#which is toxic in more than small amounts

[hoppityhopster23]

when I originally came across that, I thought that was quite an odd, and definitely incorrect. It’s one of the few things that I could never understand where he got it from.  I remember writing additions and notes about it in the notebook I kept my comments and notes in regarding his memoirs (^1), but unfortunately I had to leave it behind in the big move. :( Although, after rereading the section you mentioned and doing a little research, this was a situation kind of right treatment (^2), wrong reasons. Below are my reasonings, which are mostly scientific and from some major medical groups. my sources are are the very last part of this post if people are curious:  ------ (the list is all that Larrey writes for the treatment he used for sea sickness)

laying in a hammock: it is recommended to reduce motion in the modern day. hammocks are great for reducing a decent amount of motion depending the type of hammock and how its set up. if the set up on that ship was anything like the HMS Victory’s, the motion that caused the biggest problem is minimized.

not staying below decks and fresh air: all the works I read on reducing both motion sickness and sea sickness (^3) say to stay on deck and/or get fresh air.

exercise: exercise, like taking a walk is also recommended on NHS’s website.

Diet: Larrey recommended Light, non rich foods, and no alcohol or tobacco. the NHS, recommends to not drink alcohol and non heavy foods, but makes no mention of smoking. The CDC says something similar to Larrey, but add to keep hydrated. 

over the top bit that I couldn’t find a benefit to: Bandage of the head or bath with vinegar, although neither could harm the patient.  -----

(^1)  I should mention just how difficult it is to read (at least for me) because of just how many old medical words and how its the start of a “phone tree” of assorted medical documents. he wrote assuming that the reader would have read the other articles/journals. (I have been tempted to write a series of posts (or maybe even a small book?) to try  to help understand everything. at least if anyone is interested, but I digress.) 

(^2) technically over the top, but this is a young Larrey we’re talking about.

(^3)  which are the same, one is just on land and the other sea    Sources: NHS on motion sickness

On Seasickness

CDC on motion Sickness

Larrey on seasickness

So I decided to at least briefly browse Larrey's memoirs before reading a book on him - I had forgotten how entertaining 19th century medical ideas could be.

Sea sickness, according to Larrey, is caused by heavy storms (which we know today is not necessarily so) and results in part simply from the patient’s imagination when seeing these huge waves and undergoing brisk sideways and up-and-down movements; he fears to see the ship be destroyed. But there also is a physical cause:

These unnatural movements cause jolts whose effects are concentrated in the brain, the part of the body most susceptible to shocks because of its mass, softness and lack of elasticity. The molecules of this organ, after experiencing a kind of shaking, collapse in on themselves, and hence all the symptoms that characterise seasickness. The larger and softer the mass of the brain, the more susceptible it is to these causes; this is why young people and those with very large brains are most prone to seasickness. People of advanced age, whose brains are smaller and more consistent than those of young people, are less prone to this disease. Inhabitants of maritime coasts and cold climates, in whom the cerebral mass is generally less developed than in those who live in warm countries and inland, are much better accustomed to the vicissitudes of navigation; in other words, they are less prone to seasickness.

If small brains help against motion sickness, I know a few people who should be totally immune....

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed*. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

Response to the Update

Under the cut for readability, because everything said above still applies.

I already said this in a reblog on the post itself, but I'm adding it to this one for easy access: people read it that way because that's what you said.

Staff considers the main feed as it exists to be "outdated," to the point that you literally used that word to describe it, and the main goals expressed in this announcement is to figure out what makes "high-quality content" and serve that to users moving forward.

People read it that way because that is what you said.

*The final results of the poll, after 24 hours:

136,635 votes breaks down thusly:

An algorithm based feed where I get "the best of tumblr." @ 1.3% (roughly 1,776 votes)

Chronological feed that only features blogs I follow. @ 95.2% (roughly 130,077 votes)

This doesn't affect me personally. @ 3.5% (roughly 4,782 votes)

[rechvlle]

۶ৎ sticky like lipgloss ₊˚♡

ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis ── after a particularly intense fight with your boyfriend, thanos, you seek out the comfort of his best friend, nam-gyu, which, not only is wrong—at least to thanos—but it ends up wrong, too.

♡ featuring ── thanos/choi su-bong (player 230) x female!reader x nam-gyu (player 124) ♡ word count ── 3.4k ♡ content warnings ── college au (they have money and aren't in debt, not as bad, anyway) ◞ established relationship ◞ cheating ◞ soft!namgyu ◞ desperate!needy!reader ◞ slight (more implied) emotional abuse ◞ manipulation ◞ toxic relationship(s) ◞ impulsive decisions ◞ kissing ◞ mentions of make-up sex ◞ vaginal fingering ◞ vaginal penetration ◞ pet names (baby, sugar, etc.) ◞ praying mantis position ◞ downward doggy position ◞ safe sex ◞ slight praise kink ◞ lowkey vanilla ◞ spanking ◞ mentions of anal ◞ coincidental creampie ♡ author note ── me after finishing fanfic after months of deleting and rewriting over ten…? i mean, this is a one-shot so… anyway tho, the title has kinda no correlation to the fic, i just needed a title guys, don't sue me :-( anyway, had fun writing this ^_^ tell me if I missed any tags…

What could—no, what is worse: being held at gunpoint, fearing for your life, or having an argument with your boyfriend? Being held at gunpoint; the choice is obvious and it isn’t arguable, it’s quite objective. Whilst fearing for your life is truly terrifying and will, most certainly, cause trauma to one another, your body simply cannot tell the difference between such.

It’s pitiful, truly. In a way, you’re too attached to your drugged-up, junkie-ass boyfriend, so due to the amount of love you have for him, whenever the two of you argue, it’s as if you—and your body—cannot tell the difference in a near-death experience versus arguing or being yelled at by your boyfriend. You are truly pathetic.

It’s sickening at how easily you and Su-bong, or well, Thanos, fight.

Oddly enough, not too soon after he started his rapping career, he wanted you to call him Thanos. You two fought about that—except, he started the fight. He thought that you didn’t love him because you weren’t going to familiarly call him Thanos instead of Su-bong. You obliged in the end, though; you didn’t want him to think the worst of you.

You were addicted to his touch, his love, his affection—anything and everything that he would be willing to give you—so whenever he’s upset, you need to make him happy, to resolve things as quickly as possible. So, sex was common after fights. Su-bong never rejected the offer, he wanted it, too—almost always, anyway.

Except, this time, he wasn’t going to fold so easily.

“Come on, baby! We both know what happened,” Su-bong said, gripping your forearm tightly with his left arm.

His nails dug into your skin, leaving small crescent marks; expression guarded, angry, almost hateful. Su-bong slightly shook you, not hard enough or just enough to make you dizzy, but the right amount to make you annoyed.

“Su-bong, I didn’t—“

The hand that held your arm shot up to your face, interrupting you with his index finger to your lips.

“Ah-ah, not my name,” Su-bong spoke in a sing-song voice, almost mocking.

“Thanos,” you started—his face turned towards more approving, but you could still see (and sense) his anger. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”

Right. He’s upset, no, furious, at you for “cheating on him,” because you “flirted” with someone else (you asked for a pen during class). And of course, like the “professional accuser” that he is—and due to you and him having that class together—he took your words as flirting.

Because 1) why would you need anything else from anyone other than him? Is he not good enough for you? 2) you don’t need to talk to anyone else other than him, let alone ask for something. It’s disrespectful, you’re cheating, a liar.

“Don’t lie, now. You didn’t need to ask him,” Su-bong—no, Thanos—whined. He pulled his hand away from your face, rolling his eyes in the process.

“It was just for a pen. You know I’m not like that!” You almost screamed, you were already breathing pretty hard; you were overwhelmed, overstimulated.

Thanos is high, of course, so there’s no telling how extreme his reactions will be. Once, he slammed you against the wall, even smacked you, but nothing too fatal or hurtful. Maybe.

“Y/N, I’m bein’ pretty fuckin’ lenient with you right now,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, yet again.

“Thanos, I’m sorry, really! It didn't mean anything!” You pleaded with him, your hands coming to grasp his arms, biting your lip.

You gave Thanos your signature look: seductive eyes, bitten bottom lip, the touches—oh, he loved it all. Yet, to him, at this moment, he doesn't feel any sort of sympathy for you, he doesn't feel aroused or turned on by this. He finds it too serious—especially when he’s high out of his mind, much like how he is now.

“Nuh-uh, baby, that isn't going to work on me right now.”

You could, in a way, feel your heart drop. What did he mean it wasn't going to work? Doesn't he see how stressed out you are right now? How needy—in a way—that you are right now?

“Thanos, please, let me make it up to you!” You could feel the tears brimming in your eyes, the pouty, desperate look you had on your face.

“Nah, I know what you’re trying to do. Cheat me out like a whore, huh?” He pulled away from your touch, shoving you in the process.

“Why don’t you go to that bitch you asked to borrow from?” He looked at you, almost crazed, gripping your arms now, hard, his nails, yet again, digging into your skin. It was painful.

Your mouth was agape as he continued to yell at you, hurling a few insults your way: “Fuckin’ whore,” “dumb bitch,” would be a few.

You couldn't take it. You were borderline hyperventilating, stressed, and hurt. Why would Thanos think of you as a cheater? You’ve never done anything that could prove you to be one; never cheated or lied to do something with another. He has, yet you trust him.

As soon as you got out of Thanos’ grip, you bolted out of your guy’s dormitory. You could smell the weed on him, the redness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Normally, you didn't care if he was high or got high, as long as it wasn't hardcore drugs—although, he lied every time you asked, always saying it was weed. You knew better, you’re smarter than that, yet you still trusted him.

Now, though? You’re upset and hurt, and who was the first person that came to your mind? Nam-gyu. Every time you and Thanos fought, he was always there for you to cheer you up, make you feel better, and reassure you when Thanos didn't (or wouldn’t).

The knocks against Nam-gyu’s door were insistent; your knuckles rasped against the wood of it. You stood outside for a few seconds, waiting, your arms slightly crossed, your hands holding onto your elbows.

Nam-gyu opened the door, rubbing his eyes for a moment, his gaze focusing on you.

“Y/N? What’re you doin’ here?” He asked, grabbing one of your arms, and pulling you inside.

“It—he…” You couldn't get your words out, just shaking your head. Nam-gyu understood, though.

“‘Ey, it’s okay, c’mere,” he pulled you in for a hug, nothing tight, though. “Just tell me what happened.”

Of course, you did, through a series of sobs and pauses, but he gave his advice.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. Look, I’m sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings,” he held you against his chest, sitting down on the couch in his living area.

You sniffle, nodding, your hands draped around his neck. He could feel your cold hands against his warm neck. Nam-gyu always smelt of some sort of musk and drugs, dirty. In a way, it was a very comforting smell to you.

He rubbed your lower back before patting your head, running his hands through your hair, rubbing your scalp, too. It was always so comforting to you: his touches, the way he softly kisses your head, rubs your body, makes you feel so good.

“Nam-gyu, can you…?” You stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, a bit unsure of how to word your question.

“Yeah? What is it?”

You stayed silent for a moment before looking up at him. You spoke softly to him, “Make me feel better, please.”

Nam-gyu was a bit stunned; you’re Thanos’ girl, not his, not Nam-gyu’s. Yet ever since Thanos introduced you two, Nam-gyu has always had a thing for you: checking you out, those subtle touches and “platonic,” “reassuring” kisses that he’d give you, the soft and sweet way he’d talk to you.

In a way, he wanted to take you as his own. He knows that Thanos would be upset, angry, really fucking angry. Yet he can’t help himself to these thoughts, these sick, dirty thoughts.

Nam-gyu quickly recovered, though, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, baby, just let me take care of you,” his voice was sickeningly sweet, twisted, a little.

Nam-gyu cradled you, picking you up in one swing, your hands still wrapped around his neck, his hands holding you by your waist and your butt. He kept you close, walking you to his bedroom. (His dorm mates were out, no need to worry.)

He sat you down on the edge of his bed, just your feet sticking out. His sheets were rough, nothing like the silk you sleep on in your room. You didn't mind it, though.

You know it’s wrong; just before leaving, you told Thanos that you’d never cheat, yet here you are. Although, a part of you didn't care. Thanos was being a dick, a complete douche. Maybe all you need is a little break from his toxic cock, maybe you need to try his friend’s.

Nam-gyu pulled your shirt up and over your head, the cute, lace, pink bra you normally wear fully exposed to him. He smirked in response, wrapping one of his arms around your upper back, pushing your body up just enough to unclasp your bra, pulling the straps of your bra down, and pulling it off of you.

You felt fully exposed. You’ve only ever been this close to Thanos and an ex from high school. Nam-gyu would be the third person to ever be this close, this intimate.

He let go of her body, letting her body hit the bed.

“You know, you’re beautiful, Y/N,” he spoke, leaning into your neck, peppering kisses down your neck, collarbone, and then to your chest. His mouth found the areola of your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple. His right-hand kneaded at her breast, sending stimulants.

You softly moaned at the sensation. It wasn't as intense as rubbing your clit would be or penetration, but it was still stimulating to get you wet (and ready).

Nam-gyu continued to suck at your breast while his left-hand unbuttoned your jean shorts, slipping his hand through the rough fabric of the denim and the same, lace fabric—of your matching bra—of your panties.

You sucked in a breath, your corresponding hand coming to grab at the one inside your pants.

“Nam-gyu, wait—”

His mouth retracted from your breast, his hands still their movement. He thought you wanted this.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Your lips twitched. You wanted to tell him to stop, that this would be wrong. You asked for it, though, and truly you wanted it, so you retracted your hand. Nam-gyu didn't let your hesitant expression slip his interest.

“You want me to stop?”

You quickly shook your head. Nam-gyu smirked, muttering an “okay,” before slipping your denim shorts off. His eyes stayed on the lace fabric of your panties, he could see the damp spot, your wetness, your arousal.

His fingers went to massage the area, swirling the fabric around with his fingers.

“Man, look at that…” His tone was almost mocking, it made you whimper, almost reminding you of Thanos’ toxic words. “You’re so wet, sweetheart.”

His words made you clench, around nothing, too. That didn’t go unnoticed by Nam-gyu, he could just feel your desperation through your panties. He pulled his fingers away, slipping them off of you.

Your breath hitched at his actions. You could feel the cold air of Nam-gyu’s dorm against your core. He noticed and took advantage of that: moving his hand in a way that would blow air toward you. He noticed your slightly erotic reaction and slathered himself in the success of pleasing you, even just slightly.

You whined, “Don’t tease, please,” your voice was almost angelic to him, the neediness in it just spoke to him like a siren to a sailor.

Nam-gyu obliged, of course. He didn’t want to put any more stress on you than there already is. He dove right in: his middle and ring finger rubbing at your already-wet clit.

“You wanted this, baby?”

You eagerly nodded at Nam-gyu’s words, softly whimpering at his actions. He reveled in the fact that he could pleasure you, maybe even better so than Thanos. His fingers continued their ministrations on your clit, rubbing you just the right way; you moaned at such, almost wanting to beg for more.

Nam-gyu took your whimpers, moans, and gasps as a sign to go further. His fingers moved away from your clit to the inside of your cunny. It was a fast movement, it made you gasp a bit louder, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, your hands found themselves clawing at his sheets. He kept his fingers at a steady pace, curling them up at just the right spot.

“Oh-oh, Nam-gyu…” You whined out the last vowel in his name, feeling his fingers curl up at your g-spot.

“Yeah? Wha’d’ya want, sugar?” He continued to speak with a mocking yet also prideful tone.

You couldn't respond, as you could barely form a coherent thought. The only thing that you are thinking of right now: is Nam-gyu, and the damn-good way that he’s fingering you.

Except, something clicked in your mind. Sugar. He called you “sugar.” Thanos would often use that nickname on you whenever he was doting on you, loving on you—overall, just being a good boyfriend. Except for the fact that his emotions can change like a flipped switch…

That didn't matter to you, though, you quickly blocked it out of your mind. You didn't want to focus on your piece of shit boyfriend.

Just as quickly as the thought occurred to you and as quickly as you pushed it out, you came; your orgasm crashing down on you. Nam-gyu certainly knows how to work with his hands, and you loved that. (Maybe his work was better than Thanos’.)

He pulled his fingers out of you, looking at the sticky substance that coated them, a thin line that connected between his ring and middle finger. He rubbed his hand back onto your pussy.

“Come on, sugar, time for the real show.”

Nam-gyu shrugged his sweatpants and boxers off in a blink, his thick cock springing out. He was already leaking pre-cum.

“Condom?” He asked you, his eyes darting away from your wetness.

Your eyes met his, nodding. If you were going to cheat, you didn't want to be an absolute bitch and get pregnant by his best friend. Just “casual,” “I need some stress relief,” fucking (because of your boyfriend’s douchebag ways.)

Nam-gyu sat up and off of his bed, he grabbed a condom off of a random shelf in his room. You didn't question it.

“Scoot up a bit.”

You did as he asked, moving your body up until your head felt the (very slight) comfort of his pillows. He smiled at the action, moving over and on top of you. He lined his manhood up to your wet entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, his hands coming to rub on your sides, you nodded.

Nam-gyu almost immediately enveloped himself inside of you. You scream-moaned. He was thick, nothing like Thanos—not to say he wasn’t, but the difference was transparent.

“Fuck, fuck…” You breathed heavily, and your hands went to grab at his shoulders, feeling the pain of being stretched out.

Nam-gyu was a patient man, though (sometimes, not really), he didn't want to rush you.

“Too much?”

You shook your head at his question, almost whining. You didn't want him to stop. The stretch was fucking intense, but good God did it feel good.

Nam-gyu nodded, moving slowly at first, just to test the waters.

“Oh-Ah!” Your nails dug into his shoulders, fuck, it felt good.

Nam-gyu halted his movements, his eyes making contact with yours as you moaned. He gave you a look (as if) to ask: “Keep going?” or “Are you okay?” You nodded when you two made eye contact. You wanted this.

Nam-gyu did so. He started sluggish, sensual as if to memorize the feeling of your insides. You were tight, perfect. God, he loved the way that you felt.

It was almost teasing at how slow his movements were. Of course, he wanted to prolong the moment, but you needed this release.

“Nam-gyu, please, just go a bit faster, because shit, I—”

Almost as on cue, he heard you say “faster,” he did. His hips moved at a swift pace, you could hear the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your skin.

He moved his right hand from your side, using it to grab your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. His cock went deeper inside you.

“Aah—Nam-gyu!” You couldn't help but moan, your head leaning back into the pillow, your hands marking up his back, now.

He grunted at your sounds, not letting up his pace. After such a toxic night with your boyfriend, how could he not give you what you want, what you need?

Your legs twitched at his movements, God, you loved it. His cock hit your cervix a few times, and his movements became a bit more rough. With the new angle, his balls were slapping against your ass.

He kept up, his hand roughly smacking against the thigh that he held up. He knows that you're close, and he wants you to feel that pleasure, yet at the same time, he also wants to prolong this moment as long as possible. He needs this pussy, your pussy.

Just as he felt your walls clench around him, he pulled out—not like he was about to cum.

“Flip over for me, sugar,” He said, patting your thigh before letting it go.

You knew where this was going, and you wanted to entertain that, so you obliged. Your head was in the pillow, ass up.

Nam-gyu held onto your hips as he pushed his dick back inside you.

“Shit, I’m never letting you go after this.”

Nam-gyu knew how upset Thanos would be if he knew that he was fucking his girlfriend right now, but she came onto him. Not his fault (even if he did like her first.) In a way, though, he didn't care about his reaction, all he was focusing on was the pretty pussy that he was fucking right now.

You moaned at the sensations, loud and slutty; like a whore. In which, you were one, but you didn't care about that at the moment.

“So good for me, sugar. Just the way I like it,” Nam-gyu picked up on the fact you liked being praised.

You couldn't help the moan of pleasure and need that came out of your mouth from his words. Good God, how much you like being praised, being told how good you are, it’s pathetic; makes you go completely weak, like a helpless puppy.

You moved your hips against him, in a way so you could feel more of him, get him as deeply inside you as possible.

Nam-gyu smirked at your actions, one of his hands smacking your ass.

“Shh, c’mon. Let me do the work,” He sounded so confident, so sure of himself that he could please you, and you loved it.

The way his thrusts were almost rhythmic yet rough. His cock was thick and just perfect for you, the move of his hips was perfect, too.

“Nam-gyu, fuck…” You couldn't help but moan out his name, it felt so good on your tongue.

He smacked your ass again, speaking to you with a bit more authority, “Yeah, ‘atta girl. Who do you belong to?”

“You! You, Nam-gyu!”

You couldn't help the words that just rolled out of your mouth. Thanos would always ask you that question during sex, while his dick was deep inside your cunny or your ass, you’d always say that you belong to him.

Nam-gyu continued his assault on your pussy, his movements becoming more ragged and uncontrolled. He knew he was close. You were, too; the way your gummy, little walls were clenching around his dick.

With a final thrust of his hips, he came inside the condom inside of you. Your orgasm came washing down over you at the same time he did. You breathed heavily, feeling his cock leave you empty. Yet, at the same time that he pulled out, so did another substance.

©2025 rechvlle do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on any other sites.

[ms-demeanor]

wait, are the health claims from bone broth bogus? (genuine/good faith question). i’ve always heard that it’s high in collagen, which supposedly is good for you and better if you get it ‘naturally’ like from bone broth. is that another thing that’s not actually true, or wildly exaggerated?

Bone broth has been eaten for centuries in various cultures because it is easy to digest and believed to have healing properties. Chicken broth is highly valued by some as a remedy for the flu. In more recent years it has been promoted to help symptoms from psychiatric and neurodevelopmental disorders including autism and attention-deficit hyperactivity. [7] Claims that it detoxifies the liver, improves digestion, reverses wrinkles, builds bones, and relieves join pain have led some marketing analysts to predict that the bone broth market will approach $3 billion by 2024. [8] In reality, bone broth contains only small amounts of minerals naturally found in bone including calcium, magnesium, potassium, iron, phosphorus, sodium, and copper. The amount of protein, obtained from the gelatin, varies from 5-10 grams per cup. There is some concern that bone broth contains toxic metals like lead. One small study found that bone broth made from chicken bones contained three times the lead as chicken broth made with the meat only. [7] However the amount of lead in the bone broth per serving was still less than half the amount permitted by the Environmental Protection Agency in drinking water. A different study found that bone broth, both homemade and commercially produced, contained low levels (<5% RDA) of calcium and magnesium as well as heavy metals like lead and cadmium. [9] The study noted that various factors can affect the amount of protein and minerals extracted in bone broth: the amount of acidity, cooking time, cooking temperature, and type of animal bone used. Therefore it is likely that the nutritional value of bone broths will vary widely.

(Source: https://nutritionsource.hsph.harvard.edu/collagen/)

Your body makes collagen; eating collagen will put the things that make collagen into your body to make collagen with, but so will eating things that go into making collagen (amino acids, basically).

There's not good evidence that eating a ton of collagen or supplementing collagen improves your body's collagen production, and studies on collagen supplementation tend to be done by companies that make collagen supplements or produce expensive bone broth.

Basically if you're eating the 9 essential amino acids by consuming complete proteins (which can be done on any kind of diet, vegan or vegetarian or including meat - this is NOT one of those things your body relies on animal products to produce) your body is going to make collagen and it's going to have the amino acids handy to make collagen; consuming more collagen may mean that your body has more of those collagen-forming amino acids on hand, but it doesn't mean that your body is going to be any more efficient at producing collagen (and your body is going to become less efficient at producing collagen as you age).

But yeah bone broth health claims are primarily bogus. If you want more collagen in your diet for whatever reason, it's probably about as effective to eat jello as it is to eat bone broth but also more collagen in your diet likely isn't doing anything special.

[emacrow]

Lilith, The Mistress of Fear is getting her small scarecrow. By emacrow/prompt creator pt 1

It was her turn to watch over the young king in his latest, most rarest vacation, reincarnation at the finest.

Unfortunately, being alive is the cost she paid gratefully because the last reincarnation vacation his majesty had took was ended shortly due to the idiotic ghost guard who fell to watch him.

This time Fright Knight was smart enough to use the reincarnation trip easy enough, but being reborn in a woman body that was shocking similar to her own original body from back then was nostalgic in a tragic way.

Same two birthmarks under her right dark emerald eye and right side of her mouth. The chaotic scar covered her left arm, and long scar going through her right eyebrow across her pale emerald eye, ending at her cheekbone.

Her body was still strong and muscular in the sense of tallness, but unfortunately she can still feel the softness that she needed to train more as she could still hold the soulshredder that seemed to had grow larger in size for her. (I think because your ghost form was much taller than you think?)

Clothes are a bit smaller as she gotten older and much taller then most ladies and men, then what she used to but getting specially tailored clothes to match her size was a godsend.

She had been alive for twenty-four year now, working as a bounty huntress that these small men whisper of The Mistress of Fear at night, while taking care of the young king in the daytime who was born to shameful parents that dare abandoned him in a wasteful bin.

Thankfully She can trace where his newest body was at the right time, not mere a couple minutes before the disposal men come with their raging machine on wheels.

Five years in Gotham, she kept a downlow considering there is a liminal in a bat suit patrolling around. Unfortunately that didn't last with a particular scarecrow.

Said scarecrow who was in sack mask looking at her with his face redder than a tomato considering she was sitting on him in her living room.

Jonathan Crane, supposed bringer of Fear as the Scarecrow.

Amateur at best.

Lilith considered Crane annoying at the beginning the first three dozen times they has met up with him trying to spray her with 'Fear Toxin and Gas' considering how he believe he was better at her with bringing Fear to other.

That declaration made her laugh hard that first meeting if Crane think he could best her, with how short and scrawny he was compared to her majestic tall and strong form, even her young King wasn't that scrawny when he was a ghostling.

This supposed 'Fear Toxin' was nothing to her, for she was The Mistress of Fear, formerly known as The Fright Knight in the infinite realm.

Then came the odd courting such a present with a doll stuffed filled with exploding Fear toxic, chocolate with toxic vial filled with the hazelnut spreading inside added a nice flavor, the dance between the two during a gold spar giving her a good nick on her shoulder was a nice touch, switching the candle in her crafted pumpkin with a ticking bomb full of Fear gas was a lovely gesture for her halloween party, and the best was a beautiful Sword sheath filled with concreated Fear toxic that melt even the hardest metal, but the soulshredder seem to love the spa treatment in it. Lilith swear the soulshredder was spoiled rotten by that sword sheath.

The little sneaky seeking short man somewhat crawled into her anicent void of a broken heart, and took over. She enjoyed their weekly meeting between them now that was until two weeks ago.

Jonathan can deny and struggle all he wanted after the last discussion and spar two weeks ago when she told him that she accepted his courting, which led to him avoiding her like a ghost, ha.

Jonathan think he could avoid her after taking her heart with him was rather dull of him considering she knew all his secrets hideouts by now with the amount of time he had kidnapped her in the previous years.

He should be honored to gain the hand in marriage of Mistress of Fear after all the beautiful lavishly courting gifts he sented her the past 2 years. Badly lying and saying they were to sabotage her was laughable. He had seduced her mind, and then she seduced him the same way all the way into marriage.

There is no escaping The Mistress of Fear, Jonathan. You dug into this haunted house of a heart, and once you're in, there is no escape.

Second part link here<-

[comicaurora]

If you were a sci-fi writer, how would you solve the Fermi paradox? That being the discrepancy between evidence for alien life, versus the likelihood of their existence? (basically. If alien so likely, why we not see?) The Dead Space series has an amazing cosmic horror solution, but i'm curious what you're brain could come up with!

There's a lot of possibilities, some more interesting than others.

The speed of light and the distance between inhabited stars makes it prohibitively slow to detect, make contact with, or reach any star with alien life. It doesn't matter if we're not alone, our corner of Space Reachable Within A Human Lifetime is so comparatively small that we may as well be. We're all blindly wandering through an infinite desert, calling into the void. Space exploration is a long game, and on that timescale, even whole civilizations blink out very quickly. If we manage to catch a signal and follow it, we might find nothing on the other end but ruins - or an asteroid field where a planet's orbit used to be.

The universe is too young for us to find anyone else out there. We're the first. How will we shape the galaxy to make life better for those who come after us?

The life that formed on Earth is terrifyingly invasive. The atmosphere and ocean is choked with monocellular life, and its surface is coated with a mass of multicellular organisms finding new ways to devour one another. Even extinction events don't keep down the biomass for long. If life on other planets looks anything like us, the problem isn't going to be detecting it. It'll have gotten everywhere. The problem is going to be not immediately getting colonized and eaten alive by it. And if life on other planets DOESN'T look like us, our whole planet is probably a class 1 biohazard and contamination risk. Multicellular earth organisms contain microcosmic ecosystems that proliferate explosively when they die. If anything inside them can find ANYTHING to eat, it's over.

Life evolves frequently, but always in oceans. It is extremely rare for any alien life to leave that ocean and adapt to life on land. Without this step, the jump to space exploration - even space contemplation - becomes infinitely more unlikely.

Monocellular life is seeded on planets from an outside source and allowed to self-cultivate and grow until the biomass reaches a certain volume. Then the farmers return to harvest it.

There is not a single other species on our entire planet that humans can actually reliably communicate with. It takes tremendous amounts of training to make an animal capable of recognizing even a handful of words, and very few of them can use them. Humans can't even communicate with other humans with 100% clarity, even if they're using the same language. When we find alien life, if we even recognize it as anything resembling life as we know it, we have absolutely no way of communicating.

Space colonialism has been disallowed by the space geneva conventions due to massive past tragedies, parasitic exploitation of worlds and senseless loss of life. Human expeditionary efforts are being watched warily through targeting sights.

We've known about radio communication for less than 200 years. We haven't yet figured out the medium through which all advanced civilizations communicate.

Alien life exists in abundance, but the vast majority of it is extremely tiny. We wouldn't spot an anthill on a satellite photo, and none of their ships are large enough to survive passage through our atmosphere.

Earth's oxygen atmosphere is an anomaly, and our first and most enduring extinction event. The explosive proloferation of cyanobacteria and their oxygen photosynthesis irreparably altered the planet's prebiotic atmosphere and wiped out everything that couldn't handle the sudden massive increase in a highly reactive and flammable gas. Earth is considered highly toxic and unstable, though recently detected increases in methane and CO2 might signal that nature is finally beginning to heal.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Love when people belittle resistance to nuclear plants by pretending the only concerns people have are "nuclear fallout" and "toxic waste" rather than,perhaps, the massive clusters of birth defects that pop up in the wake of a TON of industrial industries, including nuclear, all of which are often defaulted to THE SAME SMALL RURAL TOWNS thus ensuring that those towns are subject to a cumulative level of toxicity that can be seen in the physiological prognosis of the entire town for literal generations

Like I'm sorry. Sometimes a logistical concern isn't as simple as "those dumb hicks don't know nuclear plants are safe now". I always remember the hullaballoo folks made about "but what if solar fields kill all our fields and the sheep have nothing to graze", accusing them of believing the solar panels would "absorb too much of the sun" rather than the more complex (and if not exactly reasonable, at least an understandable conversation to need to CONFIRM UNDERSTANDING OF before acting on) "hey a lot of the parts in this are heavy metals, and you're asking us to alter large amounts of terrain in ways that could disturb root systems and if that mixes badly this could kill our crops, can you confirm that won't be an issue?"

And like. I dunno. Maybe interconnectedness means that when someone says they're not sure they agree with you that the pros outweigh the cons, you need to consider the possibility that could actually be true.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered

i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)

~~~

Lovefool

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you

summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…

word count: 4.4

~~~

2011

You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”

“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.

Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.

“What question?” He responds.

“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”

~~~

1993

Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.

You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.

The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.

What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?

Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.

At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.

It was around that time that he had found the mask.

It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.

He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.

Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.

He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.

“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.

“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”

Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.

Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.

~~~

The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.

However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.

So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.

He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.

After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”

Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.

“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.

“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?

“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.

“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”

You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.

“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.

Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.

“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.

He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”

He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.

~~~

“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.

Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It’s seventy degrees.”

“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”

Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”

Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.

So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.

It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.

On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.

“Is this really for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.

You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”

“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”

“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”

Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.

“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”

You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.

~~~

The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”

You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.

“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”

You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”

You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”

“How is it scary?” He laughed.

“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.

“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.

“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”

“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.

You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”

“Well, is that what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.

“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.

“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”

Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”

You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.

“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”

His heart practically stopped. “What?”

“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”

Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.

As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.

You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.

He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.

He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.

When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.

You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.

You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”

“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”

He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”

“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.

“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”

“What?” You asked.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.

~~~

2011

“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”

All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.

Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.

You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”

“So?”

You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)

- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.

- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.

- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)

- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.

- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!) and this post (thank you to aquazero!!!) and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.

- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.

- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.

- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.

- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.

- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.

bonus facts!!!:

- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)

- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.

- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.

[na0koz]

hiii how do you think jinx would handle a (partial) ldr? like reader is an international student and has to go home for a few weeks at a time. maybe mails her some naughty polaroids

toxic!jinx masterlist

cw: explicit polaroids, suggestive but no sex

oh hell yes you are cooking with the polaroid thing nonnie.

she insists on sleeping over the night before you go home for a couple weeks over the winter break so you can “maximise your time together”. she just wants to fuck, and that you do, but she doesn’t tell you that was her intention.

she clings to you with surprising force as you stand in the entryway of your apartment, your bags strewn around you as you hug her goodbye. when she finally lets go of you, jinx shoves a hoodie into your hands, one of hers.

“it’s cold. take this with you,” she sounds almost embarrassed, like a teenager in her first relationship.

she calls and texts you constantly, she’s honestly awful at the long distance aspect of your relationship. she doesn’t do well with being away from people she loves and pretty much gets separation anxiety. she’s like a puppy with the amount she calls you just to say that she went to the store or something.

she’ll never admit it but she feels slightly lost without you around. she doesn’t really know how she’s got this far without you by her side, but she does know that she absolutely does not like it when you’re away from her. if she had her way you wouldn’t be apart for more than 24 hours at a time, but she has to let you go a few times a year to visit your family.

a few days into your stay at home with your family, a thick envelope comes for you in the mail. your sibling comes and drops it in your lap and you smile to yourself when you notice the jagged pink and blue writing sprawled all over the paper.

excusing yourself to your room to open it, you carefully peel open the envelope to pull out its contents. inside is a letter, some other sheets of paper, a small box and finally some polaroids that slip out of the letter. they fall face down onto your bed, waiting for you to pick them up.

you read over the letter where you learn the extra sheets of paper are drawings jinx did for you, and the box contained a necklace she made. it has a J carved into one side of the pendant, and your initial on the other. you’re not really sure where jinx learned all these artistic skills but you’re not complaining.

at long last, you reach the polaroids - ones which jinx encouraged you to look at when you’re alone, followed by a drawn winky face at the end of her letter.

you raise an eyebrow at her message and flip over the photos. quickly, you realise why she warned you.

you’re faced with various photos of your girlfriend. ones of her perky tits, of her knelt on the floor naked, one of her face with an expression that you know means she just came (hard), her figure from behind in the bathroom mirror.

you spend a few minutes looking over each of them in great detail; your core starting to throb with each one. grabbing for your phone, you open your messages with her.

you | i got your letter

she replies almost instantly.

jinx :3 | you like it?

you’re not sure whether she’s referring to the gifts or the photos, which you suppose are also a gift in their own way. either way, you reply to her.

you | of course i do

jinx :3 | just showin u how much i miss u

you grin and go to stuff the polaroids away from the hands of your family. this isn’t the first time jinx had done this, she did it the last time you came home for a couple of weeks but the photos were much more tame. you suppose she’s shed some of the embarrassment now she’s done it once before.

tucking them away with the other ones you sneakily packed with you in your bag, you hear your mother calling you for dinner. you’ll have to ignore the wet patch in your panties for now. maybe you’ll call jinx later to show how grateful you are.

[serpentface]

A non-exhaustive selection of flowers of value or interest in Wardi culture

(not to scale)

Tantlami - a small bluish or purple flower in the aster family. The origin of its name is uncertain.

It blossoms in early to mid spring, being among the first blooms of the season. The flowers and leaves are edible (though rather flavorless and bitter respectively), with the former often being used as a garnish for food or wine. The flowers are appreciated for their blue hue, associated with wealth and royalty. Its flowers can yield a bluish-gray dye.

In fairly recent history, has been saddled with unfortunate baggage in being used as joke innuendo for the anus, largely in mockery of the figuratively and literally flowery tendencies of love poetry (the idea being 'some of these poets would compare an asshole to a goddamn flower'). The word has not been Fully absorbed into scatological humor, though it is now more common for people to refer to it as 'a yachouy tantlami' (the tantlami flower), and being a child named Tantlami is a more difficult experience than it used to be.

Janaët - a native flowering tobacco. Its name almost certainly stems from or is related to a color word for 'white' (jana).

It contains nicotine, though at substantially lower concentrations than tobacco cultivars first brought from Bur (which do not grow as well here and are very valuable trade goods). It is one of two native plants with notable stimulant effects, either cured with the milder-tasting broülje to chew or smoked on its own. It has significance in herbal medicine, with its effects of energizing the body and mind being attributed in part to regulating proper blood flow and strengthening the heart. It is smoked as a supplement to many medicinal procedures, and its juice and fresh leaves are thought to assist in cleaning wounds and healing snakebites. It is also used recreationally, chewed by laborers and travelers to keep energized and smoked for a calming effect.

The flowers are given some degree of phallic associations due to the shape of their projecting unfurled petals, which in turn grants them association with protection and good fortune. Imagery and actual garlands of the flowers are considered to be lucky. The janaët is a standard well-wishing offering for weddings, expressing hope for vitality and protection within the union.

Camnina etsisima - This flower's name just means 'bleeding bush', owing to the color and the way the petals are initially green and appear to slowly 'soak' red. They are also sometimes likened to the appearance of fire, with its second most common name being a similar 'burning bush'. The plant comes into full bloom during the mid to late spring and is regarded for the beauty of its vibrant red color and sweet scent.

Camnina etsitsima is well adapted to dry conditions and most populous in the semi-arid parts of the region. Its leaves are thick and store significant quantities of water, though are toxic to consume by humans and can be fatal in very large doses. Small amounts are used as an emetic and laxative. It is also a known herbal abortifacient, though is one of the less favored methods due to its side effects, causing severe stomach pain (in addition to the aforementioned) in large enough doses to be viable. Its flowers can yield a red-brown dye.

Camiche - flowers of the camiche tree. Its name is very ancient and of completely uncertain origin.

The flowers have a strong sweet smell and mildly sweet taste. They are used in teas and wine mixes (or to make wine in some cases) and can be eaten raw or cooked. Almost the entire rest of the tree is edible as well- young leaves and shoots can be eaten raw, mature leaves are boiled, dried, and powdered to supplement other foods, the seedpods can be eaten raw young and can be powdered into flour old, and the seeds are edible in all phases and can be pressed for oil. The bark is edible but rather bitter and unpleasant and considered a desperate famine food, but is used in herbalism to ease stomach pain and bring down fevers. The tree itself is among the more abundant sources of wood available, poor for woodworking but valuable as fuel, and the majority of camiche trees you'll find near human settlements show evidence of coppicing or pollarding. It is also highly resistant to drought conditions (though is Not resistant to rarer flood years, and suffers in particularly harsh winters), and can be a fairly reliable source of food in famines.

This tree has monumental historical significance to the diet, and its presence is often indicative of longstanding human settlement and passage (especially given its seeds were also an early form of currency among a wide range of peoples south of the Viper). Both ancient and modern land travel routes by nomads can be identified in part by the concentration of camiche along the way. An unusual density of camiche in the far northwestern Highlands (contemporary White Hills People land) marks the location where the last of the ancient cairn-builder proto-Wardi people died out almost two millennia ago, with many of the trees still growing on their mound graves.

In Wardi culture, the trees are regarded as sacred and notably beautiful as well as useful, and are heavily cultivated in urban settings (also at least in part because their flowers help mask the smells of these urban settings). The camiche is sometimes given the 'gaibenyo haidem' ('great/peerless provider') epithet otherwise mostly used for cattle, God, and/or land to denote something's intrinsic ability to sustain a majority of basic human needs. Like the slaughter of a sacred animal, cutting down a camiche tree is regulated by (though not Prohibited by) taboo and requires additional ceremony and for part of the yield to be given back in sacrifice. Coppicing/pollarding or mass-harvesting of living flowers or leaves requires an offering of sprinkled milk, or your own blood if you're low on milk.

Nyari - nyari is just the word for lotuses. There are two species of lotus naturalized here, but this orange-yellow one is native across lands east of the Mouth seaway and was first given this name.

The native nyari is fairly hardy and its root system can survive periods of drought (though not completely dry conditions), emerging seemingly out of nowhere from near-dry mud when the water returns. In any environmental condition, their blooming signals seasonal return to a time of plenty. Lotuses are potent symbols of creation, rebirth, seasonal abundance, and fertility. They also have associations with cleanliness and purity, as they are perceived as only growing in clean water and are intentionally cultivated in manmade water sources. They are important items as offerings and are garlands for brides, kings, and animal sacrifices. Lotuses are also standard gifts for the well-wishing of a marriage, expressing hope for abundance in the couple's life and the birth of healthy children. Symbols of lotuses are extremely common in decoration, and fabric faux lotuses are frequent features of men's hair ornaments. In most variants of the creation story, God and the first people emerged from the primordial sea either like, from, or as lotus flowers, with the first man Hounyari's name effectively being 'first of the lotuses'.

Their primary value is ornamental and spiritual, though their roots and rhizomes are also edible when cooked thoroughly. Their primary use in herbalism is to assist in female fertility, and their roots are an ingredient for the partly medicinal anaebi soup used to encourage and maintain the health of pregnancies.

Suömitsima - a type of poppy with red-orange or orange petals. Its name is straightfowardly a contraction of 'blood poppy'. In some traditions, the first suömitsima bloomed where the blood of Erub's sons and grandsons spilled in their grisly murders after Imperial Burri conquest. It also appears in a very old animal folktale shared in South Wardi and Cholemdinae oral history where a clan of hyenas and a clan of aurochs fight viciously over a drying spring, with the poppies blooming from the blood of the dead when both parties finally agree to truce in times of scarcity.

It is among the earliest and most prolific springtime blooms and beloved for it, being a mainstay for garlands made for spring ceremonial occasions (or for fun). The likening to blood is also an association with vitality, livelihood, and renewal, and imagery of the flower is highly favorable for decoration and jewelry. Its seeds are used in herbalism as a sedative and painkiller, though their concentration of morphine is fairly low.

Ibriya - this is a type of cat's ear flower. Its name has no obvious origin, though was likely derived either a solar term or the word 'hairy' (rijade) due to the texture of its leaves. It adapts well to a variety of environments and can be seen in bloom well into late summer, when most other flowers have long gone to seed. It has an epithet as the 'beloved of the sun' and is a common figure in romantic poetry as a symbol of long-lasting love.

The entire plant is edible and its roasted roots are appreciated for teas, though its leaves are generally considered famine/peasant food. A yellow dye can be derived from its flowers. In herbalism, its roots are used for digestive issues and are thought to improve the health of the liver.

Cabouri - This is a species of wild rose, and the only one native south of the Viper seaway. The name cabouri is of uncertain etymology but Might relate to the word for 'testicle' (awourim), possibly referring to the swollen rosehips. It fares well in a variety of habitats and is Relatively drought tolerant, though it is less common in semi-arid conditions in which it requires a permanent nearby water source to survive.

Its petals, roots, and leaves can be used for tea, its hips are very nutritious and eaten raw, in teas, or in preserves. Rosewater is a favored beverage, either for drinking on its own, mixing with wine, or to flavor deserts. Perfumes derived from roses are very popular and tend to be considered a more masculine scent, often added to oils used for the beard and hair. Its thorns are sometimes used for bloodletting. In herbalism, its hips tend to be used as a cure-all, especially for inflammation and colds. A mixture of fermented honey and crushed rose hips consumed in wine or tea is taken for illnesses affecting the lungs and throat.

Roses tend to be associated with masculine beauty and and vitality, with the sharp thorns and lovely flowers being compared to favorable qualities of handsomeness and strength. It's also a very common motif in Wardi folktales and poetry for secret lovers to hide themselves from their parents/spouses/etc within rosebushes (often injuring themselves in the process, or leaving torn shreds of clothing behind as evidence), as a symbol for foolhardy love/lust or just as a comedic setpiece. This actually derives from an old Burri myth about the conception of a minor god of flowers and crossroads, whose deity mother and human father had an adulterous tryst hidden in a rose bush and stained the white flowers red with their blood.

[perlelune]

Happier Than Ever | Rafe Cameron

Loving Rafe was a rollercoaster you could never get off of. Sometimes thrilling, but mostly terrifying. And some way, somehow, he always found a way to draw you back in for another ride.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Drug Addiction, Drunk Driving, Kook! Reader, Toxic Relationship, Abuse, Emotional Blackmail, Suicidal Talk

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You smile as Marissa tells her story once more. No matter how many times you hear it, it never gets old.

“Who does that? I mean he didn’t even have his driving license. I was so embarrassed-”

The rest of the girls in the circle you formed in the living room gasp. You nurse your beer before taking another sip. You take a bite of the birthday cake, humming in appreciation of the cinnamon and pineapple undertones. For a minute, you soak it all in. The soft pop pouring from the speakers in your friend’s living room. The casual chatter between friends.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, enjoying your cake in a corner of the couch.

It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enjoy a night like this. Quiet and calm. Not since your breakup. Spending time with your friends always fell to the wayside in your previous relationship, your ex finding issues with how much time you spend with them instead of him. It wasn’t uncommon for you to drop everything whenever he called. Girls’ night outs. Sleepovers. Even birthdays, like today.

He was the sun around which your entire life orbited and he couldn’t stand anything or anyone stealing your attention away. It took you a long time to leave. More than you’re comfortable admitting.

It’s not like things were bad all the time. In fact, most of the time, they were good. Not just good. They were great. So great you easily forgave and forgot. Forgot about the tears. Forgot about the rough hands on your skin. Forgot about the cruel words. Forgot about the screaming and nights lying awake, wondering what you did wrong for him to be so angry at you again.

He was a magician. With the right words and that twinkle in his ocean gaze, he could make all the hurt vanish. Like none of it was ever there to begin with. The same eyes that made you feel small could make your stomach flutter. The same mouth that would praise you could tear you down as easily.

Your heart was never at rest, as you never knew which version of him you’d get on a particular day. The sweet and kind version. Or the paranoid and volatile one.

So many little things could set him off. A throwaway comment from his dad. An argument with his sister. Some stranger's gaze resting on you half a second too long. 

Nothing you did could ever get that chip off his shoulder. No amount of care, patience or love could ever reassure him enough. It was exhausting, which is why you left. Well, more like…ran away. Avoided his side of the island. Ghosted him. Hid away really. 

It’s been a few weeks now. You are slowly retrieving some semblance of peace in your life. It’s easier when he’s not around. Easier to breathe. Easier to move around.

Marissa turns to you.

“I’m so happy that you could make it.”

You beam at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She pauses, her fingers tapping the side of her beer bottle.

“You did last year,” she points out. 

You tense. Last year. You never even told her what that was about. You were dressed up and ready and he stopped you on your way out, questioning why you were looking this good for “just some chicks’ get-together”. You shudder as the memory flashes through your brain. Needless to say you never made it to your friend’s party.

“Yeah…sorry about that,” you mumble, scratching your arm.

She smiles in reassurance, squeezing your arm.

“It’s okay. But no more missing my birthday, okay?”

“Okay, promise,” you reply, nodding.

The conversation is halted by the buzzing of your phone. Your chest clenches at the sight of the familiar name across the screen. Marissa steals a glimpse from across the couch and tilts her head in disapproval. The two of them were oil and water, never getting along. In fact, she got in his face quite a few times. And he seemed to enjoy riling her up even more.

“Don’t answer that.” She nudges your shoulder. “I already told you, you need to block him.”

In theory, you know you should sever all ties. But you haven’t found the nerve to cross that bridge yet. Sending him straight to voicemail and leaving him on read is the height of what you can achieve right now. Besides, you shudder to think how he’d react to you blocking him. He damn near broke your door down the day after you texted him that you two were over.

“It could be important…” You get to your feet, stepping away from the couch and your friend’s critical stare. “I’m just gonna tell him to stop. I’ll be right back.”

You head to the balcony. You inhale a lungful of courage before swiping to accept the call. 

“Hey, angel. Miss me?” Rafe slurs drunkenly. 

Your brows knit. “You shouldn’t drive when you’re like this, Rafe.”

He barks out a derisive laugh. “You hear this shit, bro? Acting like she cares about me all of sudden.”

Your chest twinges, his words hurting more than they should.

Another familiar voice faintly echoes in the background. 

“Is that Topper?”

Your frown deepens. They both sound too inebriated to be driving anyone home, let alone themselves.

As you ponder if you should call Sarah or Ward, a crashing sound echoes through the phone, the boys’ laughter dying. Your stomach drops. 

“Rafe?” you call. 

You frantically text him. When you get no response, you try Topper. He doesn’t pick up immediately. 

At least twenty minutes slog by in terrifying silence.

Chewing on your thumb, you wait for the call to reach him.

When you finally hear his voice, relief seeps through you. If he’s fine, then Rafe must also be, right?

But your hopes are swiftly pulverized when he informs you that Rafe is being transported to the hospital. Panic flutters through you. You don’t want to care. You and him aren’t together anymore. It’s not your problem…Except it is. You can’t quell the worry pooling in your gut, the racing of your heart at the thought that Rafe could be hurt. Or worse.

Anxiously rubbing your hands, you head back to the living room. Marissa won’t like what you have to say, but dread has wrapped its fist around your heart since you heard that horrifying sound on the other end of the line, and hasn’t eased up since. The not knowing is worse than anything.

Noting the contrite pinch to your face, your friend heaves out a deep exhale.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to see him,” she says.

You chew on your lip. You know how this looks. Like you’re that girl who picks a guy over her friends again. Still, you remind yourself it’s not like the other times. You aren’t together anymore. You’re over him. You’re way past that. You’re just making sure he’s safe.

“I think something happened. Something really bad.”

Marissa shrugs and takes a swig of her beer. You try to ignore her and your other friend’s pointed stares. Their quietness speaks volumes, the weight of their judgment bearing heavily in the room.

“He always does that. Who knows if he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You mean crashed his car on purpose? Marissa, come on…”

She tosses her head backwards, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Whatever. I’m used to you bailing.” She glances at her freshly painted nails. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Her accusation aches but you shove it aside. You bid everyone goodbye and grab your keys from the lobby. 

The entire drive your heart is in your throat, your clammy hands tight around the wheel.

The worst scenarios keep playing in your head like a horrible nightmare. The picture of Rafe, a white sheet draped over his unmoving body, won’t stray from your raging thoughts. Why do you feel like this is your fault? He always had troubles with overindulging in liquor and other party favors. It’s something the two of you often argued about. But he had gotten better about it lately, before the breakup. He’d thrown away the drugs, eased up on the drinking. He was better. It’s part of why leaving felt okay.

Your eyes well up with tears. You wipe them in frustration, focusing on the dark road ahead. 

Sucking a wide breath, you remind yourself. You’re not responsible for Rafe. None of this is your fault.

Still, as you pull into the hospital’s driveway, guilt lingers within you.

Thanks to Topper’s instructions, you find Rafe’s room quickly.

You’re a breathless mess when you arrive, having raced through the white corridors. Sarah and Wheezie hug you as soon as they see you. You return it, having missed them in the last few weeks. You had come to think of the youngest of the Cameron siblings as the little sister you never had. You often went out to have ice cream while she told you of the gossip from her school. As for Sarah, the two of you go way back. While not the closest, you’ve been in the same circles since kindergarten. The puffiness of her brown eyes doesn’t escape you. While there’s no love lost between her and her big brother, she seems as shaken as you are.

Ward greets you with a nod. Meeting his gaze is difficult. He always told you you were a good influence on his son. A good girl from a good family. That you were exactly what Rafe needed to set himself straight and finally grow up. You can tell from the way his blue eyes are trained on you that Ward is a little disappointed, that he expected you to stick it out through the storm with his son. The people-pleaser inside you shrinks a bit at that.

Rose at least appears to empathize with your plight, flashing you a quick smile. She too seems to have cried, which stuns you the most. It’s no secret she and Rafe have never gotten along.

The Camerons make space for you to tiptoe further inside the room.

You take shaky steps towards Rafe. It hurts seeing him like that, hunched over at the edge of the bed in a hospital gown. While he��s not attached to tubes and wires, your chest seizes as you note the sling around his left arm, his busted lip and the long cut running across his brow.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Ward says, gesturing at his daughters to vacate the room.

Silence hangs for a while after the rest of the Cameron clan leaves, giving you and Rafe privacy. Eyes clinging to the floor, you girdle your breath until he speaks.

“You came.”

You look up, Rafe’s cool tone startling you. You approach him.

“Of course I came.”

The muscles of his jaw clench.

“You didn’t have to,” he says curtly.

You cup his cheek, “Rafe-”

He slaps your hand away, his eyes rolling back as he unleashes a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He sniffs and chuckles but it lacks humor. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You don’t give two shits about me.”

Disbelief strikes you. How could Rafe utter such words after everything you’ve been through together?

Your brows furrow as you graze his arm, whispering softly, 

“That’s not true, Rafe and you know it.”

“Do I?” He taps his temple with his healthy arm, stammering angrily, “C-Cause I had so many thoughts in my head when you left…”

“Rafe-”

“I know we weren’t perfect but I thought we were pretty happy, y’know?” 

A surge of tears presses beneath your lashes.

“We were.” You pause and take a deep breath. “Sometimes. But you weren’t…” Your lip quakes as you’re hit with the remembrance of how bad his mood swings were. You rub your neck, the phantom sensation of Rafe’s fingers squeezing it tight sizzling your flesh. Your voice comes out small. “We weren’t good for each other, Rafe.”

He bites his bottom lip and slowly releases it before sneering, “Bet you’d have preferred if I died tonight, get it all over with.”

“What? How can you even say that?” you say, your pitch spiking with shock.

“Y’know maybe I should…Maybe I should just get my dad’s gun, blow my fucking brains out and stop being such a burden to you.”

He mimics the gesture of shooting a gun through his skull and tears spill over your cheek.

You cradle his face.

“Don’t say things like that, Rafe. Please…” you sob.

“What else am I supposed to say, huh? You left me. Bet you think I’m a fuckup too. Just like my dad.”

“I don’t think that.”

“I wanted to die.”

“Rafe.”

His watery gaze dives into yours.

“When you left, I wanted to fucking die.”

Your breath falters.

“Being without you is hell, angel.” Desperation oozes from his voice. “I just wanted to feel…I don’t know, anything else.” He buries his face in his hand, mumbling under his breath, “I-I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”

Your heart sinks. You never imagined breaking up with Rafe would send him in such a state. A wave of guilt consumes your insides. Perhaps it was selfish, taking your distance the way you did. 

You place your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know things were this bad for you. I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “I mean, how could you? It’s not like you answer when I call.”

The air chills around you. Your lips clamp shut at that, your head lowering. You did ignore all of Rafe’s calls. And now you find yourself wondering if there were cries for help, if he was drowning and needed you to pull him ashore. If you had picked up, just once, maybe he wouldn’t be here right now. 

The doctor comes in and you step back. Rafe is thankfully cleared, presenting no concussion or major injuries besides his broken arm. You meet Topper outside and are relieved to find him in much better shape than your ex. Outside of a nasty scrape on his cheek, he’s completely unharmed. 

“Were you drunk too?” you can’t help but ask him.

“I…Yeah, but I wasn’t the one driving.” Topper hesitates, nervous as his eyes meet yours. “Rafe, he…he took some other stuff at the party.”

“I figured,” you sigh.

“He just kept driving faster the more he ranted about you.”

Your chest clenches. You glower at him.

“You’re supposed to be his friends, you and Kelce. You’re supposed to look out for him.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

Your gaze darts around the hospital corridor.

“Where’s Kelce, anyway?”

Topper scratches the back of his neck.

“He…passed out in a bush at the party.”

Your shoulders sag. Typical Kook shenanigans. Not one of those boys could actually behave responsibly. All they ever do is enable each other and egg each other on to do stupid shit. Then they let someone else clean up their mess. Fatigue settles over you. You’ve been here before. 

You glance at your phone. It’s beyond late. You walk up to Ward.

“I should probably go back home now. I only wanted to check on Rafe, make sure he's okay."

Crossing his arms, the Cameron patriarch astounds you when he utters, “Why don’t you stay at Tannyhill tonight?”

You flash a nervous smile.

“Mr. Cameron, Rafe and I-”

“I know you two are broken up, and I get that.” He heaves out a weary sigh as he considers Rafe. “I know my son has…issues, sweetheart, but he always did better around you.” His piercing gaze travels from Rafe to you. “He hasn’t been doing well since you left him.”

You recline into silence. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Rafe look this defeated. It worries you. You have no desire to give him the wrong idea but you also don’t see yourself just going home after hearing the things he shared with you. While you don’t plan on getting back with him, you can’t just abandon him.

“Okay. But just for tonight,” you specify. 

Ward beams at you. “That's all I ask, sweetheart.”

You end up getting into a car with Ward, Rose and Rafe. Wheezie trails behind Sarah, as you let her borrow the keys of your truck to drive Topper back home. She promises to return them to you in the morning. A heavy quiet coats the air as you share the backseat with Rafe, his stepmom sitting in the front with Ward. He’s not even looking at you, his blue eyes glued to the window. Dejected, you twine your hands in your lap. You’re used to that, Rafe ignoring you when he’s upset. But tonight it stings even more, fueling the guilt simmering inside you.

As Ward’s car pulls into the long alley of the Cameron’s mansion, nostalgia tugs at your heart.

Tannyhill was practically a second home to you this past year. Your parents travel a lot for work and Rafe used to coax you into staying with him most nights, just so you’re not alone.

You don’t even think as you follow Rafe to his bedroom, your feet carrying you absently since you’ve done it so many times before.

You inspect the room. Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here.

He grimaces as he struggles to remove his clothes while wearing the sling.

“I can’t get this fucking shirt off,” Rafe grumbles.

You trudge up to him.

“Let me help you.”

Rafe observes you, falling strangely quiet while you slip off his shirt for him. Your cheeks heat when you do the same for his pants. 

When you’re done, you try to head for the door.

Rafe’s hand clutches yours, halting your departure.

“Stay… please, angel? You can wear one of my shirts like you used to.”

A forlorn expression decorates his features. Despite your best efforts, it tugs at your heartstrings.

You gnaw on your lip. “It’s probably best if I stay in the guest room.”

His thumb sweeps over the inside of your palm.

“I won’t try anything funny, I swear…if that’s what you’re worried about.” His brows draw together. “I’m just in so much pain, and I can barely move my arm.”

You unleash a resigned breath.

“You promise to stay on your side of the bed?” When a playful smile creeps on his lips, your tone sharpens. “Rafe, I’m only here as your friend. I’m serious.”

His gaze narrows, suspicion sneaking in his tone. “Why? You’re like seeing somebody now or some shit?”

“No, I’m not.” You pause before adding cheekily, “And even if I were, it’d be none of your business.”

His cheek pulses.

A flicker of jealousy ignites his gaze, indicating that, in Rafe’s opinion, who you're seeing now is still very much his business. But his features smooth over quickly, his voice mellowing.

“I’d just feel better if you slept next to me, angel. I don’t feel like I’m asking for much, am I?” He pauses before sneering, “Or do you hate my fucking guts so much that I can’t even ask for a little favor?”

“I don’t hate you, Rafe.”

He cocks his head, hope lacing his deep timbre.

“Really? You don’t?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you admit.

A wide grin blooms on his face at that. He curls his hand around your waist, pulling you a little closer. 

“Then prove it. Stay with me tonight.”

His blue eyes are honest, pleading. Your resolve thaws like ice in the summer heat. 

“Fine,” you yield. You gear yourself to leave, announcing, “I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

The hand on your waist tightens as he teases, “Why not here? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

“Rafe,” you scold, prying his fingers off your waist.

He snickers, lifting his hand. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

A pang of melancholy pierces your chest when you pick one of Rafe’s shirts to wear in bed. It feels a little weird sharing a bed with him when you’re not together anymore.

When you step out of the bathroom, you steal a glance at him. The blanket only covers half of his body, exposing the bare, suntanned muscles of his chest. You ignore Rafe’s smirk as he catches your lingering gaze. Averting your eyes, you make your way to your side of the bed.

You slip under the covers, reassured that he’s respecting your wishes by giving you space. But it doesn’t last.

In the middle of the night, you’re forced to berate him for breaking the boundaries you set.

His good arm snakes around you, his broad chest draping over your back.

“Rafe…”

He nuzzles your neck from behind, humming as he basks in your smell. “Please, just let me have this,” he begs.

You sigh. You don’t have it in you to deny Rafe tonight. Not when he could have died. Not when you feel some responsibility for that. 

“Okay, but no wandering hands.”

He nods and snuggles even closer to you. You can’t help but grow a bit dizzy as the familiar scent of Rafe’s cologne clogs your senses.

You close your eyes and drift into sleep.

In the morning, you wake up to Rafe dragging his fingertips along your cheek, an entranced expression etched on his features.

“I missed waking up like this,” he rasps.

For a while, as you get lost in how bright and blue his eyes look in the soft morning glow, you forget. Remembrance settles over you however when Rafe’s thumb travels to your bottom lip. This is the kind of thing you can’t allow anymore.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and remove his hand from your face.

“Well don’t get used to it.”

Rafe’s brows crumple. “Ouch. When did you get so mean, angel?”

“I learnt it from you.”

He actually seems taken aback by that, speechless as he gapes at you.

His surprise allows you to make a beeline for the bathroom.

“Dibs on the first shower,” you chime, slamming the door closed before he can make another comment that sends your heart in a frenzy.

You use Rafe’s time away in the bathroom to focus on another task. A very important task. One you call the post-bender sweep. It’s a little tragic that you even have a name for it, or that you’ve had to do it so often. So you roll up your sleeves and begin rummaging through all of Rafe’s drawers. No corner of the room is left unchecked.

It’s how he finds you as he steps out of the shower, damp blonde locks grazing his forehead, the towel hanging low on his tapered waist. 

Confusion fills his cobalt eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

“I know you weren’t just drunk last night Rafe. Topper told me everything.”

“Fucking snitch,” Rafe hisses. He inches closer to you. “Look, I’m gonna get it together, alright?”

You crouch near the bed and reach under the mattress. Rafe’s face goes taut as you feel between the wooden slats. “Angel-”

Your fingers dislodge a plastic bag between the slats. You examine its insides. 

“Coke, expected. Well that…is new. Is that meth?” you list sourly. You wish you could say you were disappointed. Instead, you’re just exhausted and vaguely angry. This is a step back. A huge one. “This is poison, Rafe.”

You get to your feet and dash to the bathroom. As you empty every ounce of powder, crystals and every single pill into the toilet bowl, Rafe grips the side of his head. Panic flickers on his face.

“That’s 10k down the drain.”

“Well, Barry can go through me. I’m not letting you do this to yourself again.”

You flush the toilet and meet his eyes. Their intensity has you shifting in discomfort.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

His lips slowly curve upward.

“You still care about me.”

Your heart skips a beat. You blink and shuffle away from the toilet. False hopes, you recall, you weren’t supposed to give them to him. You decide to steer him away from that line of thought.

“Of course I do,” you reply. “You’re my friend.”

Rafe’s smile vanishes. His tone becomes clipped. “Friends, huh? Okay.”

Your plans to only stay the night are thwarted at breakfast. After sharing a copious meal with the Camerons, Ward pulls you aside, practically begging you to prolong your presence at Tannyhill for his son’s sake. 

“You and I both know he needs you, sweetheart.”

At first, you’re hesitant. This wasn’t the plan. You’ve fought so hard against the instinct not to put Rafe’s needs and wants before your own. Tooth and nail quite frankly. The first week after your breakup, not picking up when he called made you physically ill.

You wept about it for days, and almost ran right back into his arms. Without your friends, you probably would have.

Now, your life’s back on track. You can breathe again. You’re happier. The crippling fear of what Rafe would say or think does not hover over your every move anymore.

When Sarah returns your truck’s keys, you consider driving yourself back home and never looking back. Your fingers curl around the keys. It’s right there beneath your palm, your freedom. But there’s just one tiny issue. Rafe’s misty eyes catch yours across the table. And in less than a second, you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

So you remain at Tannyhill much longer than you’d like, taking care of Rafe and spending nights in his arms. The ambiguity of the situation fosters doubts in your mind, threatening the fragile equilibrium you found.

So as soon as Rafe’s noticeably improved, you elect to go back home. One morning, you rise with the sun and start collecting all the things you left behind in his room. It’s imperative to create some distance between you and him again. After all, you’ve gone above and beyond. Initially, this was about checking on your friend. A blind man could see that Rafe wants more than that however. You fear things will spiral to a point of no-return if you don’t leave now. You did so well these last few weeks, getting over Rafe. Or trying to at least. Now all that hard work is on the rocks.

Displeasure paints Rafe’s features as he watches you shove as many of the stray objects you scattered in his space inside your bag. You ended things so abruptly the first time that you never bothered coming back to collect everything you left in Rafe’s room.

“Come on, you could stay a little longer,” he pleads.

“It’s time for me to go home, Rafe.”

“Then just stay the night. You can leave tomorrow.”

“Rafe, it’s been well over a week.”

He sucks his teeth, sniggering meanly, “That excited to be rid of me, huh?”

Your forehead creases.

“It’s not like that.”

Rafe scoffs, “Nah, I get it. You’ve moved on and you never want to see me again, right?”

“Rafe…”

His fingers thread through yours, drawing you back to him. Towering above you, he whispers, “It's just one night. It won’t be different from the other ones. I just want to be able to feel you one last time.”

You purse your lips. You could never say no to anything Rafe asks when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his lifeline, the only thing keeping his head above water. 

It's probably not a great idea. Rafe’s been getting handsier than you’d like these last few days, and you didn’t have the heart to push him away. But what’s one more night? You’ll be gone tomorrow anyways.

“Okay,” you concede.” But I’m really leaving tomorrow.”

A victorious grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course, angel.”

At first, your last night at Tannyhill does indeed seem like the others. You slip under the covers next to Rafe, as you’ve done every other night. His light snores fill the room, his arm finding its way around your waist. Like always. You’ve gotten used to this. You don’t protest, finding comfort in the knowledge you’ll be done with everything Rafe Cameron the next day.

So you let him get close once more. His heat encases you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck. You don’t even give much thought to the thick bulge poking the small of your back. This is Rafe. He grows hard half the time when you cuddle. Usually, you get him to back off with a frown and a light shove on his chest.

But tonight’s different.

He starts rubbing against you, his hand sneaking below the shirt covering your body.

“Rafe? What are you doing?” you whisper, your voice high-pitched from shock.

“Shh, quiet, angel,” he hushes, trailing sloppy, heated pecks along your neck and shoulder.

“Rafe, you can’t…” Your voice dwindles to a gasp when his digits creep between under your ass, teasing your folds through your panties. He pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingertips. You bite down a sharp cry. 

“I said I wanted to feel you one last time, angel.”  

He shoves a finger inside your panties and sinks between your walls. The embarrassing squelching of your cunt echoes in the room, Rafe beginning to pump inside you at a steady pace. Naturally, he knows exactly how to move his fingers to turn you into a panting, shivering mess against him. You try to resist it, ignore the fire rising in your core, but your skin is easily set ablaze by Rafe’s familiar touch. Your belly knots. Tingles bloom on your flesh. He sweeps along your tender spots and you choke on your spit.

Heat gathers in your face as you grow slicker beneath Rafe’s hand.

He tugs on your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Rafe shifts position. He places himself above you and shimmies out of his boxers. Alarm bells ring inside your head when his thick tip prods at your entrance.

“Rafe…”

Words wither on your tongue as he buries his cock inside you in one blunt thrust. A quiet scream flies from your mouth, your chest heaving.

“Don’t be like this,” Rafe grunts, arrogance dripping from his lustful timbre. “I know you’ve been missing how my fat cock feels inside that tight little pussy, right?”

“We’re broken up, Rafe,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as your walls strain at his size.

“So?” He pulls out of you, only to sheathe himself inside your wet heat again. Your eyes roll back, your fingers clutching weakly at the sheets.

Rafe’s half-lidded gaze darkens as he drinks you in, his tone getting possessive.

“You’re in my bed, wearing my shirt. I’d say that makes you mine.”

The protests on your tongue evaporate, your thoughts dipping into a tailspin as Rafe slams his cock inside your dripping cunt. Desperation and lust marks each of his deep, pointed thrusts. Your head tosses over the pillows.

Stars fill your sight, pleasure swirling through your limbs. Air dwindles in your lungs as he stretches you out deliciously. His thick cock brushes against your sweet spot repeatedly and your lids flutter. Rafe’s own breaths grow more ragged. His throat bobs, his hard muscles clenching with his motions. He balances his arm above your head, looming over you as sweat dots on his brow.

His warm breath grazes your face as he chuckles.

“It’s like coming home, right? Like I never left.”

“I’m gonna get my shit together. I swear to you, angel.” He rests his forehead against yours. Rafe’s masculine scent floods your senses and your mind spins. You keen as he snaps his taut hips into yours, helpless as Rafe cages you with his frame. “Just don’t leave me again, okay? Please, I need you.”

Over the next few weeks, while his arm is healing, you and Rafe relapse into old habits. First, it’s that night at his house, the one that stirs your unease for a while. Then it’s a quickie in the back of his truck after he offers to drop you off one day. Progressively, it becomes more than that. Dates and late night calls, like before. 

Rafe complaining to you for hours about Sarah or the weight of his dad’s expectations. Rafe sending flowers to your doorstep. Rafe making butterflies swarm in your stomach when he tells you that you’re the only one who understands him.

The walls you erected crumble day by day, shattered by his persistence to win you back. He showers you with gifts and attention on a near daily basis now, even going as far as planning the most romantic evening for Valentine’s day. Though you had plans with your friends, Rafe is so adamant to have you all to himself that you ditch Galentine's day cocktails to be with him.

Slowly but surely, the Cameron heir weasels his way back into your heart. 

Most of your friends aren’t thrilled with your decision, of course. Marissa in particular.

“Guys like him don’t change,” she tells you one night as he’s blowing up your phone with texts inquiring about your whereabouts. You fervently disagree. He’s just worried about you, you convince yourself. That's how much he cares.

Of course Rafe has changed. He’s earning your trust, one day at a time. He has his temper in check. He’s better now. He’s proven it several times.

Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

Besides, though you struggle to admit it, there’s something intoxicating about being Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend. A feeling so heady and electric. One you shamefully kind of missed.

You trust Rafe. Those are the words that keep playing in your mind as you wait for him downstairs. You fiddle with your solo cup, taking a tiny sip of your beer. Techno music blares from the speakers in Kelce’s living room. The girls next to you gossip about a crush on some guy you don’t know. You feign interest, giving a dull nod and a smile every now and then. Lavish, hedonistic Kook parties aren’t exactly your scene anymore. Rafe practically had to drag you here.

The initial plan was to meet with your friends tonight. But Rafe closed off when you told him that. He then pleaded with you to come. You caved in, because refusing him has been incredibly difficult since the accident. So you’ve stopped trying to argue with him. 

You go along with most of what he asks, even if it stirs your discomfort at times. 

You glance at the time on your phone. 

Rafe said he needed to go to the bathroom earlier. 

That was nearly thirty minutes ago. Your brows draw together. Taking a leak shouldn’t take that long in theory, right? Or are you this paranoid now?

Still, you can’t quell the dread tickling your insides. A sense of deja vu seeps through you.

Your feet carry you upstairs, guided by your urgent need to find Rafe. 

Kelce’s house is huge and you nearly get lost multiple times. Your cheeks flame as you stumble upon a couple in one of the guest rooms. You hastily apologize and slam the door shut, resuming your search. It takes you a long time of blind wandering through endless corridors before you find him. 

He’s indeed in a bathroom. At least that, he didn’t lie about…unlike the line of coke he’s snorting above the sink.

“Rafe?” you call, frozen on the doorstep. “What are you doing?”

A brief glimpse of panic flits across his face before he bursts out in laughter.

He makes his way to you and tilts your chin upward.

“It’s a party, I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.”

You scowl at him. “That’s not the point. You promised...”

Rafe sniffs, wiping the remnants of white powder beneath his nose.

“Come on, just relax.” He crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of you on the door. It slams shut as Rafe presses his body against yours, his voice sinking to a lewd rasp. “Why don’t you and I get into the hot tub downstairs and…”

“No,” you assert. “You promised, Rafe. No more drugs.”

When he tries to cup your cheek, you shove his hand away. His jaw clenches.

“Why do you always have to be such a stuck up bitch?”

An astonished breath leaps off your throat.

“I’m sorry?”

Instead of apologizing, a broad grin stretches on his lips, “I’m just saying. Maybe you’re the one who needs to loosen up.”

You note the hollowness in Rafe’s eyes and the sweat glistening over his bare skin.

Tears rush to your eyes. You’ve learnt to recognize the signs. Empty promises, like always. Why did you expect things to be different this time?

You jump back from the door, slipping beneath Rafe’s arm. Wiping irate tears, you glare at him.

“This was a mistake. My friends were right. You’re never going to change.” 

You are such a fool. The depth of his deception didn’t hit you until you saw him bent over that sink. You caught him this time. Who knows how many times Rafe lied right to your face?

Once more, you allowed him to drag you into his spiral, offering no resistance and believing every sweet word and promise.

Closing your eyes, you suck in a deep breath. You think back to the last few weeks, to every time you surrendered an inch and Rafe took a mile. And you just let it happen. You land on a decision. This is the last time you let Rafe Cameron puppeteer his way back into your life.

You make a beeline for the exit. He impedes your path, towering over you as he stands before the door.

“Get out of my way, Rafe,” you hiss.

Rafe squints at you, taking slow, threatening steps towards you.

“Why? So you can leave me, again?” Something lurks in Rafe’s gaze, turning his blue eyes almost black. Chills crawl over your spine. You shrink, retreating as far as the restricted space in the bathroom allows. “No way, you’re not leaving me.”

You chew on your lip, a surge of adrenaline spiking through your veins. You try to run past him but he grabs your wrists and slams you harshly against the bathroom wall.

Your voice comes out a quivering sob.

“Rafe, don’t you dare…”

As you try to wrestle out of his hold, he bangs your head against the tiles. Sharp needles of pain pierce through your skull. You grow dizzy as your legs start shaking. Rafe uses the momentum to push you onto the floor. 

“Dare what, huh? Take what’s mine?” he snarls. His broad body drapes over yours. You taste the liquor on his tongue as he steals your lips in a rough, possessive kiss. A sick laugh leaves him when you bite his lip, drawing blood. A metallic taste fills your mouth. Through your hazy sight, you watch with horror as Rafe unbuttons his pants. 

He reaches under your dress, tearing your panties with one tug of his hand. Fear floods your veins. You writhe underneath him as he guides his length to your entrance.

“I think you’re forgetting, angel. You’re nothing without me.” His taunting whisper sears into your skin like a hot knife. “I made you, little Kook princess.”

Your mouth opens, a scream building in your throat. But it never makes its way past your lips, Rafe wrapping his hand around your neck as he impales you on his cock. Helpless whimpers roll off your tongue as he sets an unforgiving pace right away, ignoring each of your tearful pleas for him to stop. His scalding breaths ghost over your face. Beads of sweat drip from his skin to yours. Sobs shake your frame as you writhe beneath him, left with no other choice but to be the vessel for his anger and lust.

“I need you, just like you need me,” he mumbles hotly, trailing bites and kisses alongside your neck. The room dims around you with each painful stab of Rafe’s cock inside your bruised core.

The hand around your neck tightens, Rafe’s wrathful baritone edging on a roar.

“Don’t you ever try to leave me again. I won’t be able to take it, angel. In fact…” His lips skim over your earshell as he whispers, “I’d rather fucking kill you and myself before letting you walk out on me again.”

[lunarjimin]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis - After a long day at work, you come home, still feeling sick and in need of rest. Luckily, your boyfriend knows exactly how to take care of you.

Pairing - boyfriend!jungkook x female reader

Genre - established relationship, unhealthy amount of fluff, very little angst if you squint.

Tags - slice of life, mentions of low-self esteem issues and insecurities, subtle hints of self-loathing, soft!koo hours, oc and jungkook are too altruistic for anyone's liking (but we all love a compassionate couple), jungkook offers oc so much reassurance that it's sickening, mentions of low-key making out, overall oc and jk are full on domestic and adorable.

Word Count - 4.5k

Ratings - PG-13

It's finally the weekend and you huff a big sigh of relief as you unlock the door to your shared apartment with Jungkook, eager to unwind from all the stress work has put you through throughout the week, you head straight to the kitchen to grab some snacks as you are starving.

Typically, your ideal weekend would involve a movie night with Jungkook, but that’s the last thing on your mind since you've been sick for the past few days, leaving you with little to no energy for getting out of bed and facing the day.

Lately, things have been quite stressful for you—not just because you’re sick, but also due to the overwhelming and unpleasant environment at work.

You recall the time your manager belittled you for working at a slower pace on an upcoming project your team was handling. It felt utterly ridiculous because you were putting in your work, even while being sick and getting ridiculed despite your best effort left you feeling irked and resentful of the workplace culture.

This is why you absolutely hate, even despise, the corporate industry: it’s the same everywhere, regardless of your niche. The toxic work culture, the myth of the nine-to-five working hours when you're expected to stay back until half past seven and the fake smiles that mask subtle criticism from coworkers—none of this fools you. Unfortunately, this is the only way to survive in this profession.

You only need to hustle a few more years to achieve some financial stability, after which you can quit your job and invest in the stock market or maybe even start a business of your own. Although the said “few more years” feels like forever, you have no other practical alternative if not for this.

You're a patient person; you credit yourself for that. You might not be as patient as you should be when you travel by conveyance that gets stalled, but you're patient enough to wait a few more years to get stable and resign from your job, huffing out a breath and pushing these thoughts aside as you head to the living room, turning on the television and picking up the show where you last paused.

Settling onto the couch, you exhale, feeling every bit of energy visibly draining away from you, you’re not really proud to admit that you have such a weak immune system even a relatively small flu can leave you feeling completely wiped out (like a mess).

You try to shake your mind off it by focusing on the show you started, reminding yourself that it’s futile to dwell on things you have no control over, especially since there’s nothing that can be done.

As you’re getting cozy on the couch, you hear the soft creak of your front door opening and you don’t really need to look to know who it is.

It's Jungkook, who enters your shared space, removing his shoes and socks, glancing at you from the doorway.He flashes you his typical eye-crinkle smile, which you faintly mirror, while he takes off his coat and hangs it on the nearest rack, you look at him for a moment longer before shifting your attention back to the show."

How was your day?" Jungkook asks, stepping forward and moving to stand right behind you. Gently placing his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you’re feeling any better than you did before, caught off guard by his random gesture, you turn to see him gazing at you with a raised brow, clearly waiting for your response.

“Just the usual—a bit hectic here and there, but on the whole, it was alright I guess.”, you answer with a slight shrug before focusing back on the television.

Humming in response, he notices that your temperature still hasn't dropped down, taking a mental note to prepare you a hot bowl of soup later.

Joining you on the couch, he turns to watch the show you’re occupied with. As you both get snuggly, you instinctively shift closer, resting your head gently on his shoulder.

Jungkook stretches his arm out, giving you more space to get comfortable prompting you to settle against him.Your body feels so calm and relaxed around him, melting in his touch. Oh, how much you could get used to this every day. Everything feels so peaceful and you wish you could stay like this forever, but as the moment stretches, you notice him settling in a bit too comfortably.

"Not going to shower?", the question slips out on impulse, watching him get cozy on the couch. It's not that you mind; matter of fact, you’d love it if he chose to stay with you right after a weary day at work. Still, you think he might need a proper shower to feel renewed.

"Not yet. I just don't feel like taking one right now—maybe later, if you don't mind?" he probes, pulling you into his arms even further so you're almost half-lying down on the couch.

Of course, you wouldn’t mind and you’re certain Jungkook knows that too. You were just a bit concerned since Jungkook is the type who never skips a shower, whether it's after a workout or even just after doing the dishes. He always protests, saying he feels unclean as soon as he finishes any chore.

You just asked out of intrigue.

“Of course I don't mind, Kook. It's just that I'm not used to seeing you rest right after coming home from work, since you usually head straight to the shower,” you state plainly.

“That’s right,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your nape as he continues, “I usually wouldn’t, but I just feel like cuddling with you right now.”

“Well, come to think of it, I don’t think I’m too opposed to the suggestion,” you say, pondering on it while feeling a tickle as he nuzzles deeper into your neck and rests there.

Jungkook looks up at you from where he’s lying and as you lock eyes, you both burst into a fit of laughter, finding the whole scenario amusing.

It feels peaceful like this—just another day with your boyfriend, in your shared space, being all domestic and silly.

Eventually, silence falls over as you both laze in each other's arms, with the only sound in the background being the show running on the television and you find that you’re not really focused on the show anymore; all you can think about is how at ease you feel being curled up next to Jungkook, noticing that he has grown muscles over the week; you can tell by how bulked up his arms feel as they're wrapped around you.

One thing you're more than sure of is that Jungkook is a fitness freak and has always been one. He injects (figuratively) any fancy sport implements he comes across and is always best at what he does.

You don't envy him, although you wish you could be as dedicated to working out as he is, never missing out a single day, but you’re not quite there yet. You only manage to work out on days when you’re not too tired or worn out, which usually falls on weekends.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you feel Jungkook carefully remove his arm from your back, trying not to disturb you, as he gets up and heads to the bedroom. You figure he might have finally decided to take a shower.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

You’re close to dozing off when Jungkook comes back into the living room after a while, dressed in a black oversized tee matched with gray sweats. He looks pretty with his damp hair, water collecting at the ends, threatening to drip.

Lounging on the couch beside you, Jungkook sighs, you guess he must be tired as well. “Are you tired?” you question, noticing the heaviness in his eyes as he leans back.

“Kind of,” he waves off dismissively. At times like this, you wish he weren't so guarded, Jungkook has always been like this, prioritizing his close ones over his happiness and willing to sacrifice his comfort just to please those closest to him.

His compassion often borders on altruism, leading him to put others before himself—a trait well-known to those who know him well (you).

You find this really ironic, particularly coming from you, who parallels Jungkook in certain attributes (altruism being one of them).

All of a sudden, you sense Jungkook sneaking his arm around your side, pulling you in by your waist as his scent hits you—a strong musk with a subtle hint of cinnamon, the fragrance of his cologne, your favorite. You think that you might actually combust this way.

You feel a deep sense of contentment. No matter how chaotic your life can be, Jungkook makes you feel better and helps you keep grounded at the end of the day. This is your home. He's your home and without him, you think that this place would just make for a house, you certainly don't mind lying in his arms, sprawled down with no care, even wishing you could stay like this forever if it meant feeling at home with him.

Maybe it's the intense emotions built up throughout the week taking over you, or perhaps it's the mood swings making you unpredictable, or maybe it's the exhaustion lingering; whatever the feeling is, it feels strangely soothing.

Something about laying in the arms of your lover after a grueling week feels so intimate it's unexplainable. You like it though, making you feel all dizzy.

As you gradually feel exhaustion setting in, you're suddenly jolted by a cough rippling at the back of your throat. Fuck, can’t you just relax in peace? It seems like luck is not on your side right when you try to get cozy with your boyfriend. Perfect, seems like just what you needed.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks, his gaze fixed on the side of your face with concern.

You’re unable to answer him as your cough intensifies struggling to clear your throat, you groan out your response, “I’m fine, just the cold taking a toll on me. Don’t worry, Kook,” voice coming out more groggy than intended as you assure him, though you can tell from the look on his face, that it's clear that he isn’t convinced.

“Kook,” you try again, emphasizing his name, trying to make it clear that you really are fine.

Sighing out long he gives up. “Alright but if I hear you cough one more time, we will take a trip to the doctor.”

“You know I hate swallowing pills, right? I’d get a shot injected rather take those pills,” you whine. Fuck this, why can't you be like your healthy self again?

A trip to the doctor is the last thing you would need right now. You'd rather doze off in your bed with a prolonged flu than swallow the pills you're being prescribed.

You try to calm down, despite still feeling very weak, but that's alright; all you want to do is rest and take it easy and your peace is abruptly stripped away by yet another coughing fit, leaving you struggling to contain it in.

You really don’t want Jungkook worrying over something as trivial as this mild fever, as a result, your eyes start watering the more you try to suppress it and you don't think you can hold it in any longer. Coughing more intensely, you jerk your whole body forward, feeling more frail than ever.

Jungkook looks at your side with an expression which morphs concern as your cough continues, clearly worried about your condition.

This was supposed to be a perfect date night with your boyfriend, but unfortunately, you caught the flu and your body couldn't handle it well and the last thing you would want is for your boyfriend to pity you. Great, it just happens to be your misfortune, isn’t it? Things always turn into mishaps right when you think you're in a better place in life and you hate it.

Warm tears trail down your cheeks before you know it, overwhelmed by the emotions you’ve bottled up all week, breaking down in front of your boyfriend feels downright humiliating. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—everything should have gone well, but somehow, it all took a turn for the worse.

You're unable to stop the full-blown breakdown as you're now sniffling in the middle of the hiccups. It's embarrassing to say the least.

“Hey, look at me,” Jungkook shakes your shoulders to get your attention, but his words go unheard.

“Baby, look at me, please,” he tries again by placing a finger under your chin and lifting it up to make you face him.

As soon as you meet his gaze, you start breaking down, wailing aloud. Why does everything feel so overwhelming?What was supposed to be a relaxing date night has now turned into a disaster.

You're unable to stop from crying when Jungkook pulls you into his embrace as you bury your face in his chest, soaking his fabric with your tears. You can't help it, but he doesn't seem to mind, gently drawing circles on your back, trying to comfort you.

Gradually, you try to calm down as your sobs ease and you gather yourself sniffling in his shirt.

"Are you feeling any better?" Jungkook looks down at you with genuine worry.

Not really having the energy to speak, you quietly hum in response, letting him know that the breakdown left you feeling a bit better.

“Alright, just wait for me here. I'll be right back, okay?” Jungkook says, looking at you, waiting for a response.

“M'kay,” you nod meekly, watching him get up, turn off the barely-watched show and make his way to the kitchen.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧

Jungkook returns after a while with a ladle and a bowl of soup, along with a plate full of air-fried breadsticks, setting them on the living room counter.

Plopping down on the couch, he looks at you, gesturing toward the table near you, “Have some. You’ll feel a lot better,” he mutters, grabbing a breadstick from the plate, and dipping it into the mustard sauce before taking on a bite.

Your gaze softens as you look at him. At moments like this, you feel deeply loved, as if you receive more than you give. Jungkook makes you feel cherished, filling your senses with warmth.

Although, you feel guilty knowing you're making him care for you, even when he's already feeling drained, you're still thankful for him, you realize you're not so different from him. He always puts others' needs before his own, just like you do. Jungkook has always been a big empath, and so have you; maybe that's why you two got emotionally connected—sharing similar interests and values.

You try your best not to burden him with what you see as trivial concerns, but you forget that those who care about you are always willing to help.

You tend to overlook the fact that you are not merely an obligation to your loved ones but instead a priority.

Taking the bowl of soup from the table, you start eating, smiling to yourself because he made your favorite—French onion; you're thankful to have found a man who gives you more than you ever asked for—it feels surreal, but you're not complaining.

Glancing his way, noticing him staring right back at you as you bring the ladle to your mouth, slurping the soup in an obnoxiously loud manner while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Jungkook is the first to look away, bursting into laughter as he finds your actions comical, seeing you mirror his laugh.

You look his way again and speak up, “You want some?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, shaking his head.

“You know that I love you, right?” you question all of a sudden, not really expecting an answer.

“I really do,” you affirm, needing to get it off your chest.You've always been this way—confessing at random times, during random occasions, with words of affirmation as your dominant love language.

“I know and I love you too, you're too precious not to be loved,” he says, smiling cheekily right after confessing.

It warms your heart to know that Jungkook is always there to offer reassurance, whether in subtle or obvious ways. Although you take pride in not seeking external validation, when it comes to Jungkook, even the slightest compliment makes you dizzy and you can’t help but blame him for it.

Shaking your head, smiling to yourself as you dig in with the soup. “You know, I don’t always say this, but I’m really grateful to have you as my partner.”

It's not that you don't express your gratitude for having him as your boyfriend at all, but you don’t say it as often as you think you should. You know that Jungkook needs to hear how thankful you are to have him in your life, just as much as he reassures you whenever you need it the most.

Junkook smiles, his eyes crinkling with sincerity. Humming, he replies, “You know what? I could probably say the same about you.”

You look sharp at him, puzzled as you question, “Probably?”

“Mhm, yeah, probably,” he shrugs as he says, with a hint of mischief.

Carefully reaching your hand down on the couch, fishing and grabbing the nearest object—a heart-shaped cushion—and you aim it right at his face, but he's quick, catching it with a laugh and placing the pillow back down.

Scratching at the back of his nape he laughs at you as he speaks up, “How are you feeling now? Better than before, I hope?”

You can tell that he sounds a bit anxious, unsure if you're really feeling better, you sigh, “A lot better, actually, thanks to you and your bowl of soup,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at him while offering a fake smile.

He chuckles, clearly amused. “I'm seriously asking you, babe. I just hope you're truly more at ease now.”

“What do you think, Kook? Of course, I am. Nothing can happen to me as long as my boyfriend has my back,” you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

He shakes his head, amazed at how quickly you’ve bounced back to your usual self and visibly feels a sense of relief as he lets his shoulders relax. “And now my favourite brat is back,” he states.

“Jungkook!” you scoff as you exclaim, clearly knowing that he's trying to get a reaction out of you by calling you a brat, not that you mind.

Finally finishing the bowl of soup as you place it down the counter, you feel there are things you need to get off your chest—thoughts that have been weighing on you as you try to speak up, “I’m sorry for spoiling your weekend with all this. I know it should have gone as planned, but I’m really so—”

You’re cut off mid-sentence when a sauce-dipped breadstick is suddenly shoved into your mouth as you shriek, bringing your hands to your mouth and wiping off the remains while munching on the piece shoved inside.

“Save it. That apology might come in handy when you accidentally slip up and get ridiculed by your moron of a boss.”

Jungkook always gets bitter when it comes to your job. You've told him multiple times how your manager treats you and your coworkers with no regard for professionalism, which makes him have a sour spot for your boss, often calling him names. Although it’s worth a laugh to hear him call your boss a moron, you're grateful he holds back and doesn’t take it any further.

“I don't like it when you invalidate your feelings like that, Y/N and I’m sure you’re aware of that,” he says, searching for your eyes.

“Yes, our weekend didn’t go as planned, but we’re still able to relax and chill as usual. So, I’m not sure why you feel the need to apologize for something you’re not to blame for,” he lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze and shaking his head. It feels disheartening for him that you feel the need to apologize, believing that you have ruined the night for him.

It’s ironic to see someone as upbeat as you think this way, though he’s no stranger to your struggles with low self-esteem. “You know, I really wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“How so?”, your response comes out weaker than you intended, overwhelmed by the way he looks at you.

He looks your way, amused, doubting that he could ever put it into words, so he chooses to show you instead, just how grateful he truly is. “You really wanna know?”, as he probes, inching closer to you.

You simply nod, unable to find the right words to speak.

Jungkook lowers himself to your level and stops right before your lips are about to touch, looking at you with your eyes closed, waiting for him to make a move. he takes it as consent and gently leans in, brushing his lips against yours, testing the waters before diving in, deepening the kiss with such intensity.

You're quick to move your lips as soon as he finds yours. The intensity of the kiss makes you feel as if you're burning up, not in a fleeting or shallow way, but with a deep, longing passion.

Moving your hands to the back of his head, you twirl your fingers in his hair while kissing in sync—his slightly damp hair feels so soft, almost like a newborn’s and you smile at that thought.

Jungkook is quick to slip his tongue into your mouth as you part your lips and gasp in surprise, as he intertwines with yours kissing you more deeply, his hand curls around your waist locking you in, while the other gently caresses the side of your face, brushing aside the strands of hair that have fallen across it.

You're the first to pull away, placing your hands against his chest to keep him still as you gasp for breath.

Letting go reluctantly, his heavy gaze staying on you while he pants for breath and leans in to steals one last kiss—a soft peck—on your parted lips.

You narrow your brows at him, trying to appear stern, which only makes him just return you a sheepish smile.

“You kind of taste like caramelized onions,” Jungkook breaks the silence, teasing you about the kiss.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim as you physically gasp feigning offence, giggling and playfully shoving him by the chest.

He pouts, sulking at you.

“That’s so mean! Of course, I taste like onions—I just had the soup you made!” you say with a hint of annoyance.

He casually shrugs, cocking a brow.

You can’t help but chuckle, realizing how fond you’ve grown of him over the years, being with Jungkook feels instinctive, like something you’ve become so habitual with.

“You know, I was so concerned for you a while ago when you were constantly coughing,” he brings up.

You smile knowingly, seeing him back to his usual self. “Yeah, I knew, your face said it all.”

“Am I that predictable?” Jungkook asks, knitting his eyebrows with a scrunched nose, looking puzzled.

“Hm, you kind of are. It’s hard for you to hide your expressions,” you reply with a knowing look. “But honestly, I felt bad making you work right after you came home tired. It just made me feel guilty.”

“That���s part of my duty as your boyfriend. There’s no need to feel guilty. I’m more than happy to be here for you and you know that very well Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sincere tone. He’s willing to do anything you ask for and more; deep down, he still feels like he hasn’t done enough for you.

Words can't fully express how grateful you are to the universe for bringing someone like Jungkook into your life. He embodies what it means to be a gentleman and you don't think you can picture yourself with anyone else but him. “I know, but sometimes it's really difficult dealing with my self-worth issues,” you tell him honestly.

“That's exactly why I think you should see yourself through my eyes,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you gently. “You’re everything I could ever want and more, I hope you know that,” he says sincerely as your smile comes off weak.

“It’s hard for me to believe that someone would want me with as much passion as you do, especially when you’re much more good-looking”, you try not to break down as your voice cracks and your throat feels tight talking about such a sensitive topic. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Kook, but it takes everything in me not to bring myself down every single time. It’s really hard dealing with all of my insecurities.”

Jungkook feels devastated hearing this. He’s aware of the issues you’re struggling with but never really realized how deeply rooted they must be, which makes him question his role as your partner as his conscience gnaws at him, filled with the fear of failing to be a better partner for you, knowing how you feel. He knows it’s not entirely his fault, but the guilt simmers inside him, threatening to overflow the more he thinks about it, to him, you deserve the world and so much more.

“I surely understand that; while I might not know exactly how you feel, I get the sense of it babe and I want you to know that I’m here for you—no matter what you need, I'll always be right here.” Jungkook places his hands on either side of your face, drawing you close and gently kissing your forehead.

“Let’s just not focus on this right now, alright? I don’t want you to worry about it too much unless you really want to talk about it?” He looks at you with slight distress, unsure of what you’re thinking. Whatever it is, he hopes you’ll share it, reassuring you that he’ll listen attentively, easing the weight of your feelings.

You nod in agreement, suggesting that you don’t want to discuss this any further, especially not now, after everything you’ve been through this week, you smile instinctively, seeing him look concerned and finding an odd sense of comfort in it.

You know Jungkook well, maybe a little too well than anyone else in his life. While you might normally share your concerns with him, you’d rather let it be and take some time to rest now.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate his support, but you’re simply not in the mood to talk about it right now, although his ways of reassurance always feel the best, making you want to listen to him even more.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this kind of sense of belonging with anyone before. It feels like everything has fallen into place just as you’ve always wanted, despite the chaos in your life.

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks, seeing you lost in your thoughts.

You pause for a moment, staring at him unsure what to say as you blink swiftly, taking a deep breath letting out a sigh.

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” you utter, as you stretch and yawn involuntarily, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Right, I’m tired too. Let’s just cuddle like this for a while, yeah?” Jungkook mumbles as he pulls you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder and gradually closing his eyes.

You smile as you nod, feeling him move closer to your neck and place a gentle kiss as you let your body relax, you feel so safe like this, with his soft breaths calming your nerves. At moments like these, all your worries seem to fade away.

Maybe getting sick doesn’t seem so bad if Jungkook is the one taking care of you. Eventually, it’s only with him that you feel safe and at home, he's your sanctuary at the end of the day.

A/N : It's officially my first fan-fiction? ficlet or drabble? whatever you guys name it! although as much as i'm excited to publish this, i'm equally nervous too and forgive me if there are any errors cause i didn't proofread it. I would really appreciate any feedback or comments about my work, hope you guys had a good read <3 xox.

tmi: this piece of work was purely self-indulgence until it wasn't when I decided to turn it into an actual fiction, even though this basically lacks any plot and the struggle it took for me to figure out how this blog works is a rant for another day (😭).

[fatecantstopme]

I Can't Walk Away

Pairing: Nick Amaro x plus size!reader

Summary: When you and your boyfriend break up, you're faced with the seemingly impossible task of putting yourself back together. Luckily for you, your very handsome coworker is more than happy to help along the way.

Warnings: Body image issues, low self-esteem, mentions of toxic/abusive relationships, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, light dom/sub vibes, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V).

A/N: This was entirely self-indulgent and I have no regrets.

Spanish Translations:

Querida: sweetheart/darling

Hermosa: beautiful

Mierda: shit

Por favor: please

Si: yes

All other translations will be after the sentence in brackets/italics.

You dropped onto Olivia's couch with a huff, tears still threatening to break through your stubborn facade.

"Are we gonna talk about it or do I need to have someone beat him up?" Liv asked you, a small smirk gracing her face.

"As much as I'd love to see his ass get handed to him, I think we should avoid committing any crimes," you said lightly.

Olivia sighed softly and reached over to put her arm around you. You leaned into her shoulder and began to let your guard drop. Olivia had been your best friend for over a decade now, your time working together in SVU having brought you closer than you could have imagined.

"He was an asshole, (Y/N/N)," she said softly. "You deserve better."

"You say that, but I guess I just don't believe it," you muttered.

It nearly broke her heart to hear you speak so negatively of yourself, but she knew no matter how many uplifting words she spoke, you would still refuse to believe her.

"Maybe there's something wrong with me," you whispered, tears finally beginning to fall. "Maybe I'm broken--unloveable."

"Hey," she chided. "You are so many things, (Y/N), but broken and unloveable are not among them."

She tightened her grip on you, pulling you into a proper side hug. She let you cry into her shoulder, her own heart breaking along with yours.

You knew, objectively, she was right--your now-ex was indeed an asshole. He'd never treated you well and had often put you down and made you feel terrible about yourself. Your self-esteem had been lower than usual when you met him and in the 6 months you'd been together, he'd managed to destroy whatever vestige of self-love you had left.

There wasn't a single thing about you he didn't belittle. Whether it was your physical appearance, your career, your hobbies, your dreams...he made you feel like everything you ever did was a mistake. In his estimation, you were too fat, unintelligent, boring...and your choice in career was just about the worst thing you could do.

You'd made it your mission in life to help the victims of particularly heinous crimes, which is why you'd been working at SVU for almost 12 years. You were the squad's forensic psychologist, and you loved your work. In many respects, it was the one thing that really brought joy to your life. It was your greatest passion--and the amount of time you spent at work certainly showed it.

Yet during those 6 months with him...your love for the job had begun to wane. Every time you'd stay late or have to cancel a date, he'd berate you for it--mocking your job and your inability to 'be a real person'. Now that you'd finally taken the leap and broken up with him, you were hopeful you could fall back in love with your work.

In this moment, however, all you could think about were the horrible things he'd said to you when you told him you wanted to break up. He'd been especially cruel, calling out every physical insecurity you had and making you feel like an absolute pile of human garbage. He'd called you fat, ugly, unloveable, gross...and a million other things you couldn't bear to repeat.

You weren't thin--you knew that, but you weren't gross. That was just offensive. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first ex to make comments about your weight--something you'd been struggling with for most of your adult life. The words had hit you harder than you'd expected, making you actually think he might be right...maybe you were the problem.

Olivia's voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

You just nodded, not trusting your voice to answer her properly.

She squeezed you a little tighter, her reassuring presence grounding you in ways you desperately needed. You were always thankful for her friendship, but it was moments like this where you were reminded how much she really meant to you.

**********

You'd spent most of the weekend at Olivia's and by the time Monday rolled around, you were feeling a little bit better. She always knew what to do and say to make everything okay. It was a gift you'd always envied and appreciated.

It was very typical of you to be the first person in the office, having been an early riser most of your life. So you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the precinct Monday morning and spotted Nick Amaro sitting at his desk.

"You're in early," you commented lightly in lieu of greeting.

He turned his gaze to look over at you and shot you a disarming smile. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get a head start on some paperwork I've been putting off."

"Wise man. Wouldn't want to upset the boss."

He grinned. "She's strict." His voice was teasing and warm and it made you feel something in your gut you always tried to ignore.

In truth, you were extremely attracted to Nick--it was undeniable. You had not, nor would you ever, tell him or act on it. Nick was so far out of your league it wasn't even funny. Besides, he was newly single, still fresh from his divorce.

"She can be calmed with good coffee and blueberry muffins," you said conspiratorially.

Nick chuckled. "I'm gonna have to write that down."

You offered him a smile before continuing past him to your office. You were surprised when his voice stopped you after a few steps.

"How was your weekend?"

You turned back to face him. "Friday was absolute shit," you said honestly. "But I spent Saturday and part of yesterday with Liv, so it's better now."

A look of concern crossed his face. "Everything okay?"

You feigned a smile. "Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you skeptically. "Is it that guy again?"

Your cheeks darkened, embarrassed Nick even knew about your ex. "We broke up."

Nick almost looked relieved. "I would say sorry, but it wouldn't be honest. I never liked the guy--he didn't treat you right."

You were surprised he paid enough attention to the things you said to know just how badly your ex had treated you. "Oh?"

Nick stood up and took a couple steps closer to you. He was still a professional distance away, but he could speak quieter so only you could hear him.

"You deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You're an amazing woman, (Y/N), and a good man would never treat you the way he did. He clearly didn't recognize your worth."

His words slammed into you with surprising force. "I-um-thank you," you muttered softly.

"You can thank me by dating a man who will love you the way you deserve," he said lowly. "Como una reina." [Like a queen.]

His last three words were so quiet you weren't even sure you'd heard him properly--or if you were supposed to hear them at all. You weren't fluent in Spanish by any means, but you understood the basics...enough to know he'd said something about a queen. That is, if you heard him correctly.

You were about to ask him to elaborate when Olivia came into the squad room. She sent a warm smile your way and issued greetings to both you and Nick. Her arrival broke whatever spell Nick had been under, and he went back to his desk quietly.

You went into your office, leaving the door open behind you so you could hear the goings on and the arrival of the rest of the squad. There were plenty of things for you to do, but you couldn't get Nick's words out of your head.

**********

Olivia looked up from her computer when Nick knocked on the doorframe entering her office.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile.

He came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Uh-oh...closed door conversation? Everything okay?"

"With me, yes," he answered. "But I wanted to ask you something and I don't want anyone overhearing."

"Okay..."

"It's about (Y/N)."

Olivia raised her eyebrows. "What about her?"

"She mentioned she'd spent the weekend with you and she and that asshole broke up."

Olivia chuckled softly, glad to hear she wasn't the only one who hated your ex.

"I know it's not really my business, but I can tell something is really upsetting her. Hell, I've noticed a change in her since the moment they started dating--and not in a good way."

"He isn't a good person," Olivia conceded.

"Tell me about it," Nick muttered. "Anyway, I just--well, I just want to know if she's okay? I mean, really okay."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I did, but I know she wasn't being honest with me."

Olivia sighed. She had a feeling he was asking about you for a reason, but she wasn't sure it was her place to tell him the truth. She was torn between being honest with her partner and keeping her best friend's pain to herself.

"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but he did say some particularly cruel things about her when she broke up with him."

Nick's eyes narrowed and Olivia could see the anger flare in them. "What did he say to her?" Even his voice was laced with fury--the mere idea someone would hurt you sent him off the edge.

"I can't tell you," Olivia answered. "But if you really want to know, then I think you should talk to her. She trusts you, so she may open up to you."

Nick nodded, anger still boiling beneath the surface. "You're right--I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

Olivia shook her head. "It's alright. I know you care about her...I guess I'm just a little surprised by your anger."

He winced slightly, feeling embarrassed for his display of emotion. "I don't like the idea of some guy making her feel like shit."

"Neither do I," she said honestly. "I am curious though...what made you ask about her?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

Olivia smiled slowly. "I mean, why do you want to know badly enough to ask me?"

Nick had a feeling Olivia could see right through him--they'd been partners for a few years after all. He wasn't sure how to answer--or if he wanted to be entirely truthful. In the end, he opted for vague honesty. "I care about her."

Olivia watched his expression in silence for a long moment before responding. "So do I."

Nick could see the meaning behind her words as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud--don't hurt my friend. He didn't say it, but he hoped Olivia knew he would never hurt you...it would break his heart.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N). You busy?"

You looked up to see Nick standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame. You swallowed thickly as you pushed down the improper thoughts blazing through your mind at the sight.

"Uh--no. What's up?"

He stepped into the room, edging closer to your desk. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. My treat."

You raised your eyebrows at him, unsure of the cause of his request. "Is there some sort of celebration I'm unaware of?"

He chuckled lightly. "Other than your new-found freedom, no. I just...well, I wanted to spend a little time with you. Ya know, if you want."

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated his offer. "Well, I don't have any other plans, so why not?"

He grinned. "Excellent. Do you want time to go home first or just leave from here?"

You looked down at your outfit, suddenly feeling very frumpy and unattractive. You knew he wasn't asking you out on a date--just a friend inviting you to dinner to cheer you up. Even still, you really didn't want to go out looking like this. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"Not at all. I can pick you up from your place, if you'd like?"

"Oh, uh-yeah. Sure."

He smiled again. "Perfect. 6:30?"

You nodded. "Sounds good."

You watched him walk out of your office, mind racing as you tried to figure out his motivations and what the hell you were gonna wear.

**********

By the time 6pm rolled around, you'd managed to change your clothes somewhere in the realm of 50 times, and you still weren't entirely satisfied. Even your favorite outfit didn't feel right--you could hear your ex's voice in the back of your mind telling you everything you tried on looked bad.

You dug further into your closet, looking for something simple--cover the things you wanna hide and accentuate the things you wanna show off. Your eyes fell on a beautiful black dress you'd actually never worn. You'd purchased it on a whim because you'd loved it in the store and Olivia had insisted it was too perfect to pass up on.

You pulled the dress off the hanger and put it on, pleased it still fit properly. When you turned to look in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself--you actually felt pretty. The bodice of the dress was tight, but the lower half was flowy. The material was a soft, stretch satin, with a low neckline and flutter sleeves. The dress hit right above your knees and it practically screamed for a pair of heels.

You found your favorite black pumps, slipping them on and smiling at your reflection. You put on some jewelry to spice up the look, sprayed your favorite perfume, and double checked your hair and makeup one last time. You didn't wear much makeup on the daily, so you didn't go too wild with your makeup for the evening. You'd added some eyeliner and lipstick, but otherwise you looked natural. You'd actually been having a good hair day already, so you were pleased to see it was still behaving properly.

You'd just put the last finishing touches on the outfit when you heard the buzzer ring. You quickly went to answer it, and upon hearing Nick's voice, told him you'd be right down.

You took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs feeling both excited and trepidatious. You reminded yourself once again this was just two friends having dinner--purely platonic...but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want it to be an actual date.

Nick was waiting just outside the front entrance to your apartment building, and he turned around when he heard the door open. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on his face when he saw you.

"Santa mierda," he breathed. "You look incredible." [Holy shit.]

You blushed and looked away. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

He stepped towards you and gently touched your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. "You're very welcome."

He dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed fixed on your face for a long moment. "Do you like Italian?" he asked.

"Of course," you answered, silently pleased your voice sounded normal.

"Excellent." He gestured towards his car and you followed behind him. He opened the passenger door and helped you in before getting in the driver's seat.

The drive wasn't very long, and your nerves kept you quiet for most of the ride. You listened to him chatter on about nothing, simply enjoying the sound of his voice.

When you arrived at the restaurant, he once again opened your door and helped you out, but this time his hand didn't leave yours. He placed your hand through the loop he'd made with his arm and guided you to the entrance.

Once you were seated, your nerves began to ratchet up even higher. Unfortunately for you, Nick was both an extremely good detective and an annoyingly perceptive person. As such, he noticed your discomfort immediately.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"It's just me, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

You exhaled slowly--realizing he was right. It was Nick for God's sake. He was your colleague, your friend. There was no reason to be nervous. "You're right."

He smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. He pulled it back to his side of the table as the server arrived for your drink order.

You were grateful for the glass of wine he delivered moments later, lifting it to your lips almost immediately. You knew the liquid would calm your nerves--maybe then you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me," Nick said softly as he sipped his own glass of wine.

"I was a little surprised, in all honesty."

"That I asked or that you agreed?" he teased lightly.

You smiled. "Definitely the former."

"I hate seeing you upset," he admitted. "I thought I might be able to cheer you up a little."

"Thanks, Nick. You're a good friend."

His face fell slightly, but he quickly hid it behind a soft smile. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Whatever he was going to ask was cut off by the arrival of the server to take your food order.

As soon as the server left the table, Nick leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What did he say to you that hurt you so much?"

"What?"

"Your ex."

Your expression shifted and you looked down at the table. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because whatever he said hurt you--and I'm willing to bet my career that he was wrong."

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his. His expression was deadly serious, yet it somehow put you at ease in a way only Nick could. "He said some unpleasant things about my physical appearance that I could have lived without hearing."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "Unpleasant things about your appearance? I'll bet my life he was wrong."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't make that bet, Nick."

"I'm confident. Tell me what he said and I'll judge for myself."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before giving him a quick overview. "Essentially he said I'm unattractive and fat--I recall the word 'gross' being used as well."

Nick's temper flared instantly, the urge to punch that son of a bitch in the face nearly overwhelming. "He said what?"

Even if you didn't know Nick, you would have been able to see the rage simmering in his eyes, hear it in his tone. "It's not a big deal."

"If he was here, I'd launch him through a window. Bastard."

"I'm okay," you reassured him quietly.

Your soft voice grounded him, as it so often did, and he felt his anger dissipating. He was still angry, but the urge to hunt that asshole down had begun to fade.

"He was wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

"He was wrong. Not only are you one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, but your body is perfectly proportioned--deliciously soft and curvy. You're about as far from gross as a human being can be."

He spoke with such conviction, such assuredness, that you almost believed him--almost.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Nick, you've never seen me naked...your opinion would change, trust me."

Nick's eyes flared with a new kind of intensity. "I highly doubt that."

"His did," you said quietly.

"He clearly didn't know what he had."

Your eyes met his, shoulders tense, discomfort obvious in every movement you made.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me--I think you're gorgeous. Stunning. Elegante. Sin fin perfecta." [Elegant. Endlessly perfect.] He reached for your hand and you let him take it in his. "You are a prize, (Y/N). Any man worth a damn would be honored to call you his."

You didn't know what to say. His words surprised you and warmed your soul at the same time. You could also feel the familiar tightening in your gut, accompanied by an entire swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Forget every terrible thing he ever said to you, hermosa. Let me fill your mind with praise. Let me remind you of your beauty, inside and out, of your brilliance, of your kindness, your empathy...of all the little things that make you the incredible woman you are."

"Nick..." you whispered, his name the only coherent thing you were able to utter.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of your food. You'd been hungry when you sat down at the table, but your body was now flooded with a very different kind of hunger--a hunger you now believed Nick shared.

"Thank you, Nick," you said softly. "I know it's not nearly enough, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I meant every word."

You gave him a small smile. "Still..."

He returned the expression.

The two of you ate in silence for several minutes, minds clearly elsewhere. After a while, Nick noticed you'd done more moving the food around the plate than actually eating and he called you out on it.

"Eat your food, querida. You'll need your strength."

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his gaze. "For what?"

He leaned forward. "If you'll let me, I'm going to spend several hours showing you exactly how sexy I think you are."

You gulped. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

He grinned wolfishly. "By worshipping that amazing body of yours...over and over again, until you're screaming my name."

You suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, let alone eat. Nick, on the other hand, went right back to eating his food as if he hadn't just threatened you with an incredibly good time.

You had to force yourself to focus on your food, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

As soon as the meal was over, Nick asked for the check and paid, revealing just how desperate he was to get back to your place.

Once again, he helped you into the car, only this time his hand lingered on the small of your back.

Anticipation flooded through you as Nick drove through the streets of the city. You'd wanted him for so long--never once thinking he'd reciprocate the desire. Despite his words earlier in the evening, you still felt a shred of self-doubt...worrying he might not find you as attractive once you were naked.

"Where's that pretty head at, querida?" he asked softly, noticing your anxiety.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Of course."

"If you don't want to go through with this...you know, when you see me without my clothes on...please just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something you don't wanna do."

He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. "I don't have to promise that because I know what I want, (Y/N)...and that's you. You could be a alien underneath those clothes and I'd still want you."

You laughed lightly. "I promise I'm not an alien."

He grinned. "Then we're gonna be just fine, baby."

You closed your eyes, silently willing yourself to believe him. You trusted him with your life--something you'd never experienced with any of your past relationships. Every fiber of your being told you Nick would never hurt you on purpose--never. You just needed to trust him--let go of your pain and give in to your desires.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Nick gave you a gentle reminder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, (Y/N)."

"I want to," you whispered.

He inhaled slowly and took a step towards you. "Say 'no' or 'stop' and I'll stop immediately, okay? No hard feelings--I won't push you."

"I don't want to say no, Nick."

He took another step towards you, effectively backing you against the wall. "If you wanna stop--"

"Nick, please just kiss me," you begged softly.

He groaned softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours. His kiss was like fire and ice--more addictive than any drug known to man. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe--like he would rather suffocate to death than stop.

He pressed his warm body against yours, wedging his knee between your thighs to keep you from squeezing them together. His tongue tangled with yours, quickly asserting dominance as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands went to the buttons on his white button down, quickly undoing them in a desperate need to feel his skin. He helped you remove the shirt, followed by his undershirt, leaving his toned chest bare for you to see.

You bit your lip and stifled a soft groan as you appreciated his form.

"You can touch me, querida," he said softly. "I wanna feel your soft hands on my skin."

You did as he asked, hands gliding over his smooth, tan skin. He sighed softly and leaned into your touch, lips grazing your jaw affectionately.

Your hands traveled to his hips and you began to loosen his belt. He allowed you to unbutton his pants and he helped you remove them.

"I think you're a bit overdressed for the occasion, hermosa," he teased huskily.

You tensed slightly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

Of course, Nick felt it and instantly began to sooth your worries. "You can keep on as much as you want, querida, but I want to see you. I've wanted to touch you like this since the day I met you. But if you're more comfortable keeping your clothes on, that's alright."

You looked up at him, his dark eyes warm and honest. You took a deep breath and pushed him back slightly, giving yourself the room to pull your dress off over your head.

You dropped your dress to the ground, but your eyes didn't meet his gaze--you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his face, too afraid of what you might see there.

"Querida, por favor," Nick whispered. "Look at me."

You looked up at him slowly, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you took in his hungry expression.

"I wanna kiss every square inch of your beautiful body, hermosa. Will you let me?"

You nodded tentatively.

"I need to hear you say it, baby," he pleaded.

"I want you Nick, please."

He groaned and pressed his body against yours again. "Say that again, querida."

"I want you," you whispered.

"Fuck--" He slammed his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth almost immediately. You melted in his arms, reveling in the feeling of his body against yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath, but his hands didn't leave your body. Now that he'd touched you so intimately, he never wanted to stop.

"Come with me," he whispered, before guiding you to your bedroom. "Lay down on the bed for me, querida."

You did as he asked, noticing how his eyes never left your body.

He made sure you were looking at him before he began to lower his boxer briefs, slowly revealing his large cock. He was already painfully hard, a bead of precum lingering at the tip.

You licked your lips in anticipation, an action he noticed with pride.

"Like what you see, hermosa?"

"Very much so."

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, covering your soft body with his hard one. "May I take off your bra?"

You nodded.

"Baby..." he said in a clear warning tone.

You understood his meaning instantly, a flood of arousal going straight to your core at the order. "Yes, papi."

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised and pleased at your use of the title. "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

A soft moan left your lips at the praise and he smiled to himself, pleased he was able to suss out what you liked.

His hand snaked around your back, deftly unclasping your bra with surprising ease. The moment your breasts were bared to his gaze, his mouth descended on you, taking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You moaned softly, fingers intertwining into his dark locks. His lips and hands massaged your breasts, giving them equal attention. True to his word, he moved tantalizingly slowly down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could, while avoiding where you needed him most.

By the time he made his way back up to your face, you were begging him to touch your pussy--pleading for some relief.

"Nick, please--I need you."

"What did you call me?" he asked harshly.

Your eyes widened lustfully. "I'm sorry, papi!"

He smiled, ghosting his fingers across your still-clothed pussy. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the feather-light touches he placed to your mound, desperate for more. "Please, papi."

"Hmm? Qué deseas?" [What do you want?]

"Please touch me," you begged.

"I am touching you, querida."

"More, papi. Please!"

He smiled. "Normally I'd take my time teasing you--making you beg for what you want...but if I'm being honest, I'm as desperate to touch you as you are to feel it, so I'll be nice to you this time."

He tugged your panties off quickly before spreading your thighs as wide as he could, revealing your dripping wet folds.

"All this for me, baby?" he growled.

"Only you, papi," you responded.

"Yeah? No one else makes you this wet?"

You shook your head vehemently. "No one else."

"Now I have one rule, hermosa. I wanna hear you--every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth. Be as loud as you want. Entiendes?" [Understand?]

"Si, papi," you whimpered.

He smirked as he lowered himself down onto the bed between your legs. His strong hands gripped your hips and he tugged you as close to his face as he could before diving into your pussy with a deep groan of pleasure.

You gasped at the sensation, the sound quickly becoming moans of enjoyment. Nick was quite skilled with his mouth--his tongue alone made you feel things you'd never before experienced.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at the roots as you desperately sought your release.

Nick held you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy, ensuring he had complete control over your pleasure.

"Feels so good," you gasped. "Gonna cum, papi."

He groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He could feel how close you were by the way your thighs tried to close and your grip on his hair tightened.

Your moans became more desperate--needy, and he slid two fingers into your pussy, gently pressing into your g-spot rapidly.

You cried out, legs shaking slightly, seconds before your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. His name left your lips in a gasped scream as he worked you through your high, only stopping when you began to squirm away.

You were completely breathless when he lifted his head, mouth and chin soaked in your juices. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his hand, licking it clean as he maintained eye contact with you. "You taste so good baby...I can't get enough."

You reached for him and he obliged, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, a soft sound of pleasure escaping into his mouth.

"Querida," he whispered against your lips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," you whimpered.

"Do you have protection?"

"I'm on the pill..."

"I'm clean," he assured you.

"Me too."

He lined his cock up with your entrance and looked back up at your face. "Are you sure, hermosa?"

"Si papi. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned softly before thrusting into you, sheathing himself fully inside of you in one swift movement.

You cried out, the stretch both overwhelming and extremely pleasurable all at once. You clutched his neck and he breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

"You can move," you whispered.

"Not yet, querida. I need a moment."

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern.

"Your pussy feels so damn incredible, baby...I'm just trying to control myself so I don't hurt you."

You bit your lip and lifted his face up to look at you. "I like a little bit of pain, papi." You clenched your pussy tightly for emphasis.

"Mierda," he ground out. "You sure?"

"Fuck me senseless, Nick. Por favor."

As much as he loved you calling him 'papi', hearing you say his name like that made him feral. He pulled out and thrust back in harshly, starting a fast, hard pace.

"Baby, say my name again," he begged.

"Nick," you moaned lowly.

"Fuck." He was fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do and you'd never experienced anything like it.

You felt the coil tightening in your abdomen, and for the first time in your life, you knew you were going to cum during penetration. Your moans were loud enough to wake the neighbors, your nails dug into his muscular back, and your pussy had his cock in a vice grip.

"You gonna cum for me, (Y/N)?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to voice a response. The only thing coming out of your mouth was a string of incoherent moans and pleas.

"I wanna feel you cum, baby. Cubre mi polla." [Coat my cock.]

"Nick!" you whined.

"What do you need, querida? Tell me."

"More," you whimpered.

He slipped his hand between your bodies and began to gently massage your clit. "This what you need, baby?"

"Nick!" you screamed. "Don't stop!"

"That's it, baby. That's it. I've got you. Cum for me, querida. Ven por mí." [Come for me.]

You cried out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed your senses. You clung to him desperately, as if he was a life raft while you were adrift in the ocean.

He began to chase his own high as you came down, your awareness coming back to you. His thrusts were fast and rough, his breathing ragged.

"I want you to cum for me, papi. Fill me up," you begged.

"Dios mio! You feel so good, baby. Wanna cum for you."

You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could, desperate for him to enjoy this as much as you did.

"(Y/N)!" he cried out as he came, his hot seed filling you up.

His thrusts slowed and faltered before he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and satiated.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath. You were a little worried he would regret this now that it was over, but your fears were assuaged the moment he lifted his head to look at you.

His beautiful brown eyes were warm and loving as he gazed at you, happiness and contentment clear in his expression. "That was incredible," he murmured softly.

You blushed slightly. "You were incredible."

"As were you, querida."

He pressed his lips to yours as he pulled himself up. He rolled onto his side and pulled you with him, so your head rested against his chest.

"I'm thinking we take a power nap, then we go for round two," Nick said softly.

"Round two?!"

He grinned. "I did promise you I was gonna worship this sexy body of yours for hours."

"I didn't think you were serious, Nick," you said with a chuckle.

"Oh, baby, I'm always serious about worshipping you. I think you'll learn that very quickly."

You smiled and kissed his chest softly. You debated whether you wanted to voice the question that popped into your head, but once again, Nick beat you to it.

"You know this isn't a one time thing, right?" Nick asked gently. "I mean, unless you want it to be."

You looked up at him, expression soft and affectionate. "I was actually just going to ask you that."

He grinned. "So...you saying you might wanna see me again?"

"I see you every day, Nick," you teased.

"I mean like this, hermosa. Naked in your bed, making you scream my name, giving you as much pleasure as your pretty little body will take."

Your breath hitched in your chest, giving away just how badly you wanted that. "That too."

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "If I'm lucky, you'll let me take you out more too. Dinner, dancing, walks in the park, musicals...whatever you want. Wherever you go, I want to be there too."

Your eyes widened in surprise and tears filled them. You'd never had someone speak to you the way Nick did, let alone want to be with you in the way he just described.

"Querida," he whispered as he wiped your eyes. "Don't cry."

"Tears of joy," you assured him. "I promise."

His expression warmed, filling with the love and admiration he clearly felt for you. "So you'll be mine then? Exclusively?"

Your lips parted and you smiled. "I would love that."

He smiled back. "Thank god...because whether you knew it or not, I've been yours exclusively for the past year."

"What?"

He blushed slightly. "I...well I've wanted to be with you since my marriage fell apart, but I didn't want you to think you were some kind of rebound, so I kept myself professional. It's gotten harder and harder to do and then seeing you dating someone who treated you so terribly knowing full-well I would die for you made it nearly impossible."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I went to great lengths to make sure of that," Nick said softly. "But now that I have you? Now that I know what it's like to touch you, hold you, kiss you, make love to you? Baby, I can't walk away. You're stuck with me."

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, straddling his strong body. You leaned down to kiss him softly, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with, Nick Amaro," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with as much passion as he could muster. He was determined to spend every minute of the rest of his life making sure you knew how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you, and how madly in love with you he would always be.

[stargirlinterludefr]

ENOUGH FOR YOU: former rafe cameron x reader, jj maybank x reader (part 2 of this)

Based off of the song enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: All you ever wanted was to be enough for Rafe but you realise he could never accept that, someone else can love you the way you deserve though.

TW: mentions of a previous toxic relationship, mentions of drug usage (cocaine), emotional manipulation, angst, fluff, addiction, Rafe being a dick, JJ being his loving self, happy ending (for the reader.)

Word count: Around 3,400

Notes: I’m not as fond as this one but I promised part two and I shall deliver!

I wore makeup when we dated

'Cause I thought you'd like me more

If I looked like the other prom queens

I know that you loved before

The month after you’re split from Rafe was a blur, while you’d felt more freer than you had in over a year you still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt on your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t quite deduce.

However, falling back into stride with the pogues had made things one million times easier. They were like a warm blanket waiting for you after a long day, ready to wrap you up and protect you from the cold. The cold being Rafe.

None of them realised the deep extent to his manipulation of you, the way he’d twisted you into someone so unrecognisable and fragile had them feeling devastatingly remorseful.

Particular everyday instances is where Rafe really shines through in your actions, and the thought had JJ feeling nauseous.

Both you and the Maybank boy are sat on the dock at the Chateau, your legs dangling from the side of the wood as he watches you, his eyes catching onto the hints of makeup lingering on your skin.

“Why’re you wearin’ makeup, mama? It’s like fifty degrees out.” The boy states, his voice airy and joking but it makes your stomach drop slightly as you shrug.

“Force of habit, I guess.” You mumble with a small smile, bringing your knees to your chest as you lay your chin on them.

JJ ponders for a moment, quelling over his previous question and what he would say next to ensure he wouldn’t say the wrong thing. Before Rafe, you hardly wore makeup, you’d wear a small amount sure but it was rarely noticeable and JJ had always thought you looked so entrancing without it but when Rafe cooped you up in his little toxic nest…he doesn’t think he’s seen you go without.

“You know you don’t need it, right? You’re like, the most beautiful girl on the island.” He states, gently nudging your shoulder so you’d look at him “Don’t be tellin’ Kie I said that, she’ll be gettin’ all jealous.” The boy jokes and you give him a gentle smile to which he returns immediately.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked

Just for you to say you're not the compliment type

One week into your breakup had you looking through old text messages, while you know you shouldn’t, something about looking upon the way Rafe treated you when you were no longer under his thumb gave you a entirely new perspective.

A specific chain of messages has you slowing your scrolling to intently read them.

You: *attached one image*

You: what do you think of this new dress I got?

You let out a scoff at the sight of the dress, mind whirring now at how kooky it looked fitted onto your figure.

Rafe: it’s a dress?

You: that’s it??

Rafe: idk what u expect i don’t do compliments babe

Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, you place your phone down and stare up at the ceiling of John B’s bedroom.

You remembered wearing that dress to a party the night after showing him it, feeling completely out of place, like a prized calf dressed up for auction.

And he’d still never complimented you, even when you looked like his picture perfect type.

And I knew how you took your coffee

And your favorite songs by heart

I read all of your self-help books

So you'd think that I was smart

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave

Officially going out into the outer banks after the breakup took additional encouragement from your friends, you’d been to and from homes but you’d not dared to venture into the town.

Somehow, Pope and Kiara had convinced you to accompany them to a cafe near figure eight as they had quote on quote ‘the best coffee on the island’

You hadn’t considered that you might run the risk of falling into old habits as soon as you walked through the doors.

“What’re you guys fancying?” Kiara quotes in a mock english accent, Pope rolling his eyes at the girl as you snort.

“I’m fancying the idea that you never do that again.” Pope quirks back, earning a frown from Kiara who sarcastically placed her hand to her chest.

“Come on guys, it’s on me.” She notes, looking up at the board of differing coffees as you reply.

“Uh, just a black coffee for me.” You say absentmindedly, swinging on your heels, both Pope and Kie’s heads turning to you making you laugh nervously.

“What? Have my tits fallen out or something? Why’re you looking at me like I just committed a hate crime?” You blurt, eyes darting between them both as Kiara’s face twists slightly.

“You hate black coffee.” She says, ensuring to pronunciation the word ‘hate.’

Pope nods in agreement before adding to her statement, “Yeah, I mean, John B and JJ gave you it as a joke once just after you’d woken up and you literally threw the mug at their heads.”

You look to the floor, picking on the skin of your arm slightly as you shrug and before you can even come up with a lie to explain why you’d had a change of heart toward the drink Kiara speaks up again.

“It’s not you that likes it, is it? It’s Rafe.” You don’t notice the way she and Pope lock eyes, a look of pure anger washing over the Heyward boys face.

You feel stupid, stood there ordering Rafe’s order for yourself, if he were here he’d attempt to joke that you were obsessive and proceed to call you emotional when you had the reaction you were having now.

“Screw that asshole, we’re getting you a…Caramel Cappuccino!” She exclaims, linking her arm with yours as she looks up at the board, “And then we’re going to torch everything you still have of Rafe’s.”

You don’t bother to protest with her, a small grateful smile making its way to your lips.

You found someone more exciting

The next second, you were gone

And you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong

And you always say I'm never satisfied

But I don't think that's true

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

And all I ever wanted was to be enough for you

Your phone is blowing up again, a loud groan sounding from beside you as you stare down at the device.

“Is that Rafe again?” JJ grumbled, gesturing for you to show him what Rafe is sending but you hand him your phone instead, the boy immediately begins to shake his head as he reads the chain of messages your ex has sent.

“Can the dude not get a hint?” He mutters, eyes flicking to you as your head falls back onto the sofa.

You zone out for a few moments but your brought back by the sound of JJ’s loud scoff, he’d clearly been reading more of the end laugh gif messages Rafe loved to leave you daily.

“The fuck does he mean you’re never satisfied with what he gave you? That asshole never did shit apart from manipulate and-“ Before he can finish, you’re gently taking the phone from his hold and placing it beside you as you look back to him.

“And that’s what he’s still tryna do, Jay, he says I’m never satisfied but like did he see the amount of chicks he was flirting with at parties? And he has the audacity to say I’m never satisfied?” You ramble, letting out a scoff at the end as JJ stares at you intently and you wait for a moment, for him to interrupt…to tell you to stop yapping, to stop being annoying but he never does so you continue.

And maybe I'm just not as interesting

As the girls you had before

But God, you couldn't have cared less

About someone who loved you more

I'd say you broke my heart

But you broke much more than that

Now I don't want your sympathy

I just want myself back

Walking through figure eight without Rafe feels like an out of body experience for you, as though it wasn’t plausible to actually be without him around here.

Sarah, Cleo and Kiara walk alongside you. The four of you on a small venture to Sarah’s home to get some of her clothes as you’d planned an all girls sleepover at Kiara’s home, allowing the boys to run rampage at the Chateau.

Plus, the girls had been dying to do so ever since you’d officially rekindled with them.

What they didn’t want to do, was to put you through the trauma of seeing Rafe but you’d assured them you were fine going to Tannyhill as long as you were surrounded by them and Sarah had assured you that Rafe was out. He apparently hadn’t been home often since your split.

As you walk through the gate at the front of the mansion, you feel your body riddle itself with anxiety almost immediately making you swallow harshly.

“You okay, girl?” Cleo asks, grasping your hand in her own as Sarah and Kie come to a stop infront of you.

“Yeah I’m good, I just…” you trail off, eyes floating toward Sarah who smiles in understanding.

“You don’t have to come in, me and Kie can just run inside and grab a few things.” She says softly, eyes achingly kind and your mind whirrs back to the conversation you’d had outside of Tannyhill only a few months prior.

You shake you head, “It’s okay, I can just-“ You cut yourself off as your eyes trail upward and to the all too familiar balcony at the front of the mansion where your eyes catch onto a figure.

Rafe is watching the four of your intently, his eyes primarily on you as you freeze up once more with all three girls following your eyeline to spot the Cameron boy.

As expeceted, Sarah is immediately full of apologies.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise he’d be here.” She whispers quickly and you can’t bring yourself to respond, feeling like you’re deep rooted into your spot on the driveway.

Kiara eyes are furious as they look up at your ex, her fist clenching and unclenching as she cocks her head almost challenging him to even acknowledge you.

“That motherfucker better stay where he is or I’ll gut him like a fish.” Cleo states lowly, bringing herself to stand in front of you slightly as Rafe continues to stare.

You snap your gaze away from him, eyes flitting to Sarah who is looking at you with a mass amount of guilt.

“On second thought, I think I’ll stay out here.” You mumble, attempting to have a teasing tone but your voice comes out shaky and vulnerable causing you to curse yourself silently.

Rafe had basically turned you into a frightened child, trembling in her boots at just the sight of him.

“Okay, we’ll be right out.” She says softly, grabbing Kiara’s hand and running inside leaving Cleo to stand infront of you protectively.

“If he even dares to leave that house…” She grumbles, left hand now donning her iconic pocket knife she carried no matter where she went.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you slowly withdraw it, knowing exactly who’s messaged you as your eyes scan the text and then dart to where the man himself stands as you slowly hand Cleo the phone so she could read it herself.

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy!” You shout out, voice holding a slight tremble as you stare up at him in fury, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Rafe: I never meant for you to be afraid to be around me

Rafe: plz come in so we can talk.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Five months after the split and you’d successfully avoided any interactions with Rafe, sure he’d been in close proximity to you but thanks to your friends he didn’t even get the opportunity to utter one single word to you.

Overcoming the small manipulations he’d implanted in your mind was a milestone you were incredibly proud of, coming to your own realisations at how fucked up he was toward you.

You’d observed over the months how he’d been with other women, well not seeing him with them personally but hearing about such notions from either Sarah or Rafe’s friends. You’d heard how easily he used and discarded them and you followed his distinct patterns to yourself.

While you knew he was with you for a significant period of time that didn’t mean he didn’t not use you, you were the picture perfect girlfriend to parade around to parties and to impress his father.

But he discarded you after every event, made you feel like a disappointment.

And he’d pushed you to believe you deserved nothing.

Despite that being a significant factor of your relationship you struggle to heal from, luckily, you have JJ.

JJ had always been obvious with his feelings toward you, he never bothered to hide them before you’d gotten with Rafe but he respected your decision when you did eventually get together with the Cameron boy and he ensured he was primarily your friend after the split.

But with months of pining and being there for you, and you for him, he’d laid his heart on a silver platter for you.

You didn’t realise you’d been falling for him but you weren’t going to deprive him or yourself of the happiness it would both serve to you.

And when you told him? JJ became the happiest man on the planet.

But don't tell me you're sorry, boy

Feel sorry for yourself

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else

You and JJ had decided to take things slow, he didn’t want you to feel pressured or like he wasn’t valuing you by rushing into things (A notion which made you fall for the blonde haired boy even more.)

You’d been dating for around a month now, JJ not being able to wipe the cheesy grin off of his face whenever he was with you and you’d never felt happier.

The two of you were sat at the boneyard, tipsy off of beer and one another’s presence, as JJ holds you onto his chest.

What you had failed to notice, was Rafe making his way to stand before you and at the sight of him your stomach churns violently with nerves.

“So what? You’re fucking Maybank now?” He says loudly, voice hoarse and at the sight of the boy’s appearance you immediately feel sorry for him.

“Get lost Cameron.” JJ says boredly, not bothering to move from his position holding you as he glares up at Rafe.

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry! But fucking Maybank is low, I didn’t realise you were so fucking trashy.” Rafe slurs but you don’t find yourself being hurt or even bothered by his words as you simply tilt your head at him.

“Yo! Watch your kook mouth when speaking to my girl!” JJ shouts, voice laced with fury as he goes to rise but you place a hand on his chest to settle him back into place as you snap your head to Rafe.

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies, Rafe, I don’t think it’s me you need to be sorry for.” You state, voice not tethering on anger as you lean into JJ showing your lack of interest toward the Cameron boy. “It’s yourself.”

And they'll think that I am so exciting

You’d heard from Sarah that Rafe had stopped doing cocaine, apparently he’d even gone to a rehab centre on the mainland and you acknowledged that you felt truly happy for him.

But honestly? You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on the thought of him getting his shit together.

Sure, you cared, a part of you would always hold care for Rafe but you didn’t spend time thinking about the man or what could’ve been if he’d begun healing while you were together or even before.

It’d been 18 months since you’d split from Rafe and you never thought you’d know the happiness that you’d witnessed on John B and Sarah’s faces at that party.

You were wrong, obviously.

You’re walking down the pathway after finishing up work at the small cafe you’d landed a job at in figure eight, Sarah having gotten you the role as it was one of Rose’s friends who owned the business.

JJ was on his was to pick you up, having already told you he’d be slightly delayed as he’d promised to do a small delivery for Pope’s father and you’d assured him you were okay with waiting as he borderline refused to let you walk from figure eight to the cut. The journey being around an hour and he didn’t want his girl getting overheated.

You’re not paying attention as you walk, eyes trained on your phone as you message on the Pogues group chat and due to your distraction, you collide into a chest which leaves you grappling to grasp your phone before it falls.

“Oh my god, i’m so sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You exclaim, blowing out a breath as you look at the person who you’d walked into and your eyes widen slightly at the sight.

Rafe.

Yet, he didn’t look like the Rafe you remembered.

The boy had shaved his head of hair away, now donning a buzz cut and the usual blown pupils that looked upon you in the past were now a normal sizing as he smiles down at you, nervously.

“It’s all good, y/n.” He says softly, not protesting when you take a step backward. “H-how have you been?”

You nod and shrug awkwardly at the same time, “Good, really good actually.”

Rafe smiles, “I’m glad to hear.”

“And you?” You ask, shoving your hands into your shorts that weren’t actually yours but JJ’s.

“I’m getting there, I’m uh three months clean now.” He notes and you feel yourself smile at the mention, not noticing the way his gaze seems to light up at the sight of your smile.

“That’s good, I’m happy for you.” You state, eyes genuine and sincere as you look up at him.

“I know it’s not my business but, how are you and Maybank doing? You guys still together?” He inquires and you want to snap at him for asking but you instead smile wider at the mention of JJ, happy you get to talk about your love.

“Yeah we are, we’ve actually just got our own place together.” You say softly, now fiddling with the promise ring JJ had given you which was placed perfectly on your right hand.

Rafe eyes watch your movements and while you don’t see the regret in his gaze, he feels it immensely.

The boy opens his mouth to respond but the sound of a motorbike whirring has the both of you turning to the source. At the sight of a familiar red bike drawing nearer, you grin.

“That’s Jay.” You mumble to yourself, turning back to Rafe as you smile at him once more, “It was good to see you, I’m real glad you’re doing better.” And while you know it sounds rushed, you can’t bring yourself to care as you turn away and walk down the pathway to where JJ had pulled up.

When you were with Rafe, you’d be expected to just hop onto the bike with no greeting as he’d impatiently tap his fingers on the handles. But JJ isn’t Rafe, not even close.

The blonde haired boy immediately stands off of his bike, propping it up and jogging toward you as he scoops you into his arms to spin you around causing you to squeal in delight.

Rafe watches the interaction, the pure bliss on your face similar to nothing he’d ever seen when the two of you were together and while he’d forever consider you to be the loss of his life he couldn’t find himself being bitter you’d found love with JJ.

Rafe didn’t treat you with the love or excitement you deserved but JJ does, and the Maybank boy will ensure he spends the duration of your lives together proving you deserve such happiness.

[glasskey]

Episode 6

After last weeks episode, some press releases and exchanging comments with Tuchman online it’s now become abundantly clear that these writers have done something so incredibly cruel to their audiences that I can’t even. After 5 1/2 seasons and 9 years they have crushed the hopes of 90% of their fanbase.

I’m still at a loss as to how absolutely stupid and selfish this is that I’m still processing, but I’ve really tried to articulate this as best I can. 

In episode 2 Holly called Nick a Nazi, setting him up for a monumental take down and of course here we are….subtle? No. Predictable? Of course not. For years now, show runners have made a huge effort to construct an intricate and utterly gorgeous love story the likes of which we’ll be lucky to ever see again….and then they poisoned it in the eleventh hour. They spent years building up trust in a character who for all intents and purposes shouldn’t be trusted…..and then they stabbed the audience in the back. It’s vicious and cruel and after viewer loyalty through Covid and writers strikes, you get to hate them for it. After having the audacity to call this season a “love letter for the fans” you absolutely have permission. 

To say I’m surprised they did this would be an understatement, the fact is I never thought they’d be this stupid. Any social media posting could have told them the math on the price they would pay in terms of ratings and profits, but it’s more than that, they’ll pay in trust. From now on their audience will never trust them again, they’ll pay dearly for it with The Testaments because well, who’s going to watch a show with their name on it, when audiences have already been so brutally kicked in the face? These writers can try to justify this all they like but the fact remains that they withheld character information until the last moment only to pile it on, expect their audience to lap it up and emotionally detach from a character that they’d loved for years and years. It doesn’t work like that. In the absence of complete character transparency, people construct their own history and from the small amounts they were given they developed a portrait of Nick Blaine that was deeply sympathetic and grew to love him. To expect an audience to emotionally detach from a character and “re evaluate”, as Tuchman said, in the final 4 episodes is insane. It demonstrates exactly how out of touch these writers are with how much their fanbase has bonded with these characters and this duo in particular. People don’t simply change over to Team Luke, they just turn off. This love triangle was dragged out for years simply for viewer engagement, but worse than that it was heavily romanticised, reeling audiences in and cutting them off at the knees brutally after a bait and switch in the last season. I’m particularly mortified by the inclusion of such scenes including Blaine reading Corinthians, given their ultimate intent. What the actual fuck? They could have performed their villain reveal years ago but they wanted to have their cake and eat it too. To add insult to injury it completely negated any autonomous choice the protagonist would have to make about this love triangle, to bring it to a close. Once again a mans actions determined the outcome of a relationship. By revealing a character as an “illusion” of the protagonists mind, they will also in effect completely poison the ENTIRE existing love story as being nothing more than a cheap deception. It’s one of the most toxic things I’ve seen a writing team ever do. 

Unfortunately it doesn’t matter if they suddenly have Nick Blaine sprout wings and fly out all the fucking Handmaids, the damage is done. They’ve effectively cast doubt upon him and he’s already had to work overtime to earn that trust. The only noble thing for him to do now is for him to die and that’s probably what they have planned. I mean fuck it, they’ve completely violated all of the rest of the text so why not go the whole hog? 

I’ve heard about fans crying over this, LITERALLY crying and I can’t say I blame them. This show feels like PTSD and these two were the only bright thing in it. What struck me was that they weren’t crying that Nick had done something awful or that Nick and June had broken up, they were crying that the writers had done this. And that really is the point; they won’t hate Nick Blaine for it, they wont REALLY believe that he betrayed June after this long….they’ll just hate those writers for ruining something so beautiful. I know I will.