâŠâ he breathes out your name, his voice breaking on the syllable. He looks utterly lost, like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss. âIââ His words falter, and he closes his eyes, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. When he opens them again, theyâre filled with a sorrow so deep it takes your breath away. âI thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was finally getting my life together. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.â
You shake your head, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. His confession feels like a dagger twisting in your chest, confirming what youâd feared all alongâthat he never truly let you go, that you werenât just imagining the way he used to look at you, the connection that lingered despite the time and distance.
âBut you chose her,â you whisper, your voice laced with a bitter sadness. âYou chose her over me, Rafe. And now youâre standing here, telling me this as if it changes anything. But it doesnât. Itâs too late.â
The words hang between you like a death sentence, and you can see it in his eyesâthe crushing realization that heâs lost you for good, that this is the consequence of his choices. The haunting realization that heâll have to live with this regret, this aching emptiness, for the rest of his life.
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#obx#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe angst#rafe cameron imagine#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x female reader#obx 4
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comfort - trafalgar water d. law
a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law đđđ you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic
a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive đ
nothing but fluff here! đ
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when he comforts you:
-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.
-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.
-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.
-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that đ) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.
-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.
-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.
when he needs comforting:
-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.
-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.
-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.
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a/n: soft law my beloved đđđđđ i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast đ it's been a minute since i wrote one of these đđ
a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!
a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!
#one piece#one piece fic#one piece x reader#one piece fanfic#one piece headcanons#one piece fluff#one piece trafalgar law#op trafalgar law#trafalgar law#one piece law#op law#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#law x you#law fluff#fluff fic#via's fics
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reblogging comment review from @zyafics
i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal đ«Ą let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <đ3 âŹïž
Some gave you that lookâyou know, the one that said, âOh, sweetie, you again?ââwhile others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.
maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly
Brand new driverâs license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, youâre getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dadâs been arrested.
don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!
It wasnât the first time youâd seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.
why did this line hit me so deep???
Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriffâs department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.
love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google
JJâs next to you, his leg bouncing like heâs got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. Youâre already annoyed, and it doesnât help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.
THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO
"You wanna talk about sisters too?"
the way i wentâ
JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one youâd given him when he was seven.
u mesh so well with canon events đ©·đââïž
You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet
Itâs been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and youâve pretty much been living at Rafeâs new place ever since. Sure, youâve got your own house, but it just doesnât feel like home anymore. Rafeâs apartment though? Itâs like your little safe haven now. You donât officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, heâs stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but itâs like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.
so bf of him
âAnyways,â He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, âYou were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."
why is this so funny LOLL
âYou know, itâs funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.ââThatâs so sweet.â
im literally gonna miss them sm đ
Wardâs expression turns cold once more, but thereâs a flicker of somethingâmaybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.
FEARRRR
âLetâs go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. âYeah, letâs go home.â
such a cute ending <3
FINAL THOUGHTS âą i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??
THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)
request: "a rafe enemies to lovers đ«Ł the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea thatâs all I got you can do whatever else the rest đ" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"
word count: 6.3k
warnings: last chapter <3
Youâve been to Kildare County Sheriffâs Department way more times than you care to admit
Being the oldest kid in your familyâand somehow the only actual adultâyou lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.
Then there were the countless times youâd been there for your friends.Â
JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that lookâyou know, the one that said, âOh, sweetie, you again?ââwhile others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.
But you always showed up, no matter what, because thatâs what you did. You took care of your own.
The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driverâs license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, youâre getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dadâs been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasnât the first time youâd seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.
You were stuck.
You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldnât stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. âHeâs in the back,â he said, like you didnât already know.
When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. âHey, kiddo,â he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.
You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasnât gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.
Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriffâs department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.
You wish you could be anywhere but here.
JJâs next to you, his leg bouncing like heâs got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. Youâre already annoyed, and it doesnât help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.
âWill you stop bouncing your leg JJ?â You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.
âWhy the fuck did he have to come?â JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.
âJJ, not now.â You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.
JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. âThis is so messed up,â he grumbles.
âMessed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.â
âLike I knew he was there, you dumbass?â JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
âMaybe stop leaving her alone.â
âOh, here we go,â you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.
Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had beenâŠtense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.
You know your brother hates every second of it.Â
âOh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?âÂ
Rafeâs eyes narrow, his fists clenching, âHow many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?â
"You wanna talk about sisters too?"
You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way theyâre clawing each otherâs throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. Itâs like theyâre about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriffâs office.
"Shut the fuck up Maybank."
âFuck you, Cameron!â JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, âYou think youâre better than us?â
Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, âBetter than you? Yes.â
âDonât act like youâre doing this for her,â JJ scoffs. âYouâve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.â
âThatâs enough,â you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. âYou two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. Itâs nine in the morning. I didnât get a wink of sleep, and Iâm not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.â Â
JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. âWe donât need this assholeâs help. We can handle it ourselves.â
Rafe sneers. âHandle it? Like youâve handled everything else?â
Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. âSit your ass down or leave, Iâm not going to repeat myself.â
They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way youâre letting them keep tearing each other apart. Youâre exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them⊠again.
Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongueâfor your sake, you know. JJâs sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.
"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"
Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like itâs personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant âfine.â You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "Iâm sorry." You give it a little squeezeâapology accepted, for now.
JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know heâs pissed, but at least for the moment, heâs staying quiet.
The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.
The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, whoâs watching you like heâs afraid you might disappear. You know he wonât relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.
Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.
Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafeâs lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.
âAlright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.â
âAre these incidents documented with the sherrifâs office?â Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.
âYes, sir. We have reports dating back toâ" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, âAbout eight years ago, give or take.â
Rafeâs head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.
âWhat happens after I file this?
âOnce filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.â
âWhat if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?âÂ
The officer only nods sympathetically. âViolating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.â
Rafeâs still looking at you, âDoes she have to serve him personally with these papers?â
âItâs crucial that heâs officially notified. We handle that part, though.â
Rafeâs lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, âIf he contests the order, heâll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your fatherâs behavior, thatâs unlikely.â
You hope to God he doesnât. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.
âHow long does the process usually take?â
You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you donât have to look back to know itâs Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.
"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."
You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing.Â
The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, âIâll get everything started then. Just a moment.â
As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor.Â
âThis is the right thing to do, right?â
You know it is. Youâve known for years, but itâs still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life couldâve been so different.Â
JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one youâd given him when he was seven. âYeah. He shouldnât be able to just...â He trails off shaking his head.
Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, âYouâve got this. Itâll be okay.â
Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, âIâll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.â
This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but youâre not alone.Â
 "Thank you.â
JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters.Â
"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.
The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."
You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing thereâs no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.
This is a step towards freedom.
Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.
After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."
You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.
Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh.Â
Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"
You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."
JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?â
You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
âGotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.â
A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. Youâd forgotten about that one.
Rafeâs eyebrows shoot up. â'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?â
âAsk her,â JJ nods in your direction.
âYou called me that shit?â
You bite your lip, âTo be fair, I called you worse things.â
Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, âLike what?â
âYou donât want to know.â
The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. âWeâre gonna get through this,â he murmurs, his voice filled with determination.Â
You hug him back, âI know, Jay.â
Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, âReady to go?â
JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.â
You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. âNo but thank you.â
JJâs shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"
You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."
He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.
You know heâs never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day theyâll find some common ground. Itâs a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and itâs why you never push him.Â
âYou sure youâre doing okay?â
You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, âYeah, just a little tired.â
He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, âDid you get any sleep last night?â
"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.â
He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. Iâll even put that bullshit show you like.â
You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn heâs already on the other side of the car, âLove Island is not a stupid show!â
He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.â
âYou watch it too.â
âOnly because you force me to,â Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.
Itâs been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and youâve pretty much been living at Rafeâs new place ever since. Sure, youâve got your own house, but it just doesnât feel like home anymore. Rafeâs apartment though? Itâs like your little safe haven now. You donât officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, heâs stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but itâs like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.
As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. Itâs such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. Youâre both quiet for most of the drive, but itâs not awkward or anything. Itâs actually kind of nice. You never imagined heâd be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about itânot with his fatherâs trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.
When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. Itâs such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.
Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. Itâs cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.
âWanna watch your show?â Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile youâve come to love.
You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. âAnd you say you donât love it.â
He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but itâs the distraction you desperately need. Rafeâs arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafeâs chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.
âRest, baby,â he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. âIâve got you.â
Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafeâs in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, heâs already smiling at you.
Youâve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had âknownâ him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger.Â
Stretching, you ask, âWhatâs all this?â
âDinner. Figured you could use a good meal,â he says casually, like itâs no big deal that heâs cooked for you.
You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. âLook at you, Chef Rafe.â
Ever since he moved in on his own, heâs been slowly learning how to take care of himself. Youâve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.
He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. âEat before it gets cold.â
You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell heâs proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and thereâs something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.
"What is it?â
âNothing.â
âRafe. Whatâs wrong?â
He hesitates, then sighs. âGot a call from my lawyer. About Ward.â
The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. âWhat about him?â
Rafeâs thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. âHe wants to talk.â
âDo you want to talk to him?â
Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. âYeah. But every time Iâve tried to stand up to him, itâs backfired."
You squeeze his hand, âHe canât hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. Youâve made your own life."
He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clearâvulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if heâs silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.
âYou think so?â
It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.
âWouldnât be here if I didnât.â
âOkay. IâŠIâll think about it.â
The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background.Â
Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.
But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. âYouâre still worried, huh?â
He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. Iâm scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.â
You press a kiss to his clothed chest. âYou wonât go back there. Not while Iâm here.â
He tightens his hold on you, âYou know youâre too good for this world. Itâs ridiculous.â
You narrow your eyes, âAm not.â
âYeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.â
There it is. That nickname. âYou know thatâs so stupid, right?â
He grins, completely unbothered. âYou love it.â
You nudge him with your elbow. âI tolerate it.â
He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. âFits you perfectly.â
You roll your eyes, but you canât help the grin tugging at your lips.
âIf you say so.â
His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. âI do.â
âShup up,â You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. âDonât even know how you came up with that shit.â
Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg. âItâs really stupid.â
You raise an eyebrow, teasing. ââCourse it is.â
âRemember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.â
âAnd you were a suck-up motherâ"
âAnyways,â He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, âYou were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."
You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. âOh, so you were secretly in awe of me?â
âMaybe,â he admits with a sheepish grin. âOr maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.â
âI made everyone look bad.â
âOkay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.â
You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasnât I?â
âGood?â He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. âYou were more than good, you were unreal.â
"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?â
âYou came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But Iâ I guess I remembered it. It fit you.â
You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didnât know you remembered that."
âYouâre kinda hard to forget Maybank.â
Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, âShut up.â
He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before youâre pulling away, mumbling against his lips.
 âYou know, itâs funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.â
âThatâs so sweet.â
You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, âHmm. You were always showing off, too.â
âWell,â he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, âWe both grew out of that phase. Mostly.â
âMostly,â you agree with a grin. âBut I guess some things never change.â
âYeah,â He doesn't take his eyes off your face, âSome things donât change.Â
Thereâs a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.
âI donât want to mess this up,â He admits quietly, âWith you.â
âWeâve come this far, havenât we?â
Rafeâs fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, âYeah, we have.â
âIâll keep you in check, Cameron.â
He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. âYou're too good for me, yâknow that?â
You laugh, âI know.â
Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but heâs relentless.
"Rafe!â You gasp between fits of laughter.
"Say sorry,â he demands, his fingers still working their magic.
"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.
He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.
"Wrong answer."
You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.
Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, youâre surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."
He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.
"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."
"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."
"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, it does.â
ââ·àłââ·àłââ·àłââ·ââ·àłââ·àłââ·àłââ·ââ·àłââ·àłââ·àłââ·ââ·àł
Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.
His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and thereâs no way you could accompany him inside.
Instead, youâre stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.
The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. Itâs a text from JJ.
"how's it going?"
You quickly type back.
"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."
"heâll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".
"not helping???"
"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."
You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.
Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.
When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here.Â
Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."
Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.
"Only came to tell you something."
Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That youâre an ungrateful piece of shit?â
Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.
"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."
âAfter everything I've done for you?"
Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."
Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."
"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, âNo one needs you.â
Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"
Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, âI donât care.â
Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?â
âYouâre not getting under my skin.â
Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, itâs about her now, is it? What makes you think sheâll be any better for you than I was? She doesnât know you like I do."
Rafeâs temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He canât take the bait.
"Keep her out of this.â
âYou think youâre so righteous, so superior. Youâll need more than just some girl to get you through.â
âI donât need you,â Rafe insists, his voice firm. âI never did.âÂ
Wardâs expression turns cold once more, but thereâs a flicker of somethingâmaybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. âYou can pretend youâre free, but you know Iâm not so easily forgotten.â
Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. âI donât need to hear anything else from you. Iâm done.â
âYou wonât be able to keep her safe.â
He knew the conversation wouldnât be longer than five minutes.
He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing youâre outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him.Â
Heâs striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but itâs no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. Youâre always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.
âYou okay?â
Rafeâs arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, âYeah. Iâm okay.â
You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Wardâs harshness. âI was going crazy waiting out here.â
âSorry for making you wait,â Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder.Â
âI donât care,â You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, âYou did what you needed to do. And Iâm proud of you.â
He smiles a small, tired smile that doesnât reach his eyes, âNeeded to hear that. Thank you.â
You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. âFor what?â you ask, leaning into him again. âYou did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.â
You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.
âI felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. Itâs not completely gone, but itâs lighter.â
You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. âAnd itâll keep getting lighter,â you assure him.Â
âYou think?â
âI know. Youâll keep needing to stand up to him,â you acknowledge, âBut it will get easier each time.â
His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. âAnd youâll be here with me?â
âAlways.â
Rafeâs expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
His lips linger there.
âYou really are too good for me,â he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.
âI know.â
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but itâs a different kind of intensity than youâre used to seeing in him. Itâs softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.
âLetâs go home."
You nod, a smile spreading across your face. âYeah, letâs go home.â
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Marshmallow lover | B.B & S.R
>> Bucky comes home from a mission, flashbacks are brought back. But luckily you know what Bucky needs to clam down. Not only you and Steve but also hot chocolate. <<
Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader
Wordcount: 2.852 Words
Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, anxiety/panic, mention of punching), nicknames (babydoll, princess, majesty), fluff
Authors Note: Dedicated to @mercurial-chuckles. Cause you asked for Stucky, hehe. I had another idea but I just havenât had enough motivation or ideas to write it. So I hope you like that one anyway.
Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: second person + November Prompt: Home | @stuckybingo] Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | C3 | Free Space | @steverogersbingo]
Masterlist | Stucky x Reader Masterlist
It was one of these early winter days, where the weather wasn't too cold but you could already feel the breeze the winter was bringing with itself. The air was cool; your hands would have been ice blocks already, but luckily your boyfriend was holding one of them, and the other has been stuck in your pocket since the two of you left the house.
Actually, the two of you thought about staying home until Bucky came home â from the mission â in the evening. But when Bucky told you that he wouldn't be home before the late evening, Steve decided to force you in a loving way to go shopping with him. He knew you loved decoration, so it was the best opportunity to make you leave the house and have some fun with him. Otherwise, you would have sat in the hallway, watching the front door until Bucky walked inside.
It happened once, and both of your men made sure that they would distract you if the other one was on a mission and came home late. Of course, they understood why you acted like that; it was weird to have one of you not in bed at night or missing at the table during meals. Even watching television was different if one of them was on a mission â which didn't happen often anymore.
But after the last time you refused to leave the spot in the hallway unless you had to use the bathroom, Steve took you shopping this time. And luckily, he managed to get your mind off of the fact that Bucky could be injured when he came home. Even though you seemed distracted, Steve felt a little restless; he knew you felt the same, but he just hoped the decoration was distracting enough for you. Little did he know that you hoped the same for him, because deep down, you wanted to return home to make sure that Bucky was fine once he came home. But you tried to calm yourself; Bucky could call you once he was home, and he could take care of himself for a bit too. Plus, he sometimes even enjoyed having a moment just for himself after some missions.
When you had some items you wanted and were happy with, you and Steve made your way back home. It was just a short walk, but the later it got, the colder it was. You were shivering, and Steve's strong arm around your waist and his muscular body pressed against your side didn't help much to warm you up. âYou know, my tooth...â you chuckled softly, moving them inside your shoes even though you didn't really feel them because of the cold anymore. âThey are pretty cold. Guess they would fall off if I bumped them.â
âThen we get you home pretty fast. Don't want your toes to fall off. Bucky wouldn't like that either," Steve joked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. The two of you didn't talk much; there was no need. It was just the closeness to one another, the happiness and love that you felt whenever you were close to your boyfriends. So you just walked quietly along the streets with him, the sky slowly darkening, and you were glad you were almost home already.
After a few more minutes of walking, you finally walked into the warm house. It was almost a burning feeling on your skin, and you hissed softly. Steve had to shove you into the house, or else you would probably have walked backwards and out of the warmth back into the cold. He chuckled behind you, his calloused hands holding you by your waist before pushing you further into the hallway so he was able to close the door behind you.
âIt's warm, isn't it? Maybe itâs because you're surrounded by such hot men.â Steve laughed softly, taking your jacket, before he took off his own jacket and shoes. You narrowed your eyes when you walked further into your house, looking around to find Bucky. You were sure he was home; his shoes were in the hallway where they belonged. But instead of your boyfriend coming immediately to greet the two of you, he was nowhere to be seen. Steve's voice interrupted your thoughts before you could even start to worry. âMaybe he's in the bedroom; he loves showers after a mission. While you look for him, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate for us.â
You nodded, pecking Steve's lips softly, before you turned away to walk to your shared bedroom. You didn't hear any noises, neither the shower nor Bucky looking through the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You tried as best as you could to not worry about him. Bucky was sometimes pretty quiet, especially after missions. It was almost like he had to get used to home again to know he wasn't on a mission any longer.
The door of your bedroom was almost closed, but you saw a little part of the bed, the small bedside table, and a hint of something else â feet. Or it was more the toes that were curled, like they were the only part that was holding him grounded. You pushed the door open, looking to the side where Bucky was sitting. Your eyes widened as you saw him curled up into himself. His knees were pressed against his chest, his hands properly bruising his skin already, while his eyes were unfocused. Bucky was just staring into the air with a fearful expression on his handsome face.
You slowly walked closer to him, unsure what to do. Sweat was running down his forehead; even his hair was sweaty, and his clothes were stuck to him like a second skin â soaked in sweat. You're not sure how long he was sitting there like that; his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched, and you noticed his other muscles being more visible than usual through his clothes. Bucky was tense like he was still in a fight, and in a certain way he was â but instead of fighting against some people like Hydra, he was fighting his own battle with himself, with his fear in his mind.
âBucky?â You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper when you kneeled down in front of him. There was still some distance, so he wasn't able to reach you if he would punch or kick. You have seen Steve in such situations with Bucky before; he had to take the one or another punch already â which caused Bucky to feel even more guilty after. But Steve always assured him that it's not as bad as it looks and that it would never change anything about the way he feels for Bucky or sees his boyfriend. And even though he never hurt you, Bucky was always sorry that you had to see him struggling so much with his nightmares and flashbacks from the past â you never judged him; you only loved him more when he couldn't love himself.
Bucky didn't react when you called him by his name. His fingers only tightened around his legs. You wanted to reach out, but you know you shouldn't. Bucky once had his hand around Steve's throat the moment his fingertips brushed along his lover's leg. And you knew Steve was stronger than you; he had struggled to get the other super soldier off of him, so you were pretty sure Bucky would crash you before you could even call for Steve. And both told you to never call Steve for help; they trust and love you, but they were too worried about you â and Bucky would never be okay with himself again if he would hurt you. And you understood it.
After another time calling him by his name but getting no answer, you sigh softly. Tears slowly formed in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and everything inside of you screamed to wipe them away, to pull him into you, but you were too afraid to scare him even more. So, you decided to make the only thing that came as an alternative solution to your mind â Steve.
From the time you walked into the bedroom to the moment you got up to walk to the door and shout for Steve, only a few minutes passed. But for you, it felt like at least twenty minutes, not being able to help Bucky and not wanting to leave his side while you tried to come up with something that could help without Steve's help.
You opened the door of your shared bedroom a bit more, looking out into the hallway. âSteve!â You shouted, earning immediately a soft âYes.â from him. He was still making the hot chocolate, but he was worried the moment you shouted his name instead of coming into the kitchen with Bucky. âIâI need you here. Or Bucky needs you... WE NEED YOU.â
Steve would have chuckled about your wording, but he knew that this wasnât a situation to laugh about. He immediately turned off everything that could burn. His footsteps were loud and heavy when he walked to your shared bedroom. He noticed you looking out of the door, narrowing his eyes when he didn't see Bucky close to you. The big grump was actually holding you close, hugging, carrying, or kissing you the whole time. But right now, it was only you who waited for him to come to the bedroom.
"Where's Buck? Are you okay? Did he⊠What's wrong?â Steve asked, not even letting you a moment to answer. You brought your hand to his cheek, stroking it softly before giving him a slight, soft smile. He knew you didn't feel like you tried to show, but he knew you did it to calm the two of you down. It wouldn't help any of you to freak out or be more worried. After a moment, you take your hand away, taking a step to the side, and letting Steve walk into the room.
âHe doesn't react when I talk to him. I-I don't know what I can do, but you... You trailed off, watching Steve's eyes widen as he saw your boyfriend looking like a lost puppy. You watched him walk over to Bucky, pulling you with him before Steve pushed you to sit down on the bed, and he kneeled down in front of Bucky. Steve was way closer than you were earlier, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them while you watched your boyfriends intensely. âYou know what to do, right?â
Steve nodded, smiling softly. He turned his head back to Bucky, placing his hand on the brown-haired man's knees. Bucky hissed; his metal hand shot up to place a punch into Steve's pretty face, but he caught Bucky's hand. Steve held Bucky's hand tightly, trying to force his hand back down, and after a moment it even worked. You watched them with slightly parted lips; when did Steve find out how to catch Bucky's hand â especially his metal hand?
âBuck, it's me. It's Steve. You're home; do you hear me?â Steve asked, his voice soft. He ran his thick fingers slowly up and down the side of Bucky's thigh. He leaned a bit closer; his other hand was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and you wonder if Bucky was trying to punch him with his other hand but he didn't. âYou're home, with me and our princess. You know, your babydoll.â
Bucky gasped softly, his eyes wider than before. His hands made grabbing motions, and Steve smiled softly, feeling Bucky being less tense than he was just a moment ago. Steve let go of his boyfriend's metal hand, using his hand to wipe away some sweat from Bucky's forehead.
âHi, Buck,â he chuckled. Bucky slowly calmed down, noticing his surroundings. Bucky was slowly letting go of his legs, stretching them slowly between Steve's legs while his head fell forward against Steve's shoulder. âYou're home; we are home. We got ya. Scared our princess a bit.â
âMy babydoll?â Bucky's voice was hoarse and quiet, but Steve understood him anyway. He slowly nodded, caressing Bucky wet strands. Steve then turned his head to you, nodding at Bucky and mouthing that he just asked for you before he even asked anything else. âMy babydoll, my Stevie.â
âWeâre here, Buck. Do you want her to come closer as well, or do you need a moment?â Steve asked softly. He knew â you both knew â that Bucky was still pretty shaken up and that he could use some time to calm down or that he needed to feel the two of you, to smell the two of you, and to see the two of you to calm down completely.
Since the brown-haired man didn't really trust his voice, he only lifted his hand, making a grabby hand into the direction of the bed where you were still sitting. His other hand was interlaced with Steves, holding him close to Bucky. You slowly moved down from the bed; your knees were cracking softly when you stretched them out, and Steve laughed softly.
âThought we were old, but you're cracking just like we do,â he told you, smirking before he moved a bit to the side to make space for you in front of Bucky. You rolled your eyes, moving closer to Bucky, but before you could have even said anything or moved another inch, he pulled you into his lap. You were straddling his thick thighs, your chest pressed against his.
Bucky hid his face in the crock of your neck, pulling Steve against his side so the two of you â the two people he loved the most, who meant everything to him â were as close as possible to him. After a moment of comfortable silence, he lifted his head. He was still sweaty, but his ocean blue eyes were brightened, and the sparkle you and Steve loved so much were visible again. A soft smile was tugging at Bucky's lips, causing you to smile as well. He leaned closer, pecking your lips before he did the same with Steve, sighing softly.
âHi,â he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder once again. âMissed you two. Do I smell hot chocolate?â
Both you and Steve laughed softly. When it came to hot chocolate, especially with marshmallows, you had to be faster than Bucky, or else he â accidentally â drank everything before you even reached the kitchen.
âMhm, itâs probably cold again, but I can warm it up while you get a shower, sweaty,â Steve teased, using the nickname on purpose instead of âsweetyâ. Bucky rolled his eyes, growling softly, but he then nodded. Steve wasn't wrong; he felt like he had already taken a shower, but this time with his own sweat. âWe got some marshmallows, and our princess got a lot of decorations.â
You nodded; your eyes lit up as you opened your mouth to start and explain what you got and why you got it. Bucky chuckled, loving your excitement. But he wanted you to show him and explain it while the three of you would be sitting wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and marshmallows. So he pressed his lips onto yours before you could even start to tell him more about it.
âBut I'm taking my babydoll to take a shower with me,â Bucky grumbled, and there he was again. Your Bucky, the love of your and Steveâs lives who never let go of you, who needed to be close to you, needed to kiss you and just show you all the love and affection. Of course, he did the same with Steve too, but he had another task, so it was you who was going to join him in the shower. âPlus, need her to wash my hair. Feels so much better when she massages the shampoo into my hair with her soft hands.â
âOf course you do,â Steve chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky and then your forehead before he got up to get the chocolate ready. Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve turned around, smirking at him. âYeah, with as many marshmallows as you wish, my majesty.â
âGood boy.â Bucky grinned at Steve, who suddenly blushed and turned away. âMission completed, making Stevie blush. Now, my next mission is to get you into the shower with me. Mhm, missed you. I love you so much, babydoll. And you too, Steve, I know you're standing in the hallway.â
âI love you too,â you say in unison with Steve, who then made his way down the hallway back to the kitchen. Bucky got up, keeping you in his arms before he walked with you to the bathroom, getting the two of you into the shower. It wasn't just cleaning him; it was a lot more Bucky being possessive and touch-starved, and you were his solution â you were gladly his way to get touches and be happy when it meant kisses, hugs, soft touches, and all the compliments you loved so much to hear from your boyfriends.
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like a phoenix. (2.7k words)
what if phoenix- instead of being virtually indestructible, actually wasnt? what if he was actually incredibly prone to death, but he just⊠never stayed dead?
(trigger warning for a multitude of causes of deaths!! some in detail and some not. other twâs include implied suicide attempts, implied child neglect, derealisation and thinking one is already dead. be warned! take care of yourself!)
at 9, he wakes in his bed after having a high fever and his mom ships him off to school hours after it began. he finds it odd, because last heâd checked his temperature (that morning, when he told his mom he felt like he was going to die and his mom had left to go run errands, barely sparing him a glance), his temperature had been at 107 degrees farenheit. that was definitely high, but after he slipped into unconsciousness, writhing and restless and in a lot of pain, he woke up to his mother checking his temperature and saying he was fine to head off to school. he didnt feel fine, but his temperature had gone down significantly enough that his mother felt like he had no excuse not to go. hes glad he went to school though, even as he shivered, sneezed and sniffled, because there he found a friend in a boy with a funny bowtie and a heart made of gold.
he crunches and chokes on glass shards and poison but doesnt die. the doctors dont find anything wrong with him, aside from feeling a bit ill, so he goes back into the courtroom and dollie is convicted of murder. hes happy his roommate is away for some theatre troupe thing, because the sickness eventually catches up to him and he throws up shards of glass, acid and blood. it cuts into his throat and burns his eyes and he swears, he swears he dies right then and there, freezing and shaking and everything hurts. but when he wakes up hours later, the sun having set and the only light source in his dingy dormroom the moon outside, hes amazed to not feel sick anymore. but the puddle of sludge is drying beside his face and he considers himself lucky, or maybe unlucky, because unlike dahliaâs other victims, he actually lives to tell the tale.
phoenix arrives early to the office, having been in the public library nearby reading a book on reincarnation. he enters the office and promptly has his skull caved into his brain. he does not see his assailant, but when he wakes, theres an oddly dressed girl crying, crouched over his bossâ cold body. he doesnât think about the drying blood in the back of his head, or how cold miaâs body is (and why he can even tell, considering the fact he has not touched her corpse) or the chapter in the book heâd been reading that talked about quantum immortalityâ all he thinks of is proving maya feyâs innocence.
as it turns out, being constantly anxious and terrified of mortal peril actually has its perks. maybe the fact heâs a lawyer whose only ever dealt with homicide cases definitely wasnât benefiting his mental wellbeing either. in any case, its that fear of literally everything and constant feeling of impending doom that makes his body react before his mind does. taser! danger! maya! so, he gets tasered. and it fucking HURTS, but he feels more relieved than frightened as the searing pain shoots through him, because heâd been able to push maya away before von karma got to them both. wasnt a symptom of death by electrocution an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and imminent death? maybe he was going crazy. when he comes back though, its to his head in the lap of a crying spirit medium, so maybe a psychotic break isnt too bad if it means everyone else gets to escape with no damage to their own psyche.
its only after she stops screaming in terror- oh my god, nicks a zombie!! kyahh!!!- and nearly beating him with her bulky magatama necklace, that she tells him what she saw. (âlike, there was a sudden bright light and then i realised it was coming from you! but when i tried to touch your glowing skin,â she says it like its the most absurd thing sheâd ever seen, which really said something considering the fact she was from a family of people who could channelthe dead âit was HOT! like, japanifornia summer hot! blazing! i was only able to check your pulse after you cooled down a bitâŠâ). maybe its this that makes him less alarmed by the way his skin glowed in the dark of his trashed bedroom, after drinking himself to death following a certain phone call from a terribly sad, newly bossless detective. he doesnt think he can bear the taste alcohol ever again, after that.
maybe the number of times heâs died of blunt force trauma to the head should be a cause for concern, even more so when he wakes up without any of his memories. heâs terrified, and doesnt even knows who he is, until he does, and is able to prove maggey byrde innocent. fun times! he should probably watch out to make sure his next death wasnât to the head, lest he be as mentally impaired as a number of people liked to say he was⊠(and he should probably also be concerned by the fact he was already thinking of the next time heâd die, but ah well, blame it on the concussion).
as it turns out, getting whipped to death was not on his list of ways he thought heâd die next, but life liked to mess with him like that, it seemed. still, dragging his delirious self to the bathroom of his office to try and save the infected wounds from killing him wasnât all that fun, and heâs immediately reminded of his first death, slow and painful, alone and scared of what came next. he feels bad for feeling relieved when maya shows up and screams upon seeing the state he and the bathroom (thatâd heâd accidentally trashed when his legs gave out after he opened the door, a number of bottles fallen to the floor beside him) were in. he stops her from calling the police- there was no point, he didnât have much time left. but when she asks what she could do, he goes quiet. (âŠjust⊠stay here? i dont- he coughs up a distinctly red shade of spit. maya makes a noise between a choked cry and a whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. but phoenix was shivering worse now, and hugs himself tigher. i dont want to die alone.) so she stays with him, on the cold bathroom floor, as his labored breathing eventually slows. when he awakens, he finds maya asleep leaning against him, and promises to get her burgers as a thank you.
who knew death by a monkey throwing a giant bronze bust of max galactica at you could happen? at this point, heâs almost glad he was basically immortal, because there was no way in hell heâd allow his autopsy report to say âcause of death: monkey manslaughterâ! edgeworth would laugh himself to tears if he saw! not that he could see. or cry, because he was dead. and not coming back. damn.
so edgeworth isnt dead! yippee? he thought it was his thing to get reanimated after death, not edgeworths. when he saw him, standing in the middle of the police department, alive and breathing and very much not dead, he nearly started laughing. he mustâve finally gone insane! curse the amount of times heâd died of brain related injuries, not that he knew how many of them there were at this point. he might actually have laughed a bit, because pearls was looking at him like he was losing it (he was) but he couldnt really bring himself to care as he had more pressing issues at hand, like saving his best friend from a crazy serial killer holding her hostage, and punching his other best friend in the face for faking his own death (because really, dying was his thing! not edgeworths!). and if he pulls edgeworth into a hug immediately after, throwing caution in the wind (you only live once, right?), the warmth- a normal, human temperature, unlike his burning hot when he came back from death- is enough to stabilise his harried mind for just a moment, before he has to return to his guilty client and his hopeless situation.
by some crazy turn of events, he actually doesnt die from having boiling hot coffee thrown at his face. it burns, and maya screams when she sees the boils on his face after that first trial with godot, but after throwing a wet towel over his face and putting him in timeout on the sofa for 12-hours, the burns go away as if they were never there. he fell asleep at some point, and after alot of back and forth debate, they eventually came to the conclusion that 1. his body heat rising to burning levels when he dies must have caused his body has to grow immune to heat and 2. since sleep was like a âtemporary deathâ, a âtemporary woundâ would just heal like it did when he died of normal wounds, right? he didnât want to dwell on it too much, because maya was looking at him like she wanted to test that theory for real, so he quickly changes topics before things got out of hand.
so their theory on the immunity to heat thing was correct! âŠalmost. larry had tried to stop him, but it was fire and he was basically immune to heat, right? nope! his skin burned and boiled but he didnât die as he tried to run across the burning bridge. even so, nothing hurt more than falling through one of the burnt planks and slamming onto the surface of the freezing cold rushing stream below. luckily the death was near immediate, but unfortunately he came to while in the water still, so he swallowed a sizeable amount of water before paramedics arrived. he hears the doctors find his survival miraculous, despite the scorching hot fever he was now under. he blacks out again, and comes to in the hospital, feeling absolutely terrible.
the horribleness feels familiar though, and when edgeworth walks in, he realises what it must be, when the man presses the back of his hand to his temple and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. (oh. he thinks, tearing up despite himself. it must be the fever. iâm going to die like this again.) his internal monologue mustâve been external though, because edgeworth balks (âagain?!â). but phoenix was crying in hiccups and sobs, feeling terrible and like he was nine years old again, wishing his mother were there to nurse him back to health like sheâd never done before. he faintly hears edgeworth sitting down on his bed and reaches out, gripping the mans waist like it was a lifeline. in a sense, it was. âdonât go.â he whispers, gripping the man tighter like heâd disappear into thin air (again). âplease, please donât go.â in his delirium, he nearly wails in despair when he feels edgeworth move, but he was only moving to readjust himself so heâs lying next to him, their bodies so close that it must burn, but the only sign edgeworth shows that heâs in pain is a wince and the crease of his brow. he allows himself to be cried on, curling a protective arm over phoenixâs burning body. âi- i dont know whatâs going on, wright, but iâm not, iâm not going anywhere, okay?â he seems to be attempting exasperation, but it comes out terrified and concerned, but phoenix is fading quickly, so it might just be his waning mind making up things that donât exist. âi am terrified. your body is life threateningly hot andâ wright? wright!â
he comes to with nurses surrounding him, and a distressed edgeworth swearing on his life that that man was dead, his body was seizing and on fire and- and his heart stopped beating! but phoenix couldnât dwell on it, because the mention of fire immediately brought him back to why he was in the hospital at all. and plus, it gave him the chance to use his best friends sensitive treatment of him afterwards to convince him to play defense attorney, so that was nice. still, he feels like he dies when he finds out dahlia had actually been iris and that godot was actually his dead mentors apparently not dead boyfriend. oh, and he was also a murderer. he also feels like he dies when dahlia- actual, serial killer and dead by execution dahlia, was exorcised from mayaâs body. but that had more to do with his soul leaving his body in terror rather than actually dying, so that was a nice change of pace⊠probably.
later, heâd had to have a conversation with edgeworth to give him an explanation on just what the hell heâd witnessed in that hospital room. although, apparently his re-aliving symptoms mustâve started becoming more dramatic, because miles describes it as his whole body glowing as bright as the sun, and then his eyes opening for a moment to reveal nothing but white, glowing eyeballs with no irises. phoenix has to convince him to still board his flight the day after, that he was okay⊠probably. maybe not safe, but definitely okay. (still, edgeworth stays the night at his, and they hold eachother close, basking in the shared warmth of two alive bodies in heat equilibrium, listening to eachothers breathing and rhythmic heartbeats, no signs of impending mortality in sight, save for, what did the french call it? la petite morte? most of all, phoenix basks in the promise miles makes to him. âiâm not going anywhere,â he repeats, over and over like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was phoenix. âiâm not going anywhere, i promise.â)
and when he loses his badge, he thinks he really does die, permanent and definitively. he feels far away from his body when the forger is called to the witness stand. feels like a ghost when the council walks out the room and past him, making no eye contact and answering the unanswered question on the tip of his tongue. feels his life crumble to pieces when a blonde man with a pleasent, almost saintly smile gives him the most maddeningly sympathetic look and tells him he is sorry for his loss, as if there really was someone dead. only, the only one dead mustâve been him, because there was no one else there who had just lost their life. he couldnât even hear himself as he laughed, which turned into sobs, as he excused himself and fleed to his bicycle. not one pedestrian bats an eye at the state he is in, so he must really be a ghost, cycling past speeding cars and large trucks and buses as if it couldnât kill him, because he wasnât there, he was already dead. when he reaches his office, freezing and quiet and dreadfully void of any human life, he passes by the window his boss had died at and sees his reflection, unkempt and red faced and badgeless. he wants to scream, but he couldnât because no one would hear a ghost scream, so instead he just sits down in the spot his mentor had lost her life in, and mourns.
when two weeks later a warm, incredible alive life falls into his hands in the shape of a little girl with a too big tophat and a joy for being alive that heâd lost years ago, well, maybe he is glad that he couldnât die for real, if only to be able to wake up to that beaming grin as his little girl tries to pull her daddy out of bed because sheâd made breakfast, and it only smells burnt because of the magic something sheâd added as a special ingredient. he eats it, char and all, because he canât taste the burnt-ness of it anyway, but he could taste the love and care put into it, and that was more than enough to take his mind away readying himself for his next death. instead, he thinks of his daughterâs next performance at the wonder bar, and their next trip to kurain, and milesâ next visit. for once, he thinks of living.
#this was supposed to be an idea in bullet point form but it morphed into a fic#maybe iâll repost this on ao3 with more detail#i dunno how i didnt realise how quickly thisâd become angsty. tbh i thought itd be really funny if maya was like âNICK dont die on the SOFA#THE NEXT EPISODE OF NICKEL SAMURAI IS ABOUT TO COME ON AND YOUR BODY IS TOO WARM FOR ME TO ENJOY ITâ#narumitsu#ace attorney#aa#phoenix wright#miles edgeworth#maya fey#mia fey#godot#dahlia hawthorne#diego armando#angst#fanfiction#fanfic prompt#actual phoenix phoenix wright#wrightworth#mitsunaru#headcanon#naruhodo ryuichi#mitsurugi reiji#ayasato mayoi#gyakuten saiban#ace attorney trials and tribulations#ace attorney justice for all#trucy wright#pearl fey#my post
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FREEDOM OF SPEECH
No Nut November - Day 10
NNN Masterlist...
-†When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels
It was obvious that tensions were high. Anyone could see that. After being friends with the triplets for so long, you felt like things couldnât change, yet you found yourselves proving that wrong. You saw the way he looked at you, only because you were looking at him too.Â
Everything, down to the way you acted and dressed revolved around him. You just couldnât help it. You wanted, no, needed him to notice you, to see you. Â
Yet after what felt like years, his behaviour didnât seem to change. You tried to convince yourself that he was just excellent at hiding his feelings towards you but if anything, they were on show.Â
âYeah, this is y/n! Sheâs my best friend, the one I told you about.â A shudder crept up your spine as he introduced you. It shouldnât have bothered you, but you just couldnât help it. Thatâs all you were to him, a best friend. You tried to be grateful, after all you were friends with the fucking Sturniolo triplets. And here you were, pitying yourself because you wanted more with one of them. Â
You just couldnât get over it, over him. How was it fair that he had total control over your mind. The little moments you used to fawn over just turned into self-deprecation. Any other girl you knew that had caught Mattâs eye wasnât like you. They were prettier and had mastered the art of make-up. Their hair was styled and flawless even after the hours of a party. It was just something you couldnât do.Â
Yet, his hand would still drop over your shoulder, rubbing your skin as you watching a film. Heâd insist you borrow his jacket when it got cold, goose bumps rising to your skin. A few of them ended up in your persona collection after he denied the return saying, âkeep it, they look better on you.â There had to be something, right?Â
Months of trying felt pointless, flirting fell flat and as far as you were concerned? Matt still thought of you the same. You werenât going to sit around anymore just pining over someone who obviously didnât feel the same. Â
So, when another guy stood in front of you, a hand stretched out as an invitation for a dance, how could you say no. Gawking at Matt wasnât going anywhere, and you didnât want to never endlessly pray that heâll pull you close. Why get your hopes up when an attractive man is stood in front of you now?Â
Although, when you placed your hand into his, Mattâs eyes were on you. He liked you, hell that man loved you. He didnât miss anything you handed out to him. His anxiety just stepped in front whenever he wanted to act upon it. No amount of talks with his brothers fixed that.Â
He wasnât dumb, he saw it burn in the manâs eyes. Lust. He only wanted a quick fuck, he wasnât a newcomer. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent your time staring at Matt rather than scanning the crowd. Â
He tried to ignore it, he really did. But as much as he shared the feeling, he hears your laugh through the group of people. He heard everything. The flaunting, the flirting, and the way you let yourself giggle at any small thing he did.Â
After about ten minutes of his eyes tracing where his hands met her body, heâd had enough. He couldnât believe it took him until you were in the arms of someone else to make him see just how much be didnât want you to be with anyone else.Â
Before either of you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the man. Â
âHey! Matt?! Whatâs your problemâ He didnât listen, he only waited until you both were secluded.Â
âdonât go and dance around him, heâs just in it for a fuck.âÂ
âMaybe I wanted that.â You crossed your arms, pouting like a small child.Â
âAs if, you arenât that type of person.â As much as you wanted to admit it, it felt wrong. You were leaning into another part of yourself. It hurt both of you.Â
âOh really? As if you care about what I do.â Every sour thing came up your throat before you could stop it Â
âExcuse me? âHis tone changed significantly as he etched closer, his hands now crossed over his chest.Â
âYou havenât batted an eye at me in months.âÂ
âI have.â The more he spoke, the more be admitted things he wasnât proud of.Â
âHm. When then, name one time.â You wanted to believe him, but if you did. Could you bring yourself to trust him.Â
âLiterally every night since I realised, I love you.âÂ
Shit. Now he HAD fucked up.Â
@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03
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Endereies NNN#©endereies#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo smut#chris x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturiolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo hurt/comfort#sturniolo resolved angst#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets imagines#sturniolo x reader#endereies
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Aw... sorry! Don't worry as the self-proclaimed queen of fluff, my focus is more on "how do I fix my blorbos?"
So! Imagine...
Nastya is floating into space aimlessly, alternating between hazy consciouness and death. She is just cold all the time now, space is pretty lifeless and lonely in comparaison of her family. Especially without her coat. She hasn't had a clear thought in years... or is it centuries?
Until she crashes on the windshield of a ship. Like a cute little space starfish. But not on any ship. On Silvana! Where Carmilla is currently the captain.
Turns out, Carmilla has found the little piece of metal with the numbers the cyberians had engraved on Aurora. She would never forget them. Ever. And of course, she was worried for her little moonshine!
So, when Carmilla had detected Nastya (don't ask how), she came to pick her up. What happened? Had she been airlocked? That was unusual, usually it was Toy Soldier who was the target...
It's hard to have answers from a popsicle Nastya, so Carmilla puts her daughter on bed rest until she is better. With lots of fluffy blankets and her favourite space hot chocolates.
But of course, Nastya is not going to be better. The moment her thoughts are clear enough, she shuts down. Because her life is over. Her Aurora is dead, she abandonned her family and band, her planet doesn't exist anymore, her relationship with her mom is rocky... what could she looks forward to?
After lot of soft persuasion, treats, and soothing songs, Carmilla is able to convince Nastya to at least explain what is going on in her head.
Nastya doesn't say "I'm scared of changes and organic beings in general because the first time I came in contact with them it traumatized me, so I snapped when the last bit of her homeplanet disappeared" because she is not aware that this is the problem. Instead she says to Carmilla the same thing she said to Jonny before shutting down again.
Carmilla is distressed to hear that, a love so pure and wonderful which lasted for milleniums couldn't shatter like this! Especially not between Aurora and Nastya. So, she goes to speak to Aurora. Nastya refusing to leave the Silvana.
Carmilla talks woth her oldest, in a way she never did before. It's raw, it's hard, but it's geniune. Carmilla talks about how Nastya still considers herself as cyberian, how herself had been negligent of the mechs' mental healths, how her relationship with Loreli went... Aurora also talks, which became small miracles lately. She talks about how she feels like Nastya loved her only because she had been abused and not because of who she was. She talks how hurt to realize that Nastya only saw her as a machine. She talks how she will never act as an organic being because it is wrong of her.
And oh boy! Carmilla and Aurora have a lot to talk about.
Meanwhile, Nastya is still in bed aboard Silvana. Refusing to move a finger. Which doesn't please Silvana.
Silvana is not everyone. They (let's use they as their pronouns) are a sentient ship just like Aurora, or maybe not in details but close enough! And they are offended about how Nastya talked about Aurora. They have a conscious! They are not an object that you can change entierly by switching pannels and bolts! How dare this little princess to imply it's the case! Silvana was expecting more than that when she listen Carmilla's tales about The Mechanisms.
Silvana is less soft and accomadating than Carmilla. They are not a mom. They are a spaceship able to travel between dimensions! So, she forces Nastya to talk.
And when Nastya finally snaps and says what she has buried deep down... She breaks down. She screams, she cries, she destroys things... she is messy. In a way she never really had been. Just like any organic beings. Or at least any immortal organic beings.
Silvana is surprisingly great at helping realised that Aurora is still Aurora even if she changes. Just like Nastya isn't the same than years ago. That running away is just hurting herself. And the love of her life.
I will not pretend that everything is perfect right away. And certainly not that everything goes back to how it was.
But, gradually and with a lot of errors, Nastya and Aurora reconnects. It took a stupidly long time! But they have the eternity to fall in love again. In a new way. A more geniune one. It feels like a new relationship, one based on the love they have for the real person their partner is, not what they represent.
It's slow, painful, and ridiculously messy, but they succeed. Nastya went In.
Just in time for a certain Pilchard to put a computer virus in Aurora, making Nastya succomb to it just the way she would have when she had this unique connexion to her love back in the days.
It's no wonder Out happened when you really think about it. Nastya doesn't like organic life because it's complicated, it can break, sometimes it's even unfixable.
quote from gender rebels
Nastya is in love with Aurora, and in saying that she is saying "you are not organic life, I can deal with you because you are metal and algorithm and predictable" - we can see this in bedtime story when she says she'll tweak Aurora's story creation algorithm
screenshot from A Bedtime Story
Aurora is not inorganic. She is not ai. She is a space moon made of flesh and blood and teeth and bone. She is not an ai. She is a body that was taken and stripped of autonomy, of the right to self identify, of the right to think- to be imperfect and organic.
The metal is a veneer that hides how messy and traumatized and unfixable she is. From the outside she is a starship. From the inside she can still bleed.
And this makes them fundamentally incompatible. But yet, they are in love.
And really, it's no wonder Nastya fell in love with Aurora. Let's take a look at Nastya's home planet, or at least home society:
"Terminals were scattered across the planet. There was one on every street corner, one beneath every lamppost and one in every commune block." "The midwife-machine performs a series of programmed manĆuvres to quieten [the baby]. It cradles it and hums at several pitches until it finds one that seems most soothing. Mechanical arms stroke the babyâs flesh even as others start the process of implanting augmented reality interfaces into its nervous system." "The Czar an atrophied frame, never present in the real world and worn to dust by the chemical compounds that kept his brain alive so it could live forever in a perfect virtual paradise. The Rabotnik a copy, a mind preserved unchanging in the instant before its death and placed in an everlasting metal frame." (Cyberian Demons)
Its safe to say the world Nastya was born into, from the very minute she was born, was ridden with technology. She has augmented reality interfaces inplanted into her from birth. It would stand to reason that being taken from this society, wherein technology is everywhere, inside and out, would stand for a bit of a shock.
Aurora too had been augmented by the Cyberia.
While it is stated that the last time Nastya had used the ports themselves was directly before her death â "The last time she had used the ports, her tutor had ripped them out of her as the rebels stormed the palace" â Aurora is laced with Cyberian technology. I'd imagine she has something of a 'bluetooth wireless connection' with Aurora, rather than the physical data transfer of files between the ports and Nastya, it may as well be similar enough.
Imagine being Nastya, going from Cyberia, wherein there is augmented reality contantly, transplanted onto a ship with metal blood, a jonny, and a vampire. To Aurora, where the only bits of augmented reality run through Aurora.
Of course she'd fall in love with her. Aurora is familiarity. Aurora isn't organic. Aurora isn't human.
And of course when the undeniable part of aurora that is organic, that is a flesh moon plated in metal with her brain hooked to machines, when so much has broken and been replaced, when, presumably, aurora is less of an algorithm, nastya leaves with the brand cyberia left on her.
Because Aurora healing, becoming more of herself and less of a starship, is messy, and organic, and human.
and hard for nastya.
âThink how long sheâs been flying you around. Think how many bullet holes youâve punched through her and how many atmospheres youâve dropped her through. Think how many alterations and improvements weâve made, Tim to her guns and Ashes to her storage and Brian to her engines and the Toy Soldier to who knows what. How much do you think is left of her after all sheâs brought you through?â Nastya held up the ancient, battered piece of hull plating. Just visible under the grime and scars of particles of space junk was a fragment of the Auroraâs original logo and serial number. Jonny honestly couldnât remember the last time he had seen a version that hadnât been painted by the Mechanisms themselves. âSo sheâs free, now.â Nastya gestured around at the spaceship they were standing in. âThis Aurora can take you where you want to go. Iâm going to take my Aurora somewhere else.â
Aurora was ship of theseus'd. Aurora was improved. Aurora was no longer cyberian. (both literally, and metaphorically)
So nastya left.
#the mechanisms#good vibes#the mechs#fanfiction#headcanons#nastya rasputina#the Aurora#doctor carmilla#the Silvana#Out#fix it fic#fix it
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Patreon Commission for anon
Request: Actually if you wouldnât mind doing a spicier piece with werewolf Tobias (or Toby), that would be amazing! Specifically where he finds out vampire reader is self-conscious about her chubby body, and she is really into snuggling until he pops a boner during movie night?
A/N: This is part 2 of this other commission.
Expert in pussy-ology
Werewolf (Toby) x vampire chubby fem!reader || groping, dom/sub (very lightly), oral sex || tw: internalized fatphobia
Since that day in the cafeteria, things had been more than great between you two. He always picks you up after your shift, and usually stops in the middle of it to order chocolate (no more coffee for him). He sends you silly messages during the day and makes you smile so much that your coworker called you out on looking creepy because of the too big fangs and red eyes. You laughed it off, too happy to even care.
But not everything is as good as your blooming relationship. You had been craving intimacy, the kind of intimacy you had in the alleyway. You made out a couple times over the past few weeks, but nothing as heated as that day, and he didnât even try to grope you again. And itâs bringing back all the bad memories and self-doubt about yourself.
Youâve been trying to watch the movie, you really are, but the truth is all your focus is in the werewolf cuddling you and his warm body against every inch of your body. Heâs snuggling against you so tightly you can feel every breath he takes, almost every beat of his heartbeat. You always run cold, but his warmth is so welcomed canât avoid a sigh every time you melt into his side.
The movie is playing and heâs nuzzling into your neck, giving you soft kisses every once in a while as he watches the movie. Your brain is far beyond though, you canât stop noticing his body, his tiny movements, the way he snuggles into you tighter and tighter, his arm around your middle, his hand over your soft belly. You canât stop yourself from wanting to suck in your breath so thereâs less tummy to hold, but you know he wouldnât like that.
But itâs not only that, itâs also the fact that you want it to go further, so much further. You want to suck his cock, or him to eat you out. Or maybe fuck, or ride him... but you donât know how to start that conversation and you donât even know if he would be okay with that. You know he said he didnât mind you being chubby, but the tiny voice in your head is always talking, always saying all the wrong things that make you self-conscious and worried about your body.
You struggle in your position in front of him, trying to get some room so he doesnât have to feel your body if he doesnât want to, but he grunts and pulls you back against his front. You both take a deep breath in when you feel what heâs packing.
âI- Iâm sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I know you arenât ready for this. S- sorry,â Toby stutters as he pulls his hips away from your body, making you whine. He stops in his tracks. âDo you- Do you want this?â He presses his hard on against your ass once again and you whimper, making him growl under his breath. âFuck, if you donât want this please say so, you sound so good my brain is going to short-circuit anytime.â He doesnât pull back anymore, but you are biting your lip with your pointy fang, not sure how to say whatâs in your mind.
You turn around in his arms, your neck almost aching looking up at that weird angle, but you donât care. You need to look at him to have this conversation. âI didnât know if you wanted this,â you confess in a low tone.
âWhat? Iâve been jerking off frantically every time I go home after meeting you,â he blurts out and instantly covers his mouth as if he wasnât trying to say that.
You giggle. âHave you?â
âYe- yes,â he stutters, a pretty blush covering his cheeks. He looks delightful like that, all his blood running to his face and making you all kinds of hungry.
âBut my bodyâŠâ You start.
âWhat about it?â He asks when you stop. Thereâs tears building in your eyes threatening to fall and you donât know how to say what you want to say.
But you just go for it. âI know Iâm not thin, and my tummy is all soft, and my thighs are too big andâŠâ You swallow around the knot in your throat. âMy past boyfri-â You donât get to finish that thought before he covers your mouth and growls so loud your body vibrates.
âDo not talk about other partners when you are with me,â he cuts with a growl. You look at him with uncertainty and vulnerability. He sighs and leans down, kissing your forehead as he says: âI told you you were my best fantasy came to life, and I meant it, moonlight,â he kisses your nose as you giggle between choked breaths.
âReally?â You ask as a tear runs down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and leans down for a quick peck.
âYes. Now, let me prove it to you,â he says. You have super speed, but you barely see him before heâs manhandled you to your back and his body is between your thick thighs, he looks so good there that you canât avoid the deep groan that leaves your throat. âFuck, you sound so good, itâs driving me insane.â Tobyâs eyes flash when he says it, and you know that if you had a heartbeat it would be going crazy. âNow, are you going to let me eat your pussy?â He asks, his tone is soft and almost pleading.
Thereâs only one possible answer to that: âYes, please.â He doesnât even respond, he tears through your clothes until he can access your pussy and launched for it like a starving man.
You groan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back as you chant his name. âToby, Toby...â
âEyes open, moonlight, I want you to see me enjoying my feast,â he orders.
His words sound filthy as fuck and when you obey and look down at him, half his face drenched in your desire and a shit eating grin on his lips, a groan escapes right from your chest. He looks obscene, and as soon as he drives right in, his eyes never leaving yours, you scream his name again, and your hands find his hair.
He grunts against your pussy and sucks harder on your clit, making you see stars even with your eyes wide open. His hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, groping your tits over your shirt, touching your tummy, pinching your thighs⊠Heâs driving you slowly insane, and you canât look away from his eyes as you moan like a whore.
He pulls away for a second, staring into your eyes trying to reach to your soul. âUse me, moonlight. Take your pleasure off me as I enjoy you fully.â
You groan again, his words driving you higher in your pleasure as you take his hair with both hands and start rubbing your pussy up and down his face. His nose hits the best place and his tongue is playing with you like an expert in pussy-ology. His fingers find your opening and he fucks into your tender pussy, curling them to hit your G-spot. You cry out and move your hips faster.
You can almost feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, you need it, you need it now. âToby, Toby, please!â You beg even though you know you are the one in control. You pull at his hair harder, making him grunt against your clit as one of his hands gropes your boob, the other one helping you move your hips.
It takes you less than a minute to reach the peak of pleasure, screaming his name as you thrash under him, milking all your pleasure against his face. He grunts and finger-fucks you deeply, taking you to the next dimension. Itâs one of the best orgasms youâve ever had.
When you come back into yourself, heâs still between your legs, your thighs as earmuffs and his face all messy with your juices.
âAre you feeling confident in your body or do I need to fuck you senseless?â He asks, a bit breathless and with the biggest grin on his face. You canât do anything but giggle.
#werewolf#werewolf x vampire#werewolf x you#werewolf x reader#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster x reader#terato#monster boyfriend#monster lover#monster romance#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster love#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft#tw: internalized fatphobia#chubby fem reader#patreon commission
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It reminded me of you.
relationships with blue lock boys as kpop songs . . .
pairing -> itoshi rin, bachira meguru, yoichi isagi x gn!reader (seperate !)
warnings -> some angst on some parts, swearing here and there, might be ooc ? not proofread !!
word count -> rin and yoichi's is 0.7k, bachira's is 0.9k
author's note -> please click the links on the song names !! it'll help you understand why i chose that specific song ^^
. . . itoshi rin !
â« now playing . . run2u by stayc - - - next in queue . . save me save you by wjsn
You knew the risks of dating someone cold and stoic like RIN ITOSHI, hell you were even surprised that he liked you back. You knew damn well that you were going to get hurt in the process, but you didn't care. All you wanted to do was to be with him. It doesn't matter if he's happy (you might not see it on the outside but being his s/o made you know how he is if he's happy), disheartened or upset. Your friends warned, fuck, even your classmates who you didn't even know or liked told you so. They just didn't know him like you did. Yes, you've gotten hurt before but he would ALWAYS apologize. You've learned to become patient for him during his breakdowns, he would say things like "I fuckin' hate my lukewarm brother." and "I need to become fucking better, how else am I.. gonna beat him..". You were confused whenever his breakdowns happened, it wasn't a weekly thing for him to do that, it only happened whenever you noticed him become tense and pressured. You didn't know why he hated his brother, I mean the Itoshi Sae? But you've never asked him about it, knowing he'd get agitated.
You were the first ever person he fell for, the first person he genuinely liked being around. RIN ITOSHI was scared for the first time again, scared that one day you might leave him too. Scared that he might scare you away because god, he knows how he acts whenever he's feeling distressed. He couldn't understand it, why have you stayed this long with him? Why did you treat him so differently? Weren't you just using him for his money and his fame? He knew the answers to all of his questions when one day, he just couldn't take it anymore. He'd accidentally lashed out his anger on you, the one person who he actually cared for. RIN ITOSHI had accidentally hit you, it didn't hurt much, yet it still alarmed you. He realized what he did just in time before he held you in his arms, apologizing over and over again as he cried onto your shirt. "Baby.. it's okay, really.." you said to him while caressing his hair. "N-no.. it's not! I'd accidentally hurt you, the one person I genuinely cared for..! H-how is that okay?!" RIN ITOSHI replied, you carefully asked him if he wanted to talk about why he felt like this to which he hesitantly said yes to. "I wanna know what happened, Rinnie.. don't try to hide it. I'll always be by your side", just by saying those words, RIN ITOSHI poured his heart out on his vent to you, saying that he felt distressed because he heard some of your classmates saying that his brother will always be better than him. He told you the reason why he hated his brother, he recalled the night where his brother said some things that was too painful to say out loud. After he was done, you held him in your arms once more, RIN ITOSHI couldn't take it anymore. He cried once again, asking you why you had stayed with him this long, why were you here listening to his vents, were you just getting dirt to gossip about him? You asked him saying, "Rinnie.. you wanna know why I've been here with you for so long?", he looked up at you with his beautiful teal eyes and simply nodded, "The only reason why I'm here with you is because I love you. Not for your fame, not for your success, and certainly not for your money but for you..", RIN ITOSHI was surprised, you really weren't using him? He had doubted you for a bit but oh, your tone while you said that to him made him believe that what you were saying is true. That's all that he needed to hear before hugging you tightly again, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Thank you so so fucking much, y/n.. you don't know how much I love you..", the black-haired boy in front of you said.
RIN ITOSHI now believes that true love exists, and true love is wherever you are. He didn't care if you saw him at his most vulnerable state, he knew you wouldn't gossip that to your other friends. RIN ITOSHI now knows the answers to all of his questions, he knows that you will stay with him until the end of times.
. . . bachira meguru !
âȘ now playing . . love is lonely by NMIXX
BACHIRA MEGURU was convinced that you were his special someone. You were convinced that he was your special someone too. For all of BACHIRA MEGURU's life, he'd been lonely. Only sharing his love and appreciation to his mother who held deeply in his heart. The second you went up to him, asking if he was okay, he felt skeptical. He wasn't stupid, so he'd ask you if someone ordered you to come to him just to record him at his weakest. You were taken aback yet you knew what the others said about him and his "monster", you really could care less about what they said about him. "Huh? No.. I came here because I saw feeling down after classes ended." you replied, you took your hand out and asked him if he wanted to come with you to go to a place that was special to you. He was reluctant at first but eventually gave in. He'd noticed you in class before, you weren't like the others. You genuinely had a pure heart.
You ran in front of him while holding his hand still. BACHIRA MEGURU swore he felt a big, genuine smile starting to grow on his face. Were you the person the monster inside him was looking for? You introduced him to a small bench, not that far from the school. You told him how you discovered this place as you were randomly walking home and decided that it was gonna be your special place. You had brought fairy lights to hang on the trees that were around the bench. The two of you sat on it and it was as if fate that you guys fit perfectly on it. You went on rambling about how you'd always wanted to be his friend but you were to shy to ask him, and how he'd been the first ever person you had brought along to go here. He didn't even notice how there was light pink tint starting to grow on his face. Ever since then, you and BACHIRA MEGURU had been together as if the two of you were cursed for all eternity to be together, he wouldn't mind if that was the case.
It wasn't long before he had started to fall for you, just the way you would talk to him, take care of him, comfort him, and treat him as if he were an actual person were just a few reasons on why he'd fallen for you. If he could, he would rant on for hours and hours on why he likes you so much. Before he knew it, it had already been 6 months since the two of you had met. You'd asked him to go your guys' special place to which he had ecstatically said yes to. He obviously wanted to at least look good for you, even though you said that whatever he would wear, he'd still look good. The second he arrived at the bench, he saw that you weren't there which was strange.. He thought maybe you were just playing games with him. "Y/n! You can come out now~!" BACHIRA MEGURU shouted playfully, yet you still didn't come out. He noticed an envelope on the bench with a heart sticker on it, he knew that he would want you to open it knowing that only you and him knew about this secret hangout spot and thought you had left it for him to find. He noticed a handwritten "To: BACHIRA MEGURU, my best friend in the whole entire world" on it, and when he opened the envelope, a long piece of paper was in it. He slowly unfolded it and read the contents of the letter. "Dear Megu, I'm sorry I couldn't come to you face to face to tell you what I've been feeling recently. The thing is, the second you held my hand that late afternoon, I fell for you. Call it stupid but god, I immediately fell for you. The fact you didn't hesitate to come with me just made me blush thinking about it. I've always knew I liked you before we were even friends, but I just thought of it as infatuation. You really did prove me wrong because you were the person I've been meaning to find ever since I watched romance movies and discovered what love is. The fact you listen to my endless talks about whatever really made me fall for you even more! In the span of the 6 months of our friendship, you became someone that I loved being around with. I want to end our friendship though.. and maybe start having a new relationship, a romantic one. Soo.. what do you say? Will you accept?", the letter said and god did he fall for you even more. The fact that you loved him the same way he loved you, oh who was he kidding, he's head over heels for you. As he was coming to the end of the letter, a pair of hands slowly hugged him from behind. He knew it was you, he recognized your touch all too well. The second you hugged him, he turned around and picked you up. "Oh y/n! You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day!" You were surprised, you really didn't expect that unpredictable action of his. Your smile became as big as the entire world to say the least, your eyes having some sort of sparkle in it. "So, do you accept..?" you asked gleefully, to which BACHIRA MEGURU replied by kissing you.
BACHIRA MEGURU had finally found the true meaning of love, it was the embodiment of you. The hardships of his life he had left behind due to you. He went inside the school campus with a smile on his face knowing you would be there waiting for him. BACHIRA MEGURU had finally fallen, he had let himself fall for you.
. . . isagi yoichi !
đ now playing . . cool with you by New Jeans
If there was one word to describe how ISAGI YOICHI felt whenever he was with you, it would be comfort. Just being beside you, it would bring him to ease knowing that you were right there with him. You guys could be scrolling on your phones, showing each other different videos that reminded you guys of each other and he would already fall deeper in love with you. You understood him better than anyone else could, you knew what to do and what to say whenever he felt sorrowful. Whether it be losing a really really important soccer match or if he felt insecure and unconfident. Maybe that's why he liked you so fucking much. Your presence just soothes his soul, he didn't know how to explain it, it just did.
ISAGI YOICHI didn't always need for you to tell him how much you loved him, he could always feel it, as if the two of you were somehow telepathically connected. Just simply holding his hand, caressing his hair, and telling him how good he was at playing soccer was all he needed to know. People could see how deep the connection the two of you had, even before you guys were together. Whatever emotion he was feeling, it was almost as if you felt it the same way he did, maybe that's why the two of you had such a strong bond with each other. The two of you could go days and days doing the same thing over and over again but it wouldn't bore him, not when the person who he cherishes most was with him. Sometimes, ISAGI YOICHI finds himself zoning out during classes just thinking about you! He just can't help it, he's totally the type to chat you "I miss you" the second you part ways after walking home from school. He really cherishes every moment he has with you, even if he's not physically next to you, just seeing you makes him relaxed. That's definitely his motivation whenever you watch his games as well, just seeing you cheer your heart out for him, he can't help but drive himself to win, just for you.
Even if he knows how much he means to you, he sometimes can't help but doubt himself, he finds himself wondering if the effort he's putting into the relationship is the same as the effort you put in. "Baby.. do you think that sometimes.. I'm somehow lacking something in our relationship..?" the deep blue-eyed boy in front of you asks, "Huh? Love, of course not! You've given so much into our relationship, what else could I ask for?" you reply, your hand cupping his cheek. "'m sorry baby, I just felt down.." ISAGI YOICHI says, "Oh baby.. don't you ever think that you're dragging our relationship down, okay? I know you love me the same way I love you." you remind him, kissing his forehead. You see him blush and the tip of his ears turn red and you pinch his cheek as you tease him for being so so cute! "H-hey..! Why'd you just randomly pinch me!" the dark blue haired boy says, "Well, you're just so so so cute and I can't believe you're mine~!" you playfully respond. His face becomes even redder now that you said that. You chuckle at the sight of him and you pepper his face with kisses, on his lips, his neck, his jawline, his forehead, you bet that you didn't leave any part of his face untouched. It was moments like these in where he thought that the two of you were the only ones in the world, he has an album of memories in his brain stored with each and every memory the two of you had ever made. God was he crazy about you.
ISAGI YOICHI believed, no, he knew that you were his soulmate and that you knew that he was yours. He would find comfort whenever you were with him, and though he isn't the most verbally talkative lover, you knew how much he adores you. (Please let him daydream about how ethereal you would look at your guys' wedding, he would very much appreciate it, even if you find it funny)
©đŻââđźââđ«ââđ±ââđŽââđșââđ±ââđȘââđčââđčââđȘâ, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.
#jinxed it up ! đ©âĄđȘ#blue lock#bllk#blue lock x reader#blue lock x male reader#blue lock angst#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bllk x male reader#bllk angst#bllk fluff#rin itoshi#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin x male reader#itoshi rin angst#itoshi rin fluff#bachira meguru#meguru bachira#bachira meguru x reader#bachira meguru x male reader#bachira meguru angst#bachira meguru fluff#yoichi isagi#isagi yoichi#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi yoichi x male reader#isagi yoichi angst#isagi yoichi fluff
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It hurt, everything hurt.
The ground underneath him was ice cold and send shivers down his spine, Sirius couldn't feel the tip of his fingers and the tremors were getting stronger. His head was throbbing with pain and his shirt was getting more and more soaked with something warm and sticky. He desperately tried to keep himself conscious, even when his vision was blacking out, if he dropped it was over- the door was charmed nobody could enter only leave, if he passed out nobody could help him. But just thinking of the effort it would take to get up made him heave. There was something he was forgetting, his eyes shot wide-
Reggie, he was there alone to Walburgas mercy, the sentence really didn't make sense and if his head wasn't clouded with fear he would've have laughed. His baby brother was alone he could be hurt or- No he wouldn't let her, he will protect Regulus, he will be there for him. His head was spinning, and his whole body was screaming painfully in exhaustion, his limbs heavy but he got himself to stand up, only to topple over catching himself on the wall before crashing to the ground. Every step was terrible and his urge to give up was getting stronger, but Regulus might be the only person that loved him, would love him no matter what, would still love him even if he snapped because they were brothers and they promised- brothers first.
The door was so close he could reach it with an outstretched arm, but relief hardly cut it because he still had no idea what was happening outside those walls. They were soundproof, and there was nothing more terrifying than silence in this house, silences held a promise of something deeper - unspoken.
Sirius hated silence and made sure to fill every moment with sounds, music, talks, laughter and even at night he made sure that there was something making sound when he woke up, he couldn't stand it.
Regulus was different, he lived in silence, preferred it over all the sounds - he couldn't 'read between the lines' of what people said so what difference was the silence really? it was just as untelling and much more peaceful. But even Regulus who treasured his peace over anything, hated that silent room, hated waiting because there was really nothing more he could do just Wait.
Waiting was torturous, waiting for any sigh that Sirius was alright that his brother was alive, breathing.
The doors handle was hard to turn and his fingers were slippery on the metal, his eyes turning into his head with the effort, when the door budged the wood opened with a groan, and his legs finally gave out on him, he was swept in a wave of nausea and finally he let himself let go all of it. His thin frame was shaking with sobs as he nearly choked on vomit. He wanted so badly to go on, to save Regulus but he couldn't force himself to.
He really was useless, couldn't even take care of the one person he cared the most about. He couldn't see anything anymore and the only reason he hasn't tapped out already was because of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but he knew that will pass. And then... Well wasn't his life just hilarious, failure of a son, hair, brother, friend... quite the list- maybe his death wouldn't be a tragedy at all-
"-rius, Sirius!, Sirius! Hey wake up! Look at me c'mon LOOK AT ME." Regulus's heart was racing his mind a loop of no's. His big brother was bleeding out, shaking and choking on his tears. He paid half mind to vanish the vomit, and the blood as he looked frantically over his wounds. This time it was bad, it hurt to look at it wounds deep angry and red everywhere. Worse than anything was the lack of response he got from Sirius.
Panic took over as he shook Sirius by his shoulders, he screamed and screamed the first thing to came to his mind. He knew, he knew, somewhere deep down that if he kept making this much noise mother would come for him, for them. He didn't know what to do, he felt insane nothing was quiet anymore, but he had to make Sirius respond to him, to let Regulus know his brother is alive.
Than something happened, something that made Regulus stop everything - Sirius opened his eyes, just for a moment but Regulus was sure of the movement, his heart finally calmed, but he couldn't be so foolish to let himself hope he spoke again, as calmly as he could having to clear his voice from all the shouting " Sirius can you hear me" he got a slow blink "good that's good, I know you're tired- b-but I need you to focus on not falling asleep again alright?" He tried for his voice to come out as held together as possible but his voice was shaking and the sentence was interrupted by his sobbing.
He didn't even realized that he was crying, but at the moment nothing really seemed more important than his brother. He tried to fight the fog that was filling his thoughts and find something useful to do. Potter.
Righ-right he just needed to get himself closer to the fireplace, rather quickly, judging by the state Sirius was in. " I'm so sorry Siri" that was the only warning The older one got before Regulus hoisted him up on his back, Sirius couldn't even bring himself to voice his pain, that was just spreading further with the sudden movement. Regulus was crying, his shoulders shaking - that was weird - he couldn't remember ever seeing Reggie cry outside of the privacy of their room. He didn't like the sight of it, his brother didn't smile much but when he did, his honest smile, not the one forced around family, it was the prettiest thing of all. Sirius frowned, Reggie used to smile all the time when they were kids... Why did he stop?
He felt the space shift from the dark to candle light, and the atmosphere was so...different and familiar...
That was the last thing Sirius remembered before the dark came over him. Regulus panted under his weight( which really want that much Sirius seemed to piss of Walburga by merely breathing it seemed this summer, leading to denial of most lunches and breakfast, dinners were sacred and there was no questioning the attendance of such thing.) Breathing deeply before shouting for help and shout he did. His ears were buzzing with the loud sounds but there was no way he was stopping now.
He felt two hands wrap around his torso, gently pushing him off of Sirius, but he didn't want to let go he caught his hand. He recognised Voices talking all around him but he kept his eyes firmly on his brother. He was crying again and when he lifted his gaze he was met with his reflection staring back at him "help him... Please" his voice broke and he felt somebody hoist him up- Potter and them sitting outside of the guest room that Effie turned into a nursery, and Potter holding his shaking hands making little controlled circles despite his panicked eyes that were glued to the door.
Regulus hated waiting. And he was so tried but he could never just fall asleep when Sirius may- no he must think positively. He didn't really want to think at all every second passing mocking him and his inability to have everything under control. But despite all his fighting against the dark he couldn't keep his eyes opened, he won't sleep of course there was no way he'd allow himself that but he couldn't control his heavy eyelids anymore.
He pressed himself into Potters side trying to make himself as small as possible.
Part1
The old house
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angst with toji x readerâŠâŠ featuring baby megumi.
Toji was a stubborn man. Which was why it was always SO difficult when you got into an argument with him. He would always cut you off mid-statement to make a point that barely matched, or call you dramatic once you started crying about the fact he yelled at you. He was mad. You barely remembered what exactly the two of you were fighting about, but you didnât care. You just knew he was absolutely pissed, you were upset, Megumi was distracted by TV across the house..
âYou know what?! Im done. Iâm fucking done toji. Your not even listening to me right now so iâm not even gonna try. Donât call me, donât text me, you can throw away the clothes I have here, and tell Megumi iâm not coming home.â
You didnât even let him comment on it before you grabbed a small purse you had brung over and left, by the time he realized what you were doing and chased after you, you were already driving down the road.
He angrily slammed his head back against the wall, sliding all the way down. The anger was fading off into sadness now. He really did not want you to leave. Just the thought of you not coming home to him, was making him feel like crap. He didnât want to be alone. He didnât want to go back to his cold, empty, lonely apartment. He didnât want to not see you anymore. He felt hopeless.
âdamn itâŠâ
He quietly whispered to himself, trying to get a hold of his emotions.
Megumi waddled into his room, staring up at his dad with those big green eyes. He would have to break the news that his âmommyâ (which he would call you) wasnât coming home..
He felt like kicking himself because he couldnât control his damn temper and he had to be so damn harsh to you. He shouldâve just stopped arguing with you and not called you sensitive, dramatic, and everything under the sun... He shouldâve just listened to you instead of talking down to you. He felt guilty and itâs was eating him up inside. He was trying to hold himself together so he wouldnât break down in front of his son.
Megumi waddled closer to his dad, reaching up to tug on his shirt. He couldnât help but let out a shaky breath as he looked down at Megumi, his heart clenching when he saw the little boy look up at him innocently. He knew he was going to have to tell him that you werenât going to be around anymore. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at his son.
âHey kid.â
He didnât know how to say it without making the boy upset. He wanted to be gentle with him. Megumi could tell something was wrong just by the way his dad looked. Heâd never seen his dad look so upset before. He was confused and he tugged on his dadâs shirt again, looking up at him with big eyes.
â..Whereâs mama?â
That question was like knife through his heart. He took a shaky breath as he picked up his son into his lap. He hated that he had to do this. He hated having to tell his son that his mom wasnât coming around anymore.
*â..Mama isnât coming back, buddy..â*
He spoke, trying to steady his voice. He didnât want to cry in front of his son. Megumiâs little face scrunched up in confusion. He really didnât understand. He didnât know why his dads girlfriend wasnât coming back. He was sad and confused and he didnât like it.
âWhy?!â
He whined, now starting to look upset. He felt even more like crap now that his son was starting to get upset. He was already on the verge of crying himself as his own eyes got watery, his chest tightening in guilt. He had to be strong for his son.
â..Sheâs not coming back because daddy was mean to her.â
He admitted, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He couldnât hold it back anymore. Seeing his son like this hurt him. He really did not want to have this conversation with his son.
Megumiâs eyes started to fill with tears and he started to cry. He didnât understand. He didnât like that his dad was mean to his mom. He didnât like that she wasnât coming back. It was upsetting.
âMake her come back, daddy! I want mama!â
He wailed through his sobs. He felt his heart break hearing his son cry like this. It was like a dagger to the chest. He held Megumi closer, starting to cry himself. His hand gently rubbing his back to soothe him, he tried to force his voice to speak, but he was so choked up, it just came out in broken sobs.
âI canât..itâs just gonna be me and you now.â
ââ-
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âšF/F NSFW snz fantasy incomingâš
Absolutely nothing original from me but I was thinking about a mean female boss calling me into her office to get her off, as she often has me do, but she either has really bad hayfever or a terrible cold and cannot stop sneezing. They're extremely loud, aggressive sounding sneezes that sound almost masculine; as angry and obtrusive as she is in her day to day life. Of course, because she's an inconsiderate asshole, she makes no attempt to cover and sprays all over me as I spend my entire lunch break making her come in various different ways. She doesn't particularly like me but she likes the way I'm absolutely crazy for her body; the desperation of the way I start grabbing at her always does a lot for her already hugely inflated ego.
I'm an absolute mess when she's done with me, hands and face having been buried in her cunt, and ofc evidence of her sneezes staining my shirt, front and back. She stops me from eating her out again by simply pushing me back with a foot on my chest. She then makes me lick her clean before plainly pulling up her underwear and leaning back in her chair. She doesn't bother to say thank you or even acknowledge me now that she's done cumming, just lights a cigarette (absolutely against building policy) and waves me away to clean up in her little en suite, where I immediately start masturbating. I end up cumming to the sound of one of her intensely violent sneezing fits. I want to keep going but she impatiently shouts at me to hurry up and that she doesn't pay me to get off on company time
(More general + snz fantasy stuff under readmore!)
If I want to really makes this insanely horny, everybody in the office knows about this arrangement and she makes no efforts to disguise it. Every now and then, someone who wasn't aware I was in there servicing her at the time will knock on the door, enter her office and find her right on the brink of orgasm as I'm on my knees in front of her. Nobody is even phased by this sight anymore - they know how insatiable and shameless she is. Almost all of her employees have heard her cum, and a handful have seen her do so with her thighs squeezing around my head.
I really love the idea of somebody walking in when I'm just getting started with her, and they start talking business, ignoring my presence and the obscene licking and sucking sounds I'm making. Every now and then the conversation goes on long enough that I make her cum during, and the other employee has to patiently wait for her to finish.
Combining this scenario with sneezing, during this conversation where I continue to eat her out, she's sneezing all over me and this other employee, as well as the papers they're showing her. They are, again, so used to her rudeness they barely even flinch as her sneezes spray all over them. They bless her even though she never says thank you because she expects it either way. After a particularly violent, messy couple of sneezes, she reaches out for their tie and proceeds to scrub her itchy, damp nostrils with it, leaving it totally ruined. The employee lets it happen. Maybe everyone in this office is a total freak who loves being disrespected by her. Maybe the job just pays enough that nobody cares to complain.
#i typed this out sometime last week upon waking and then had to spend time getting myself off before going about my day lol đźâđš#a girl can dream about this kind of arrangement lmao#sneeze kink#snzblr#snzario#snzfucker#snz kink
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đđšđźđ§đ đđČ đđąđđ§đąđ đĄđ đđ. đ
áĄá ”á áĄà»àĄà ąà âžà»à Ąà Łá ߯á à Łà áĄà Łà á á à ąà đĄ ËââșËł .
This story takes place after Jason's death (warning: not 100% Comic accurate)
Pairings: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x (fem!Reader), Slight Jason Todd/Red hood x (fem!Reader)
Genre: Action, Angst, Revenge, Violence, DC
Warnings: Comic Spoilers!, Explicit content, Child abuse, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons
Word count: 2589
The air feels thick with blood, the cold smell of death filling the room. Jason stands over Ra's al Ghul's lifeless body, his chest heaving with exhaustion. His broken hand hangs limply at his side, the weight of the fight heavy on him, but something haunts him- a strange emptiness, a hollowness where there should be victory.
He killed him. He killed the man who controlled Y/n's life for so long. He took away the source of her torment and pain. But now, when it is over, Jason does not feel relief. He does not feel victorious. Instead, there is only the growing self-hatred eating him from the inside.
The door to the training room swings open, and Jason's gaze snaps toward the figure standing in the doorway. It is Talia al Ghul. Her expression is not one of anger, grief, or shock. It is something darker- satisfaction, even amusement.
Talia does not flinch as she takes in the scene. The bloody remains of her father lie across the floor. "You've done what I could never bring myself to do," she says, her voice calm. "I suppose I should thank you."
Jason's jaw tightens as anger surges in him. He wants to kill her too. She is just as much a threat as her father. He steps forward, eyes burning with rage.
But Talia holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender, her gaze never leaving his. "I'm not here to fight you," she says, her voice careful.
Jason remains aggressive, fists clenched, but he does not move. The tension in the air crackles, and he waits for her next move.
"I came to discuss your next move," she continues, glancing briefly at her father's body. "What you did was necessary, I suppose. Ra's had grown too obsessed with his plans. He was always blind to what really mattered. You were right to stop him." There is no sadness in her voice- only the same cold, calculating tone Jason expects from her.
Her expression shifts, hardens, as she looks at him. "But you've made an enemy of all who followed him. The League of Assassins will come after you, Jason. And they will come after Y/n."
Jason's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"
Talia's lips curl into a cold smile. "I'm moving her. I can't leave her here, not with you. She needs to go far away. You can't protect her from the consequences of your actions. Ra's may be dead, but others will want revenge. For his death. For her defiance."
Jason's heart skips a beat. "What are you talking about? Where is she going?"
Talia's eyes flicker toward the door. "You'll never see her again," she whispers. "She will be far from you. Safe. No one will hurt her anymore. You can't follow her. Not this time."
Before Jason can respond, Talia turns and walks away, her footsteps echoing in the silent room.
Jason stands there, rage building inside him. He cannot let her take Y/n. Not now. Not after everything they have been through. He has to stop her. He runs through the hallways, breathing hard, heading straight for Y/n's room. He needs to get to her, tell her everything, explain why she cannot leave him.
He reaches the door and slams his hand against the metal. The lock breaks with a twist, and the door swings open. Y/n is sitting on the floor, her back against the cold stone wall. She looks up at him, eyes wide with shock and confusion. When she sees him, her expression falters. She stands quickly, unsure of what to do.
Jason cannot hold it back. "I killed him," he says, his voice rough. "Ra's al Ghul. He's gone. I killed him, Y/n. He's never coming back."
Her breath hitches. Her eyes flicker with disbelief, lips parting as if she wants to speak but cannot find the words. Before she can, she slaps him hard across the face.
The sting of her palm burns against his skin. He does not fight it. He just stands there, stunned, as she steps back, tears flooding her eyes.
"You- you don't get to do that!" Y/n cries, voice thick with emotion. "You don't get to take my revenge! I was going to kill him. I was going to make him suffer. And you-" She chokes on her words, fists shaking. "You took that from me. You took my chance to be free of him forever."
Jason's throat tightens. He watches her, his heart aching. He wants to explain, to tell her why he did it, why it was necessary. But Y/n is not listening. She is too angry, too hurt to hear him. And in that moment, Jason realizes- she is not angry with him. She is angry because she lost something. She lost the chance for her own closure.
"Y/n, Iâ" Jason starts, but she cuts him off, voice shaking with fury.
"Don't tell me what I need," she spits. "You don't get to lecture me on what I should do. You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. Revenge is the only thing I had to keep me going. And now you've taken that from me. I don't know what's left."
Jason's face twists with guilt. He cannot bear seeing her like this. He did it for her. He wanted to free her from the past. But now he sees that he took something important from her- the chance to confront it herself.
"No, Y/n," Jason says, his voice breaking. "You don't need revenge. You don't need to keep holding onto that anger. You can move on. Please, Y/n, listen to me."
Y/n's eyes narrow, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "Don't tell me what I need, Jason," she says, voice fierce. "You don't get to tell me what to do when you're still holding on to your own demons."
Jason's face falls. Her words hit him hard. She is right. He wants revenge on Batman. He has been consumed by it for so long. He thought he could protect Y/n from her past, but he has not even let go of his own.
"I want to make him feel what he made me feel, Y/n," Jason admits, voice quieter now. "I've spent so much of my life thinking about revenge, thinking about taking him down. I don't know how to stop. But here I am, telling you to let it go when I can't even do it myself."
Y/n takes a step back, her eyes dark with realization. Her gaze softens, but it is filled with a sadness that Jason knows he deserves. "You're no better than me," she whispers. "You want revenge on Batman, but then you're standing here telling me I shouldn't want the same. It's hypocritical."
Jason's chest tightens. For a long time, he cannot speak. Her words cut deeper than any blow. He realizes she is right. He is a hypocrite. He has been so focused on vengeance that he could not see how unfair he was being to her. He had taken her chance at revenge away, yet he clung to his own thirst for it.
Y/n shakes her head, eyes heavy with understanding. "We're both trapped in this," she says softly. "We're both holding on to something that's destroying us. And you can't tell me to stop when you can't stop yourself."
Jason does not know how to respond. He stands there, looking at her, knowing she is right. He does not have an answer for her. He cannot fix things for her, not when he has not fixed himself. He reaches out for her, gently cupping her face. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't want to take that from you. I just-" His words trail off. What else can he say?
Y/n's expression softens, but there is still pain in her eyes. "I don't need you to apologize," she whispers. "I just need you to understand."
He nods slowly. Before he can say anything more, he leans in and kisses her. It is slow and gentle, not desperate. It is a kiss filled with everything they both want but cannot fully express; tenderness, desperation, grief, all tangled together.
When they pull apart, Jason's forehead rests against hers, both of them breathing hard. "I don't know what comes next for us," he whispers. "But you need to leave."
Y/n closes her eyes, then opens them again. "But I don't want to", she says quietly.
Jason's heart races as Y/n's words sink in, and for a moment, he is frozen. He can feel the weight of her words, heavy with truth and defiance, cutting through him like a knife. She does not want to go. She does not want to leave him. And despite everything that has happened, despite all the reasons he has been telling her to go, her decision cuts straight to the core of his own turmoil.
"I don't want to go," Y/n says again, her voice shaking but resolute. "This is my choice. My own will. Like you always told me I should have- freedom to make my own decisions, to choose my own path, right? I've been a prisoner my whole life, Jason. But now, for the first time, I get to decide. And I'm choosing you."
Jason feels his breath catch in his throat. The look in her eyes is unwavering. She is standing there, vulnerable but strong, giving him a choice that seems impossible to accept. She is asking him to let her stay, to let her be with him- despite the consequences, despite everything they have been through.
She steps closer, not waiting for him to respond. "I'm not going because someone else tells me to," she continues, her voice barely above a whisper, but fierce. "I'm not leaving because my mother or anyone else says it's safer for me. I'm leaving because I want to be safe. Safe with you. I want to stay with you, Jason."
She pauses, her hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. "You told me once I deserved my freedom. Well, I'm taking it now. And the freedom I choose is to be with you. Don't take that from me. Please don't make that choice for me."
Jason's chest tightens at the words, and he feels like he is suffocating. He wants to let her stay- God, he wants nothing more- but the reality of what is coming, the danger that will inevitably follow them if she stays, claws at his heart.
But her words echo in his mind: freedom. She is choosing her own path, making a choice that is hers alone to make, just like he always told her she deserved.
And yet... He has been telling her to leave, to go, because he cannot bear the thought of her being in danger. The idea of her facing the wrath of the League because of his actions, because of his past... it terrifies him. But as he looks into her eyes, he knows she is right. It is her choice, her freedom, and maybe it is time he let her make it.
"Y/n..." Jason starts, but his words falter. He does not know what to say. He wants to tell her everything- how he feels, how terrified he is, how he has never felt this much for anyone but the words don not come. She is looking at him with such raw vulnerability, and all he wants is to hold her and protect her from the world.
But he cannot.
Instead, he just shakes his head, his own heart breaking. "I don't want you to stay because of me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to be here out of guilt, out of obligation. You deserve better than this, Y/n. You deserve peace, a life where you're not constantly running. I can't promise that to you. I can't promise you safety, and I can't promise you happiness. I can't promise that I can protect you from what's coming next. And if you stay, you'll be in danger, and I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you."
Tears fill Y/n's eyes, but she does not back down. She takes another step closer, her hand gently cupping his face, her thumb tracing his jaw. "I don't care about safety," she says softly, her voice breaking. "I don't care about guarantees. All I care about is being with you. That is my choice. It's what I've always wanted, and now it's finally mine to make. I'm not running from you. I'm not leaving you behind."
Jason's breath hitches, and for a moment, he is caught in the swirling chaos of his emotions. She is looking at him with such intensity, with such love and resolve, that it makes his chest ache. She is choosing him. And despite all the danger, despite all the uncertainty, she is standing there, holding onto him, telling him that her decision is to be with him.
"I don't want to lose you, Y/n," Jason finally admits, his voice raw with emotion. "But if you stay, I'll be the one to put you in danger. I won't be able to protect you from everything. I won't be able to shield you from the consequences of what I've done."
Y/n shakes her head slowly, a small, sad smile on her lips. "I'm already in danger, Jason," she says quietly. "I've been in danger my whole life. What's one more fight? What's one more war if I get to choose who I'm fighting for?"
Jason feels a lump form in his throat as he looks down at her, realizing that despite all his fears, despite all his instinct to protect her from the world and the chaos he has brought into their lives, she has made her choice.
"But you promise me something, Jason," Y/n whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Promise me that no matter what, we'll find a way to make this work. That we'll find a way to be together, no matter what comes next."
Jason pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a sad expression. He does not have answers. He does not have a plan. All he can offer her is the promise that he will never stop trying.
"I promise," he says quietly, his voice steady. "I'll find a way to fix this. I'll find a way to make things right. For both of us."
They stand there in silence for a moment, holding onto each other tightly, before the sound of footsteps approaching pulls them apart.
Talia's voice cuts through the room. "The jet is waiting," she says sharply, glancing at Jason with a look that borders on impatience. She does not seem to care much about the emotional scene unfolding before her, her eyes already on the door as if she has no patience for this moment of weakness.
Y/n glances up at Jason one last time, her eyes filled with both sadness and determination. "I'll be back," she whispers, her voice low, just for him.
Jason nods slowly, his throat tightening once more. "I'll be waiting, Y/n. I'll find you. No matter where you go, I'll find you."
She smiles softly, a tear escaping down her cheek as she gives him a small, almost sad wave before turning and walking toward the door.
Talia gives Jason one last look, the same calculating expression in her eyes. "We'll be gone before you know it," she says coldly, and with that, she steps aside, allowing Y/n to leave.
Jason watches them walk away, the door closing softly behind them. He stands there, heart pounding in his chest, not knowing what comes next but knowing one thing for certain- he will not stop until he finds her.
#fanfic#fiction#dcu#dc universe#dc comics#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing x you#nightwing x y/n#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female!reader#batman#bruce wayne#gotham#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfam#x reader#reader insert#fem reader
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Tea
Sirius Black x gn!reader
Microfic - 642 words
cw: fluff
The flat that you share with Remus is empty when you get home from work. Thereâs a note on the kitchen counter that says heâs over at James and Siriusâ. You smile to yourself because even after living together for seven years, they were still always with each other. But that was a large part of why you rented flats in the same building. Those boys were bonded for life and you were brought along for the ride.Â
You head to your room to shower. You take your time undressing and waiting for the water to warm up. Anything less than scalding was too cold. About halfway through your routine, just over the sound of water, you hear the front door open and close. Remus must be back. You finish your shower, put on your robe and head into the kitchen to make your usual post-work tea, but you stop dead in your tracks at the end of the hallway.
âSirius?â you gasp, wrapping your robe tighter around your body. For once, you wished you had gotten dressed before going to start your tea.Â
Instead of seeing Remus slightly slouched on the couch with his legs extended under the coffee table as you had expected, you see Sirius laying across the cushions with a pillow under his arm as he watches TV with the volume low.Â
He looks up at you briefly, giving a wide smile before turning back to the TV. You stare at him momentarily in surprise, unsure why he is in your flat, especially when Remus is supposedly at his. It wasnât like Sirius never came over to your flat. It was just unusual for him to do so when Remus wasnât there. As you stare at him, a curl falls into his face and he leaves it there, semi-blocking his vision. If you had been closer, you wouldâve tucked it behind his ear. Your face burns red at the thought. Tea. Iâm making myself tea. You regain the ability to move and go to put the kettle on in the kitchen as you originally intended to. While the water heats, you retreat to your room to change into your pajamas which consist of shorts and an old t-shirt that you think once belonged to Sirius, maybe James. You ended up with a lot of the boysâ old clothes from spontaneous sleepovers at their homes during the summer.Â
Once decent, you return to prepare your tea. You grab two mugs and bags of earl grey tea. Of course, you had added extra water to the kettle so you could make Sirius a cup too. He always wanted tea if someone else was having a cup too. With both mugs, you go to join Sirius on the couch. You hold out a mug for him, which he takes as he moves to sit up, making room for you.Â
As you sit, you say, âI think Remus is at yours.â
âI know. He is,â Sirius replies and takes a sip of the tea. âHeâs discussing Lilyâs surprise party with James and apparently I was being too loud.â
You smile and drape a blanket over your legs. âSo you decided to be quiet over here? I didnât know you were here until I saw you.â
He shrugged. âHavenât seen you in a while.â
âYou literally saw me yesterday.â
âYeah, but did we talk? No. I feel like I never get to spend time with you anymore since you got that job.â He paused. âHow did you know I wanted tea?â
âBecause if thereâs anything certain in this life, itâs that Sirius Black will always drink a mug of earl grey if itâs handed to him. And if I didnât have said job, I wouldnât be able to live in this building. Not all of us have trust funds to fall back on.â
#sirius black#marauders#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#microfic#marauders fic#gn!reader#sirius black fluff
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8/20
To watch the dawn and hope for dusk
The battle was over. The enemyâs banners lay scorched and tattered across the field, trampled into the mud and blood. And all around you, men tended to wounds and dragged the fallen from the ground, the stench of smoke and death thick in the air. You search the field, eyes sweeping past broken swords and twisted armor until you spot him, standing alone on the ridge overlooking the aftermath.
Heâs a silhouette against the burnt orange sky, his posture rigid, unmoving. You hesitate, fear twisting cold in your chest, but you force yourself forward. Youâd fought through waves of enemies just to find him, to hear him say it was all worth it, that he was glad you were here by his side.
But as you approach, his gaze hardens, and he doesnât turn to you. He barely acknowledges you. Your breath catches, and you know instantly that something is wrong.
You step closer, close enough to see the exhaustion and something else in his eyesâsomething that makes your stomach twist with dread. âItâs over,â you say quietly, hoping to break through whatever wall heâs building between you. âWe won. We did it.â
He doesnât respond, just stares out over the battlefield, his jaw clenched. The silence stretches, heavy and unbreakable. Your pulse quickens, a tightness growing in your throat as the feeling that something is terribly wrong settles over you like a shroud.
âHey,â you try again, reaching out to touch his arm, to pull him back to you. âAre you all right? We made it through. Weâre both here.â
This time, he pulls away, a quick, sharp movement that feels like a slap. The rejection stings, sending a chill down your spine. You feel the words rising in your throat, desperate and raw, but before you can speak, he finally turns to you, his face expressionless, cold.
âI never asked you to follow me,â he says, his voice low and edged with something you canât quite place. âI didnât want you here.â
The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. You take a step back, confusion twisting with the hurt. âWhat are you talking about?â you ask, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, even as the sharpness in his eyes makes it almost unbearable. âYou⊠you said you needed me. You told me weâd fight together.â
He laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that cuts through you, and it feels like watching a stranger wear his face. âI lied,â he says, crossing his arms over his chest. âI donât need you. I never did.â
The words sink in, heavy and brutal, and your chest tightens with each syllable, your heart pounding so loud it drowns out the noise of the soldiers around you. Your mind races, trying to make sense of the coldness in his voice, the harshness in his words. This is the same man who held you under starlit skies, whose words were once soft and warm against your skin, who swore he would always stand by you.
âWhy are you doing this?â you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel your hands trembling, but you clench them into fists, forcing yourself to stay grounded. âAfter everything⊠all weâve fought for together⊠why now?â
He looks at you, his gaze unflinching, and thereâs something dark in his eyesâa finality that makes your blood run cold. âBecause it was a mistake to bring you here,â he says, his tone as sharp as steel. âYouâre nothing but a liability. I canât afford to be watching over you while we fight. I donât need someone whoâs going to hold me back.â
Your breath catches, and it feels like your heart is splintering, each piece tearing away as he speaks. âHold you back?â you echo, disbelief thick in your voice. âYou know thatâs not true. Iâve fought beside you, Iâve saved your life more times than I can count, and now⊠now you say Iâm a liability?â
He doesnât waver, his face a mask of indifference that feels like a knife twisting in your chest. âYou canât save me,â he says, his voice softer, but no less brutal. âAnd I donât want you trying anymore.â
You shake your head, refusing to believe the words coming from his mouth. âThis isnât you. I know you. Youâre just trying toââ
âTo what?â he interrupts, his eyes flashing with something you canât place. âMake it easier for you? For both of us? Because thatâs what Iâm doing. Youâre in over your head, and youâre only going to get yourself killed if you keep following me.â
âBut I chose this!â you exclaim, frustration and pain breaking through the surface. âI chose to stand by you, no matter the cost. I thought you understood that.â
For a moment, something flickers in his eyesâregret, maybe, or sorrow. But itâs gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy indifference. âThen maybe I was wrong to let you believe that,â he says, each word hitting you like a stone. âMaybe I shouldnât have let you follow me in the first place.â
The ache in your chest is almost unbearable now, a raw, searing pain that spreads through every part of you, leaving you hollow. You search his face, looking for some sign, some hint that he doesnât mean any of this, that heâs lying, but all you find is the cold, unyielding mask heâs put on.
Finally, you speak, your voice barely a whisper. âSo thatâs it, then? After everything⊠youâre just going to push me away?â
He looks at you, and for a fleeting moment, you think you see something crack in his expressionâa flash of the man you once knew, the one who held you close, who whispered promises in the dead of night. But just as quickly, he looks away, his jaw tightening.
âIâm doing this for you,â he says, and his voice is so quiet, so hollow, that you can barely hear him over the roar of your own heartbeat. âItâs better this way.â
âBetter?â The word leaves your lips like a curse, anger and heartbreak twining together into something sharp and dangerous. âHow is this better? You think leaving me like this, telling me Iâm nothing to you, is going to make it easier?â
He doesnât answer, just stares out over the battlefield, his silence more painful than any words could be. And in that silence, you feel the weight of his decision settle over you, crushing and final.
âI thought you were on my side,â you say, your voice breaking, the last shred of hope slipping through your fingers. âI thought⊠I thought we were fighting for the same thing.â
He closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if under the weight of something invisible, something that has been slowly breaking him apart. When he finally opens his eyes, they are distant, empty, as if heâs already left, as if heâs already a thousand miles away.
âI never promised that,â he says softly, and the words hang in the air, cold and merciless, sealing the distance between you. âI never promised you anything.â
Your heart shatters at his words, the final blow that leaves you hollow, numb. You stand there, staring at him, feeling the pieces of yourself falling away, lost and irretrievable. The man you thought you knew, the man you loved, is gone, replaced by this stranger who stands before you, unyielding and unmoved.
You donât know how long you stand there, staring at him, waiting for some sign that heâll take it back, that heâll tell you it was all a lie, that he did this to protect you. But he says nothing, and the silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, until itâs all you can hear, all you can feel.
Finally, you turn away, your steps slow and heavy as you walk back across the field, the scent of smoke and blood filling your senses, mingling with the hollow ache in your chest. Each step feels like a wound, a reminder of what youâve lost, of the love that has been ripped from you, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.
The world around you is a blur, a haze of fire and ash and death, but none of it matters. Not anymore. The only thing you can feel is the aching void where he once was, a cold, gnawing emptiness that settles deep within your soul, refusing to let go.
You donât look back. You donât dare, because you know if you do, you might break, might fall apart completely, and thereâs no one left to pick up the pieces. Not anymore.
And as you walk away, you realize that this is the true cost of loveâthe pain of giving yourself to someone, only to have them turn away, to leave you standing alone in the ashes of what could have been. And no matter how much time passes, no matter how many battles you fight, the memory of him, the man you thought would stand by you, will haunt you, a ghost that lingers, forever just out of reach.
â đđȘđŹđŠđŽ, đŽđ©đąđłđŠđŽ, đąđŻđ„ đłđŠđŁđđ°đšđŽ đąđłđŠ đąđ±đ±đłđŠđ€đȘđąđ”đŠđ„! đđđŠđąđŽđŠ đ„đ°đŻ'đ” đłđŠđ„đȘđŽđ”đłđȘđŁđ¶đ”đŠ đźđș đžđ°đłđŹ đžđȘđ”đ©đ°đ¶đ” đźđș đ±đŠđłđźđȘđŽđŽđȘđ°đŻ
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