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traumadumpwriter · 3 days ago

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Freedom - John Shelby

Chapter Twenty Three

John Shelby X FemaleOC🥃

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: An extremely traumatised woman finds herself tangled up in the lives of the Shelby's again and through John's love is able to find some peace. Though that peace can never last long.

Trigger warning for graphic depictions of abuse, sexual assault, self harm, ptsd/ trauma, blood, general violence, mentions of drugs and alcohol, time period typical misogyny

Warning this chapter is extremely graphic

Masterlist

Chapter Twenty Two | Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Three

After breakfast, the girls grabbed blankets from the living room to wrap around themselves and sat in the garden. Despite it being early August, the summer days were sporadic and this day was not one of them. Within the small concrete confines of the garden, a slither of sunshine would sometimes creep in, lighting up the tiny space with its yellow glow before it hid behind the clouds again. It was largely overshadowed though by the jutting imposition of the surrounding houses, most having no gardens at all but instead hanging their washing from their windows. Of course John had picked one of the fewer houses in the neighbourhood with a patio - he could afford it after all.

His thoughts were not on the patio though, despite the conversation the girls were having about it as they collected their blankets, instead they were unsurprisingly on Jones. As soon as he'd gotten the all clear from Alice, it had nagged at his body, the image of his death acting as a homing signal for John. He was practically having to dig his heels into the ground to stop himself from flying off to the shed where he knew the man was. The shed where he was going to die, finally. Justice would be done.

The girls were much more relaxed. Alice had picked up John's box of cigarettes before she'd headed outside, balancing it between her fingers with a lighter tucked under her thumb, and now sat smoking with Mindy, girlishly discussing the details of her wedding.

"Ooh and what was the cake like?" Mindy added another question to the line of ones she'd already asked.

"It was a double layered vanilla cheesecake. Made at the bakery just down the road. I don't even know how John knew that was my favourite, I don't think I ever told him." Alice answered, smiling as she sucked on a lit cigarette.

"He probably remembers things from your childhood that you don't. You said you'd known him your whole life but never really paid him that much attention, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I did... You're probably right." She gushed, remembering just how long she'd been in John's sights for.

"Can you not just get married again so I can be there? I wanna throw flowers! That's what I did for my aunts wedding."

Alice smiled at her innocent enthusiasm, though her brow furrowed in confusion as she thought deeper on her words.

"What ever happened to your family? You never really said."

Mindy shrugged, her expression sinking into one of disassociation that looked unfamiliar on her usually expressive face.

"My father had debts to some local gang. I never knew anything about it until after... Our house was always full, everyone would be there - my mum, my dad, my siblings, my aunt and uncle, my cousins. Looking back I suppose there wasn't actually that many of us, but it felt like a lot at the time." Mindy took a drag on her cigarette at the same time as Alice, turning to her as she realised and smiling "Jinx!" before continuing her story in a lighter tone, seemingly infatuated by the sky now.

"And so I got home one day, and they were all dead. Shot. Police did nothing... So, yeah. I'm the only one left."

Alice nodded thoughtfully before leaning into her with a sigh, smoke shooting from her nose.

"Wow Mindy. I'm really sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. Ain't like you've had it easy either." Mindy answered lightheartedly.

"No. But I'm also sorry for that. It's not fair is it? None of it."

"It's not. But what good does it do to dwell? We're here now."

"Aye. We certainly fucking are. The two only survivors of our families. I suppose that says something, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I recon so." Mindy answered before turning to Alice with a giggle. "Anyway, I want to hear more about the wedding. Did you go on a honeymoon after?"

The previous light mood returned with the brunette's proud smile. "Yes, yes. We stayed in this beautiful cottage in Cornwall, right by the sea! We were swimming almost everyday, it was so warm down there. God, Mindy I have to take you some time!"

"I would love that! I've never been to a beach before. Was it sandy?"

"Yes it was sandy. John kept putting it in my hair. And then he would get it wet and make mud balls to throw at me. In fact I think we spent more time throwing sand at each other than we did shagging." She then added in a quieter voice "And we did quite a lot of that."

They both laughed gleefully, enjoying the feminine presence of each other immensely. Despite never being able to be so close when they'd originally met, often separated or forced to be silent by their husbands, they had still been each others only friend for a long time and their bond was now blossoming, unchained by previous boundaries.

"Wow, Alice. It all sounds so amazing. It makes me so happy for you."

"Thank you, I'm happy for me too."

They beamed at each other and as if on cue a strip of sunshine burst through the clouds, illuminating their faces and bringing another joyful laugh from their lungs. John stepped out into the garden seconds later, hardly enough space for him between the red brick wall and Alice's outstretched legs.

"Was wondering where my smokes went." He held his hand out for Alice to pass him the box with a smile "What are you two laughing about?"

"You." She answered with a grin, stabbing her fag end into the ground. "The wedding, Cornwall. I must take her there."

John beamed at the memory, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Oh yeah. We ought to do it all over again, so Mindy can see."

"That's what I've been saying!" The blonde agreed enthusiastically. "A vow renewal! Or is that a bit tacky?"

"I don't mind if it's tacky. Anything for my darling!" He retorted with a cheesy grin.

"It's hardly for me though is it John, you just love to show me off." Alice teased, John squatting down to be eye level in response.

"It may be true that I love to show you off-" he put a hand on her shoulder, gently tracing his finger along her exposed neck "-but you and me both know that you love being a princess."

"Who doesn't?" Mindy added.

"Exactly. Thank you, Mindy." John looked to her for half a second before continuing his intense gaze on Alice.

Her body was mostly covered by the thick, knitted blanket, but her pale face and hands peeked out of it. He looked down to her finger, expecting to see the ring, but then remembered it's temporary position on the bedside table as the swollen, purple skin came into sight.

And then the butterflies left.

He remembered what he had been doing in the first place - saying goodbye to Alice whilst he went off to kill Jones - and the tightness in his jaw returned.

"I'm gonna go anyway. I'll be back in a couple hours."

From the change in his face, Alice knowingly nodded and leant into his hand, letting his thumb slide over her lips and then trace her cheekbone before his lips replaced its touch.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." She returned, and with that he was gone.

The girls sat in comfortable silence for a moment until Mindy decided to speak again.

"Should we get drunk?"

"Fuck yes... we're gonna have to go to the shop though. Got nothing in."

They both groaned at that.

"You can hardly walk. How are we gonna get there?"

Alice thought for a second, scouring her mind until the answer popped into her head.

"There's a bike under the stairs. You know how to ride one?"

"I'm sure I can remember."

"I'll get on the back then."

So, dressed in comfortably baggy clothes, the girls shrieked and squealed as the thin bike wheels wobbled over each cobblestone in the street. People turned to look at them, faces full of judgement until they clicked that it was Alice Shelby on the back and quickly looked away. Even with her bruised face, her thick scars and curly hair made her quite recognisable - that and her confidently loud demeanour. Mindy didn't notice a thing, too content with the little adventure she was on to bother looking at the people around her.

When they got to the shop, the grocer's face was originally one of shock as he looked at Alice, though he quickly switched it back to his usual friendly smile not wanting to risk offending the woman - or her husband, who he assumed had been the one to leave the bruises.

"Morning." He called politely, relieved when the two women called back to him. He inspected the look of Mindy once they'd turned their backs down an aisle, never having seen her before and also wondering where her bruises had come from. From behind she could've passed for a child - only emphasised by her wind chime voice - but in her face her age was apparent. Despite her youthful glow, smooth skin and rosy cheeks, her eyes held the same sunken look as Alice's; the same one that some of the soldiers had - the look of someone who'd seen too much. The grocer noticed this as she skipped over to the till, her arms full of sweets. He had to try hard to keep a straight face when Mindy started talking to him, her purple arms suddenly becoming visible with her excited hand gestures.

"I haven't had any of these in years! Some of these I've never even seen before!" She grinned, rocking excitedly on her heels.

"Those flake bars are brand new. Only got them in a month ago." He smiled back at her as he packaged the groceries, then his gaze fixed on the brunette stood slightly behind her, her tattered arms filled with glass bottles. "You together, Mrs Shelby?"

Alice smiled at the man, nodding and placing the bottles down before pulling a wad of cash from her pocket. The grocer was not surprised by this, as she always seemed to bring far too much change out with her, but Mindy visibly was, her rocking stopping and her mouth falling open.

"Chuck in a pack of smokes too. How much do I owe you?" Alice asked casually, handing him a note once he answered and smiling "Keep the change" before limping out of the shop.

The grocer continued to discreetly watch the girls through the window as they clambered onto the bike - the smaller girl clearly struggling with the push off but managing surprisingly well once they'd started moving. Their laughter echoed through the thin glass and he couldn't help but laugh slightly himself, thinking of all the odd things he'd noticed about them and yet the shocking beauty they both possessed.

"Strange girls." He mumbled to himself. "Very strange indeed."

Meanwhile, John's day was far removed from the giggles and chocolate of the girls. As soon as he'd set himself on the mission, his mind considered nothing else and festering anger pulsated in his gut. He had no real plan in his mind - just a craving for blood. When he arrived at Charlie's yard, lips puckered around a cigarette and eyes thinned, the older man instantly knew what he was there for and swiftly lead him to the tucked away barn before hurrying away. He'd peeked in at the state of affairs the girls had left Jones in and knew he didn't want to be around for whatever John was going to do.

Aggressively, John swung the door open and stepped in, wrinkling his nose at the smell as his eyes scanned the messy room. In amongst the dusty strings of straw and old wooden equipment, pieces of flesh were visible - flung about the room like confetti - along with bright splatters of red. John saw the rotting lump of what appeared to be a cock and let out a small exhale of amusement before he turned to Jones - naked, curled up and quivering against the pole he'd been tied to.

"Pl-Please. Let me go." Jones begged in a whisper, knowing nothing of the man in front of him. "I won't tell anyone. I promise!"

John stood and examined the man in silence, towering over him like a great, intimidating statue. From his head to feet he looked dirty in a way that John couldn't properly define - like his internal venom was leaking through his skin as some kind of warning. His curly hair was knotted, his face bloodied and his eyes blackened, yet even without the circumstance of his current situation John could imagine there was not much of a difference in his appearance.

"Okay." John said plainly, bending down to unlock his cuffs. "I'll let you go."

Jones eyes widened in disbelief and he hoarsely stammered "Th-Thank you" sitting perfectly still as the chain on his wrists loosened. Once the chain dropped, he still didn't move until John said "Go then" at which point he struggled onto his knees and started to crawl towards the door, unable to stand on his broken, toeless feet.

John watched him crawl, a pained huff coming from each agonisingly slow movement, and examined his body more - the slob that Alice had told him of being apparent in its truth. His upper lip curled in disgust and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool just for another minute. He truly was just as scummy as he'd imagined.

Before Jones could reach the door, John stepped in front of him casually, one hand in his pocket and the other on his gun, and the nude man instantly froze. He looked up at John, pupils wide with adrenaline, and mustered another pleading look.

"Wh-What are you doing?" He whimpered, frozen on the spot as soon as he spotted the gun.

"Well you didn't think I was gonna let you go, just like that did you?" John scoffed down at him. "I wanna hear you squeal like the pig you are."

"What do you mean?" Jones stuttered.

"You heard me. Make some noise."

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before letting out a high pitched squeak, eyes darting back to the floor in shame. He oinked and squeaked for a minute, unmoving, only stopping once he heard a short, humourless laugh fall from John's mouth and looked up at him again.

"Did that make you feel small?" His thick brummy accent came out dryly. "Or a bit stupid?"

"Yes." Jones answered quietly.

"Good."

John promptly kicked him in the face at that, his heavy boot slamming straight into the man's nose and flattening it against his face. Instantly, blood sprayed from the wound and Jones cried out, inhaling sharply before distraughtly wailing.

"That's what you fucking get." John hissed, watching him grasp at his face in doubled over pain. Before Jones could even look up at him to respond, he landed another kick, and then another, and then another and another.

"You made her - feel small - every fucking day!" He shouted in between the blows, unable to keep his composure any longer. "Worse than small - you made her feel like nothing!"

He continued to boot at the man's body until he was curled up in the far corner of the room again, only pausing for a moment to scoff at Jones as he cried out "I'm sorry!"

"I'm sure you are now. Scum."

It was then that Jones realised there was definitely no escaping this. The man beating him was Alice's husband and he would certainly want to make him suffer. The realisation inspired a new spark of anger in the deluded man, bitter spite running through his veins, and he managed to splutter out "Well she's a bloody whore anyway!"

John gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his skin turning hot from rage. He paused again for a moment, just to take a deep breath and attempt to dissipate the cloud of red in his vision, but then the grubby man continued.

"Me and all the boys ran on it for miles. So have fun with her. You're a fucking idiot if you believe anything she says. Why-"

Before he could continue, John swiftly bent to his level and delivered a storm of hard punches to his face, not stopping until he was unrecognisable from swelling and blood and John's knuckles were purple. It was a frenzy unlike any he'd ever experienced before, unable to remember throwing the punches even seconds after he'd stopped. Sure, he knew what he'd just done, but the suffocating, blinding rage held no real memory - just pure physical instinct.

Jones was wheezing, unable to speak, looking more like a rotting corpse than a living human, and as much as it satisfied John to see, it did nothing to quell the sickening fury he felt. Alice had been right when she said that it didn't really change anything - he couldn't let her be, but in his heart he knew it was true. The despicable man that he'd dreamed of torturing for months was now here, body dismantled like a child's doll, and it still didn't change what he'd done to his wife. She would remember those things forever.

He let out a frustrated sigh, stepping away from the man to pace around the room for a moment, his hands instinctively going for his cigarettes and box of matches. The smoke seemed to instantly slightly soothe the tension in his chest, stretching back so that his gaze was on the ceiling as he collected his thoughts.

"Was this even worth all the hassle? What if I've made everything worse by agreeing to this?... No, of course it's worth the hassle. That cunt had it coming and Alice is happy at the moment. She'll feel a weight lifted when she knows he's dead, she'll be even happier than she was this morning."

A small smile formed on his lips for a second as he thought about his wife's beautiful beaming face and the pride that he felt for how much she'd lived through.

"God. I wish she hadn't had to live through it though. No matter what I do, she's always going to have those memories. The nightmares. That horrible fear... I could cut this cunt up into a million pieces and feed it to the dogs, I could torture and kill any family that he might have, I could torch the ground of any path he's walked - completely destroy any evidence that he'd ever been alive, and it still wouldn't be good enough. Because there's still be one piece of evidence left - Alice. My beautiful, darling Alice."

John's trail of thoughts were disturbed by a sudden burning at his finger and he looked down to realise that he'd smoked his cigarette to the root. It confused him for a moment, as he couldn't tell if he'd just been tugging on it harshly or if he'd been stood thinking for longer than he realised. He decided that he didn't care anyway and tossed it onto the floor. Determined, he strutted back towards the pile of flesh in the corner, feeling more satisfied with his work than he did earlier though still angrily shaking.

"Why ain't she here?" Jones hoarsely demanded, clearly struggling to speak. John quickly kicked him in the gut in response, then scoffed as the man started to cough up blood, every movement visibly painful.

"Because you don't get to have your last words to her. Only to me, and the devil."

"Oh the devil is coming for you too son-"

John kicked him again, so heard the crunching of bone and felt it through his thick leather boots. Jones body practically folded around it, a mucusy wheeze shooting another heavy spurt of red phlegm from his lips. It was clear that his death would be soon, whether directly by John's hand or not, and so he had to think for a moment whether to leave him to die more slowly, or to deal the final blow and end his misery.

"He deserves the longest death possible, but I can't leave here without seeing him lifeless and god knows how long he'll take to bleed out. Should I pull up a chair and have a few smokes, or should I get it over and done with?"

He decided on the latter, having fantasised about delivering the killing shot for too long to not do it. It satisfied his ego too much.

As he pulled out the gun from his pocket and held it to the man's terrified face, he smugly smiled despite his brows being still furiously furrowed. It was the expression of a mad man; one forced to the brink of his emotions by love.

"So what have you got to say then? Before I put you down." He flicked off the safety and rested his finger on the trigger.

With the sight of the polished metal, Jones' previously pleading tone started again "I didn't mean it, I-"

But John pulled the trigger before he could finish his sentence, simultaneously feeling the weight of a thousand worlds lift from his shoulders and absolutely nothing. The bullet entered and exited in the span of a second, sending Jones' brain exploding out the back of his head and into the wall behind him. He dropped onto the ground immediately, his body twitching as his muscles contracted for the last time, and died within seconds.

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traumadumpwriter · 3 days ago

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girl u are so fucking good at writing

Thankyouu💖💖💖 I appreciate u

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traumadumpwriter · 3 days ago

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Shuddering

Bf!Rafe Cameron X Kook!Reader

Word count: 6k

What secret is his girlfriend hiding from him? She won’t go home, but she won’t tell him why, and Rafe just can’t figure it out.

Based on this request. Major trigger warning for themes of child abuse and sexual abuse. My DMs are open if you need someone to talk to.

Masterlist

Tannyhill was a huge, sprawling estate; the rooms gilded, the beds made with the finest silk, the land perfectly kept and the food prepared by the best chefs. The bathrooms smelt like vanilla, the sheets like lavender and each pillow like fresh laundry. There were maids, a gym, a library, a swimming pool, a jacuzzi and a cinema amongst many other unnecessary features. None of these things were the reason why you were always there though.

Of course, it was because of your boyfriend living there - Rafe Cameron.

You'd only been together for six months but his family had already accepted you as one of their own, delighted by your presence and the calming effect it had on Rafe. His step-mother Rose adored you, giving you the love that his sister Sarah wouldn't accept; getting wine drunk and talking shit with you, buying you clothes and cooking for the family with you. Sarah also liked you, but wasn't as quick to show it - suspicious of anyone who would choose to date her brother. His youngest sister Wheezie enjoyed spending time with you too, much more awkward than her older sister and sometimes finding solace in your quieter company. Most importantly, his father Ward liked you.

So the company was certainly a large reason for your "moving in" to Tannyhill.

But there was another main reason why you were always there, or at least never at home, and it was something that, although people had picked up on, no one had ever outwardly questioned. No one except for Rafe that was.

It had just fallen from his lips without much thought. You'd been together for three months at that point and when you weren't with Rafe, you were with one of your friends. He hadn't thought about it at all until that moment; when he went to ask if you wanted to spend the night at his and already knew what the answer was.

"Why don't you ever go home?"

His question had been abrupt and unexpected, sat face to face in the booth of a Thai restaurant.

"Okay, rude. Should I leave now?" You'd teased in mock offence, earning an amused scoff from Rafe.

"No I didn't mean like that." He grinned, and then his smile dropped slightly. "I just meant like, why are you always out? When was the last time you spent a night at home?"

Your mood shifted entirely, your body stiffening up as you looked down to the table unable to hold the eye contact that you just had been enjoying so intensely.

"I just don't get on with my step-dad." You sighed, scratching the back of your neck and then looking up again, saying anything to change the subject.

It wasn't exactly a lie. And it wasn't something that Rafe needed to know the details about.

And so he moved on to the other subject, pretending that he didn't notice the strange way in which your whole demeanour had just changed. He didn't ask for details. But he did start to notice them.

He noticed the way that you sometimes flinched away from his touch, how when he accidentally woke you in the night your eyes would be full of terror, the deep breath that you would take when you did actually go home, the irrational anxiety you were seemingly littered with. It was adding up to an unpleasant picture in his head, but nothing that he felt the need to confront - not yet. You clearly didn't want to talk about it and besides, you were just a bit quirky after all, that was why he liked you in the first place.

So he didn't confront it. How bad could it be after all?

That was until he'd told you that he was going to be away for three weeks.

A family vacation to St Tropez, meaning that Tannyhill would be empty and locked up. Meaning that you wouldn't be able to stay there for all that time - meaning you would have be at home.

"Woah, woah, what's wrong? I'll be able to call you and text you. It's not like I'm gone forever." Rafe had almost laughed as you'd broken down into tears, so startled and confused by the reaction.

"I know. It just means- I have to- to go home- for all that time." You sniffled and Rafe brows furrowed in further confusion, an uncomfortable suspicion building in his gut.

"What's going on at home, baby? Why don't you want to go back?" He asked you softly, placing his hands soothingly on your waist.

"M-My step dad- he's an asshole."

"I know, but surely he can't be that bad." Rafe tried to lift the mood but then cautiously asked "Does he hurt you?"

You hesitated before answering, an unexpected jolt running through your system. A sudden sneaking suspicion - did he know something? Followed by the crashing weight of guilt. How disgusted you felt at yourself for it all. How - maybe Rafe deserved to know the truth, but you weren't going to tell it to him.

"No-No. He's just... mean." You eventually whispered, which Rafe scowled slightly at.

"Should I go give him a warning, show him what I can do?" He asked lowly and you quickly replied "No. That wouldn't help."

Rafe pulled you into a tight hug, uncertain of what else to say, not quite knowing if he believed you but just wanting you to stop crying. When you were eventually able to, which took a little while, he carried you into bed and gave you a massage, relieved when you finally started to relax.

He wasn't used to seeing you upset and he didn't like how helpless it made him feel. Part of him didn't even want to go on the holiday anymore, his gut sinking at the thought of you crying by yourself, but Ward and Rose wouldn't hear any of it and so he had to push down his worry right up until he boarded the plane; his jumper still damp from your tears.

"Bless her, Y/N was so sad to see you go. She is so in love with you." Rose had smiled, which both Wheezie and Sarah had scoffed at.

"God knows why." The eldest sister muttered, earning a sharp glare from Rafe though he didn't particularly disagree with the statement.

"Yeah. I'm lucky." He replied to Rose with a half smile, his gaze distant, his mind unable to let go of the image of your wet, pleading eyes.

The first night back at "home" was just as bad as you'd feared it would be.

The dining room was set elegantly and the food was lovely, prepared by the chef who had recently been hired due to your step-dad's promotion. There were vintage bottles of Merlot, lit candles and a china vase full of freshly picked flowers set about the table. From the outside it would've looked charming - inviting even - but it didn't take long for things to get ugly once everyone was sat down.

Your mother, the classic example of a negligent wine-aholic housewife, had hardly spoken a word since you'd gotten home, her fingers permanently secured around a lip-stick stained glass as if they had died in that position. Her eyes were only half open as she picked at the food, seeming disinterested in everything, including digesting anything that wasn't pressed into a pill or liquid form.

Your sister was eight and delighted for you to be home, practically bouncing in her chair as she told you about everything that had been happening at school - how she was top of one of her classes, how she had been having piano lessons, how some boy had called her a name so she made him cry. It made you proud, and even made you miss being at home slightly, chuckling as she spoke.

That was until your step-dad spoke, also chuckling at your little sister, though his eyes held no real amusement as they were instead pinned onto you with a burning gaze.

"So I take it the Cameron's have gone on holiday and that's why you've decided to come back?" He asked, his tone teetering on amusement.

Before you could answer, your mother finally drew the cusp of her cup from her lips and spoke, her voice only semi-clear.

"Of course. It's that penthouse they have in Santa-Cruz. Rose posts so much every time they go." She scoffed and then looked at you. "How come you weren't invited? I thought you were a Cameron now."

You paused before you were able to answer, the question leaving you with a sting though you knew that it was only said out of spite.

"I'm not a Cameron, I’ve only been with Rafe for six months. It's a family holiday. Why would I be invited?"

"Well you're not a part of this household either and you haven't been for a long time." Your mother sneered which you were only able to sigh at.

"Okay. Sorry, mum."

"Oh don't be so harsh. At least she's come back now." Your step-dad leant towards you with a faux grin, tutting at your mother.

"Yeah. Y/N is gonna stay, right?" Your little sister interjected, looking up at you expectantly. "At least for a little while?"

You automatically shifted away from your step-dad whilst forcing a smile to your sister.

"Yes. I'll be here for a little while."

She grinned excitedly at that and your step-dad patted her on the shoulder, his eyes drifting across her body and then searing back into yours in a way that made you physically shudder.

"It's alright, you're almost a woman now, aren't you? You don't need Y/N around anymore."

And with those words, and the venomous glance coupled with them, a sudden pit formed in your stomach; cavernous and crumbling, getting bigger with every millisecond. The anxiety that had been building in your chest had exploded into a thousand-mile-an-hour motor, pumping your heart so fast that your pulse could've felt like one continuous beat.

You excused yourself, going to the lavatory to throw up before collecting your breaths, washing your face and heading back out to your family, masterfully pretending as if you hadn't just experienced a ground-shaking panic attack, and resuming conversation.

By time the dinner was your parents had consumed a bottle of wine each, and though you'd managed to contain it, your dread had increased tenfold. You'd hardly drank anything, yet you felt your balance wane as you stood up from the table, carrying your plate to the kitchen with your sister close behind you carrying her own. You both thanked the chef, and then you made your way to the swing-set in the garden, listening to your sister chatter until it was time to send her to bed.

You had hardly been listening, your own thoughts had been too loud. And as your step-dad crept into your room that night, assaulting you in the ways that he had since you were a pre-teen, your thoughts only became louder; leaving your own body as you focused on what was now your main worry: making sure he never did this to your sister.

Three weeks of nights like that continued. The only time you would get a break were the nights that you spent out partying with your friends - which wasn't something that you usually tended to do. Drunken 3am FaceTime calls to Rafe had never been frequent before, but now he was receiving them a couple times a week, and though he picked them up with a smile - it was worrying him.

His mornings in the sun, stretched out next to the pool or relaxing in a cafe, would become punctuated by striking thoughts of concern, uncertain if he was just overreacting or if his instinct was right.

When he finally got home, the first thing he did was drive to yours, his heart racing at the sound of the excitement in your voice on the phone as he'd told you he was arriving. You were stood there at the edge of your driveway, a smile on your face and a bag on your back. He opened his arms out to hug you and you practically jumped into them, holding on so tightly that he thought you had suddenly started crying again for a moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, you can let go, baby." He said with a light chuckle, kissing the top of your head before looking up at the house that you'd come out of.

At the top window, stood watching with a confident glare, was your step-dad, and though Rafe had met him plenty of times with no bother - his gaze, along with how strange you'd been, sent a shiver down his spine. He decided to leave that conversation for later though, taking you out for dinner and catching you up on all the crazy things he'd been doing whilst you listened dotingly.

But even as he enjoyed the food and conversation with you, he couldn't help but to keep noticing things; like how you were saying next to nothing about your own time, and the distant look in your eyes whenever you did. Your body was remaining tight and rigid, seemingly unable to relax in your chair and looking uncomfortable, and then you even flinched as Rafe put his hand on your waist to lead you out of the restaurant, securing to him that he needed to say something.

It was dark in the street and you'd both had a few drinks. People were walking past, other couples on date nights and well-off families, and Rafe wondered for a moment if it was the best time to bring it up - the taxi only five minutes away according to his app. Then the words fell from his lips anyway.

"What's going on with you, Y/N? You're acting really weird." He questioned lowly, his voice cutting through the silent fog you'd been stood in.

You blinked a couple of times, uncertain of how to respond, before replying in a half teasing tone "Am I?"

"Yeah. You are."

"Well sorry." You shrugged.

Rafe's demeanour only intensified at that, leaning in closer to you and speaking firmer, still laced with some softness.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to tell me what's going on. I'm worried about you, since when do you still go out clubbing all night with those girls? They're not a good influence and you know it. Something could've happened to you, and I wouldn't have been there to stop it-"

"I'm sorry, Rafe. I was being careful, I promise."

"I just said babe, I don't want you to apologise." He reiterated before resuming "And I know you were being careful, I know that you don't even really like clubbing, so that's what I don't understand. It's almost like you were just... desperate to be out of your own house... like you always are."

"Rafe, I-" but then you cut yourself off, unable to string any meaningful words together, which only deepened Rafe's scowl.

"And now you're all quiet. You're jumpier than a methhead. I don't like it, Y/N. What's going on with your step-dad?"

"Nothing-"

"Is he hitting your mum? Your sister? Is he hitting you?" He was getting slightly louder and seeming more panicked at this point, his hands making their way to your sides and his eyes running down your body like he was checking for bruises.

It was a moment that Rafe had given you in which it would've been perfect to confess. You could've laid out the truth there and then, no preemptive conversation to be had beforehand, just a quick admittance - followed by what would probably be a swift course of action on Rafe's part.

You couldn't say it though.

There were so many reasons why that not one of them seemed the clear and obvious main cause. It didn't matter anyway - what could Rafe actually do to fix it? If your step-dad went to prison, your family would suffer greatly. Your mother would disown you, she and your sister would loose the house and a large part of their fortune. Everyone would find out about your darkest secret, it would tarnish the family name. You couldn't have that.

"No, he doesn't hit us. He's just mean." You eventually sighed.

"Yeah you keep saying that, but what does mean mean?"

"I don't know, he shouts a lot, okay?" You snapped, shocking Rafe with your sudden irritation. "Do we have to talk about it? I don't want to think about him."

He didn't know how to press any further after that. Maybe he was just an asshole.

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry, babe. I just worry."

"I know you do. It's fine."

It didn't feel fine though, even as you cuddled into Rafe's side in the back of a taxi, his body enveloping yours like a warm blanket, he could feel that you weren't fully relaxed. Only after a couple hours of cuddling in bed and watching a film did he feel you finally fully sink into his flesh, your bones becoming unbound and your muscles releasing the last trickles of their pent up tenseness. A deep, long breath left your chest, and for the first night in three weeks, you went to sleep feeling safe.

Two weeks passed, and the safe nights that you were used to feeling with Rafe dwindled into rarities. The comfort that you'd managed to absorb on the first night of being back together started to feel unattainable as each next night passed; the anxiety about yourself fading and instead being replaced by fear for your sister. You were unable to sleep some nights, pulling at your hair and pacing around the balcony. Then, when you were able to sleep, your subconscious was typically bothered by bad dreams, varying in degrees of terror. You were texting and calling your sister a lot more, and having borderline panic attacks when she took a while to reply. All of this paired with the fact that you were still so jumpy from any unexpected touch, had Rafe seriously concerned.

"Since when are you so worried about your sister? I thought you said she's a smart kid." He questioned, seeing you texting her again.

"She is... I just think some kids are being mean to her at school, I don't want her to feel alone."

It would be such a weird thing for you to lie about, and you had never been a liar anyway, but something about the way you spoke made Rafe feel like you were lying. He hated how frequent this feeling was becoming but said nothing, knowing that his words would gain nothing anyway. Just like how it wasn't in your character to lie though, it wasn't in his character to bite his tongue as he had been doing, and it was only building the discomfort that your behaviour was making him feel.

Bad parts of him whispered that you were hiding something completely unrelated to home. Cheating on him or doing something sneaky of a similar vein behind his back. When you were in the shower, he would go through your phone and look for any evidence of that but of course find nothing. Then he would feel bad for even suspecting such a thing, holding you close as soon as you stepped back out into the bedroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around you.

"Okay. Well I'm sure she'll be fine. I can always send Wheezie to beat them up." Rafe tried to sound comforting before he shifted to his next question.

"Are you sure it's just your sister that's got you so stressed out? It seems like it might be something more."

And there it was again; another shining opportunity for you to confess. This one hurting more than the others for some unnameable reason. Maybe it was because he was so close to the truth, or maybe it was because of the countless sleepless nights you'd had beforehand and the exhaustion you felt as a result. Either way, your bottom lip trembled as you forced out your half truth.

"It is just my sister. I- I think my parents might be even meaner to her than they were to me. My mum is a mess right now, I don't know if she's ever sober."

Rafe seemed to relax ever so slightly at that unexpected confession, shooting you a pitiful glance before sinking down into the sofa beside you and snaking his arm around your waist. You never spoke about either of your parents to him, and though he knew that your mum was difficult, he was surprised to hear that she was that kind of difficult. Still, from his silence, you could tell that he was waiting for more.

"I want to be there for her, but I can't stand being around my parents. They're just so... shitty. And now that she's getting to that age where... kids get meaner... I don't know how to protect her."

He hummed understandingly but still said nothing. All that you could say to fill the silence was one last thing; a full truth that had your voice shaking.

"I just don't want her to go through the same stuff that I did."

Rafe pulled you into a side hug and offered gentle words of support, finally feeling some rest in his overworked mind. It didn't entirely settle the knot in his stomach, but it at least made him feel like you weren't lying - in that moment anyway.

Only a few hours passed and you were both in the depths of sleep, wrapped up around each other in Rafe's king sized bed. Since that earlier moment, you had been feeling fraught with anxiety, unable to turn your mind off, and it had exhausted you so much that when your head hit the pillow you were actually able to fall asleep. Then you suddenly found yourself plunged into the depths of a nightmare unlike any you'd ever had in its brutal realism.

Vicious, vivid and alive; you'd found yourself pinned down and suffocated, all whilst watching the same thing happen to your sister through the warped reflection of a cracked mirror - the glass black and tinted like the shades of your step-dads glasses. Then he struck, his nightmarish form assaulting you with the intensity of how your waking consciousness would have experienced it if not so disassociated. Your body had stored the memory for you to experience at a later date, and now was seemingly the time. The weight of the air in the twisted reenactment was so heavy, making it all the more suffocating as your hands were slowed, unable to hit or push your step-dad off. It even pushed down on your chest, keeping your voice trapped in your lungs no matter how loud you tried to shout. Still, you kept trying, screaming and punching with all your might, until suddenly the sound was replayed back to you, a girlish, terrified cry ripping through the void and shooting you awake.

The weight was still on top of your body, and you realised that there was someone there, touching your skin and speaking blurred words. In the waking world, the air was no longer heavy and you could suddenly move your limbs, desperately kicking and punching and crying out for help against a hard body.

"Stop it, dad! No!" You shouted, the words shredding your throat as they came out; the volume and clarity shocking you into momentary silence.

The adrenaline started to drop. Your consciousness fully emerged; your heartbeat was no longer deafening and your vision was clearer. In the darkness above you, you saw Rafe, his face warped with fright, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you gently. The sight only lasted for a moment though before it became blurry, an unexpected wetness pooling at your eyes.

You tried to say his name, but your breath was caught in your chest, and before you knew it you were suddenly unable to breathe, your lungs feeling impossibly tight, your throat constricted by an invisible force. The bed felt as if it was swallowing you up, and Rafe was miles away despite being only centimetres from you; the fright in his face only increasing as you struggled to breathe in between painful sobs.

His right hand had made its way to your face, stroking your cheek with little determination to wipe up all the tears, never having seen so you distraught. Your skin felt like delicate china under his thumb and he was scared to press too hard, the shaking of your body more apparent from the lighter touch.

"What's happened, Y/N? What’s going on - with your step-dad?" He asked softly, struggling to hide his own panic.

And as your chest got tighter, you felt a sudden surge, unable to keep it from him anymore, desperate to tell anyone - desperate to get your breath back.

"He- He- does stuff- to me." You choked out. "Pl- Please don't- hate me."

"What kind of stuff? What do you mean?" Rafe's voice was slightly less soft now, the circular movement of his thumb against your cheek halting.

He already knew exactly what you meant, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat, thrumming infinitesimally fast. But he had to make sure that he hadn't jumped to a conclusion, not for something as serious as that.

You swallowed a hard gulp, choking on a splutter of air before gasping out your next words, unable to look in one direction as you spoke them.

"He- He touches- me. Since- since I was- ten."

And with that, Rafe felt his heart drop down from his throat to his stomach and then back up again, forming a lump in his throat that he was quick to swallow down before jumping to console you. He wrapped his arm around you, his muscles painfully tight no matter how hard he was trying to relax them as the troublesome puzzle pieces finally all fit together in his mind.

"I'm so- so scared. So- scared that- he's going to- to hurt her- my sister- too- I'm- I'm sorry." You continued to choke out words, your sobs unyielding and your whole body shaking.

It was the truth that Rafe had wanted to hear so badly, but now that he was being faced with it, he wanted nothing more than for you to stop talking. Not because he was disgusted or angry at you in any way, but because he was raging with himself for not getting it out of you sooner, and even more so at your step-dad, his adrenaline pumped body ready for war. Looking at your distraught, pleading face, he tried his hardest to keep his voice soft and gentle, his touch still and calm.

"Okay, okay baby. I understand. You don't have to say anything else. I could never hate you for that. Don’t ever think that." He cooed, holding you closer against him so that you were now crying into his chest, his warmth enveloping you completely.

He rocked you slightly from side to side, the tight gasping of your lungs thrumming through your skin and twitching at his arms, then he pulled away, demonstrating deep breaths until you were able to catch yours again, blubbering "I'm sorry" at every moment you could.

"Stop apologising, it's not your fault, Y/N." He said lowly, cutting you off mid sorry and putting his arms back around you, resuming the rocking.

"It's his fault. He's fucking disgusting for even wanting to do that to you, to a child-" Rafe cut himself off, swallowing down his steadily increasing volume and then continuing in a much more hushed voice.

"Everything is going to be okay. I promise. You never have to go back there again, and I'll make sure he's far away from your sister - don't you worry about that. You're both safe here, darling."

Even with the new possible future sparkling within your eye-line; one that you hadn't ever truly considered - part of you wanted to argue. To beg him not to tell anyone, for fear of it destroying your family and of the financial repercussions. Rafe would expect you to make a police report with him at the very least. You thought of how it would feel to tell the truth to anyone else; police, doctors, detectives, family members, potentially even a court room full of people, and it made you physically wretch.

That feeling was nowhere near as bad as what you'd experienced in the nightmare though, helpless against all of your repressed guilt, drowning under the vision of another potential future, thrown against the rocks by its waves.

"I am sorry- I should've- stopped it... If he's- if he's hurt her... it's my fault." You sobbed.

"Don't say that, Y/N. It's not your fault."

"It is!"

"No it's not! I promise you baby, none of that is your fault. Okay?... Someone who was meant to protect you has abused you for so long that it's- it's like, fucked with your head." Rafe protested, holding you closely. "He's fucking evil. He's scum. And he's never gonna be anywhere near you or your sister again. He's gonna pay for this. I promise that I'll make him."

He continued to quietly deliver words of attempted comfort for a while as you shook in his arms, your panic attack unyielding. It made him feel all the more useless, unable to calm you in your time of need, and so he eventually relented to an idea that he didn't particularly like, but knew not what else to do.

"Let me get you something that'll calm you down. Is that okay, baby?" He whispered and you nodded, hesitant to let his skin depart from yours but willing to do anything to catch your breath.

Rafe stood up and quickly went to one of his drawers, digging through it until he found a small orange pot, which he tilted into his hand before closing the lid and putting it back in the drawer.

"Here baby, here." He cooed softly, his open palm revealing a small blue pill.

You slowly lifted your trembling hand to take it from him, your limbs feeling impossibly heavy again. He handed you a glass of water and you almost dropped it, your fingers too weak to grip it properly, but Rafe was quick to place his hand underneath and help to hold it up to your lips.

He watched intently as you swallowed down the pill, and then resumed his tight hold on you, rocking you like a baby until you eventually calmed down and then slowly fell asleep. Once he was certain that you were entirely unconscious, your expression finally relaxed, he left you lying across his soft covers, placing a thin blanket across your body and casting one more long look at you before pacing out of the room, heading straight to his dads office.

"Dad, I need to talk- right now."

Ward didn't look impressed in the slightest, a monocle clipped onto a specialist pair of glasses as he sat up from the old paper he'd been examining. But then he saw the tightness of Rafe's jaw and the clenching of his fists, how he was simmering with rage, barely containing it under his tanned skin, and found himself actually concerned.

"What's up son?" He asked.

Rafe didn't hesitate to answer, practically spitting the words.

"It's Y/N. Her fucking step-dad, he's been- he's been fucking touching her. It's why she's never at home. It's why-" He stopped, his jaw getting tighter and his volume increasing as he started to pace. "I need you to get him in a cell, right now! Before I go over there and fucking kill him!"

Ward stood up quickly, his eyes wide and his heart suddenly racing. Certain things that he'd pondered on about you made sudden sense, but he had to push back any emotion based thought as he put his hands gently onto his son's and spoke slowly, hopeful to calm him down.

"Okay, Rafe. You're good for telling me, well done son. I'll go to the sheriffs office right now, but you do realise Y/N is going to have to come too, right? She's going to have to be the one to say it. I can't just get a man put in prison-"

"I gave her a Valium - to sleep. She couldn't stop crying. Can she not just go down there in the morning? She's- She's really not alright-" Rafe swallowed, dampness twinkling in his eyes before his voice went rough again. "I'm gonna kill him, dad. I can't stay here knowing that he's out there. I mean- I mean how fucking dare he? She was just a kid. And even now- And her little sister- If he's-"

He cut himself off again, a low growl leaving his throat as he snatched his hands away from his dads and pounded into his thighs with his fists.

"He's dead! He's fucking dead." His voice erupted into a sudden shout and he went to pace out of the room before Ward grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

"Rafe, I need you to calm down, alright? You need to go look after Y/N, don't let her see you like this, it won't help anything. Okay?"

He waited for a response, which came after a few seconds and was still only a nod, his son squirming with bloodlust and barely able to contain it.

"I'm gonna drive to the sheriff's right now, I'll do my best to get him locked up tonight, but you're going to have to bring her by to make a statement in the morning."

Rafe nodded, his nostrils flaring red with invisible steam. He was unable to bring himself to be beside you again for the moment and so he went to the front lawn, watching his father drive away and then starting to pace around, muttering to himself. Part of him was in total disbelief about the whole situation; shaken up and wishing for it not to be true. A bigger part of him was adding up all of the clues you'd unintentionally dropped, feeling stupid for not putting the picture together sooner, hating himself for forcing you to go back to that house.

He didn't know how long he was pacing for, but it felt like hours and Ward still hadn't returned. Rafe hoped that that meant things had gone their way and that he was just speaking with the Sheriff whilst your step-dad was being processed into custody. Violent fantasies thrashed around in his mind and he'd struggled to calm himself down, but was finally at a point where he could be beside you again - even if he wasn't able to sleep.

Silently, he crept into the bedroom, took off his clothes, fished the pot of Valium back out of the drawer and swallowed two down, then slid into bed beside you. His eyes drifted slowly across your sleeping form and all that he could think about was how beautiful you were. How angelic and sweet you looked in your white nightgown; your tear stained face finally relaxed and your chest rising evenly. He wanted to let you sleep like that for days, knowing just how badly you needed it, and he was dreading having to wake you up in a couple of hours to drive to the station.

Were you even going to be able to speak to the detectives? He didn't know, but he just prayed that you would - unable to bear the thought of that man walking free, knowing that he would catch himself an assault charge at the least and a murder one at the most. All he could do was pray; not to any God in particular but more a desperate plea into the universe, helpless to do anything else. He prayed that your step-dad would face justice, that your sister was safe and most of all; that you would be okay.

Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while I’ve been super busy with life. I hope you guys like this one I tried really hard with it but I’m not a huge fan I can’t lie. Obviously the subject matter is really sensitive and as someone whose been a victim of this kind of abuse I tried to keep it tasteful but also with a level of realness as to how it feels which I found hard to do without making it too explicit. If anyone needs to talk to me about anything my dms are open. Stay safe <3

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traumadumpwriter · 17 days ago

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fuck riara fuck jiara fuck rafia jafe is where the real shits at!

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traumadumpwriter · 20 days ago

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Blue Boy

Bf!JJ Maybank x Reader

JJ is acting strange and you can’t work out why. He’s distant and depressed and seems to be having even more issues with his dad than usual, but he won’t tell you anything. Eventually, you find out what he’s been hiding and it changes the way you look at yourself as a girlfriend.

Warnings for: mentions of abuse, slight smut, self harm, cutting

Word count: 2.1k

This was a request by the way! I really hope you enjoy it. Sorry it took me a little while to get done. I’m not sure if this is an imagine or more of a drabble? Reminder that if any of you are struggling with self harm or anything at all my dms are open! Stay safe <3 (story below divider by @i-mmaculatus )

Imagine bf!JJ arriving at the Chateau with a swollen black eye for the second time that month. Everyone worriedly questions him but he tells you all to back off, insisting that the "issues he and his dad have aren't anyones business" and that "it wasn't a big deal." He goes straight to the fridge, effortlessly cracking open a can with one hand whilst the other arm rests against the wall, his bruised muscles flexing through his tee. For the rest of the night he puts on a happy face, but it's clear to you that there's something simmering beneath the surface.

You try to speak to him about it gently, far into the late hours of the twilight with your naked bodies intertwined with each others. The room is dark and the covers are over you both, but in a bar of pale moonlight you are able to examine the purple mark on JJ's face. Your fingers trace gently over it.

"Your dads been.. worse recently. Are you sure you don't want to stay here for a while?" You whisper.

He shakes his head quickly, seeming almost offended, before he replies with a confident sneer.

"It's fine baby, I'm fine. Don't you worry about me."

His fingers glide along your cheekbone down to your lips, stroking the skin like it was fine silk. The intimate motion would usually make your thoughts wander, but you see in his eyes that he lacks his usual lust.

"I am worried though. I don't get why you stay there." You sigh. "It doesn't make sense. Why do you let him do this to you?"

He huffs and withdraws his touch, laying flat on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"To be honest, I kind of deserve it." He mumbles, entirely unaware of how shocking his words are to hear.

"You don't deserve it. Why would you say that?" You quickly answer back, your brows knotted together in worry.

But JJ just shrugs.

He slides on his boxers under the covers and then gets out of the bed to go shower, which strikes you as being slightly weird - JJ has never been one for modesty - however it doesn't bother you enough to keep your minds focus. Instead, you just sit and worry about his disheartening words.

For the next few weeks, he only gets more withdrawn. He spends an entire day on the HMS Pogue without swimming - just quietly fishing. He stops teasing you and making you yearn for sex during the daytime, only making his move when the house is dark and quiet. He even just drops off one day, not turning up to the Chateau and not answering his phone.

You spend that entire day in a panic and don't even understand why. "JJ has done this plenty of times before, he's an unpredictable guy, it's probably fine." You say to yourself, and yet you can't shake this nauseating anxiety from your gut. The Pogues all feel it too. Only when he arrives late into the afternoon of the next day, marching into the room like a man risen from the dead do you understand the anxiety that you feel.

You're scared that he might do something to him self.

He stands around in the living room and jokes with everyone, smugly revealing the wad of cash he'd "earned" on his unexplained excursion, and you joke and smile along too. Calling him out might make him leave again and you don't want that.

Alone with him and after quite a few drinks you're unable to resist it though. His behaviour has just been so strange and erratic and just as you think it can't get any stranger, he gets out of bed and turns off the lights before trying to continue the stages of pre-fucking.

"Why did you do that?" You wonder, expecting a snarky comeback but getting nothing in return.

JJ just continues to manoeuvre his head between your legs, intoxicated by the sight as always. His lips press against yours and you almost loose your trail of thought, your eyes squeezing shut and then opening again into.. darkness.

"Jay, turn on the light. I wanna see you." You mumble but he ignores you again, and this time you're definitely not going to let it slide.

With a huff, you sit up straight and push him from you.

"It's just... nice in the dark. I don't look great right now." He speaks quickly, half anxious half still concentrated on your body.

You stand up and turn on the light. JJ doesn't try to stop you, but he doesn't do a good job at hiding his displeased expression either. The behaviour is just so strange to you and it makes you question yourself, especially in that moment.

"Do you not want to be able to see me or something?" You try to sound casual in your questioning but a shake escapes and before you know it there are tears dripping down your face.

JJ quickly rushes to you and holds you closely, asserting to you that you're perfect and your appearance would and could never be a problem in a million years. You don't buy it though, weeks worth of anxieties overtaking you in your drunken state.

"Something is off. I know it is. You've been acting so strange. Is it your dad?"

"No. It's not my dad." He answers, still embracing you.

"Is it me?"

"Of course not."

"Well then what is it?"

He sighs and looks you up and down, considering your beautiful expression and how much innocence he's stolen from it already. He wants to tell you, but he can't.

"It's nothing, Y/N."

"But JJ-"

"Just leave it." He tuts.

You open your mouth to protest but stop yourself, feeling defeated by the underlying hurt in his gaze. With a huff, you lean back onto your elbows and eye your boyfriend, entirely unsure of what to say to him. He catches the gleam of upset in your face and sighs again, shaking his head to himself and forces a smile.

He lightly swaggers back towards the bed, standing over you with a smug expression as he was before.

"Cheer up baby. Let me make you come." He murmurs, lowering his head to your thighs.

And who are you to resist that? He makes quick work of your needs and after catching your breath, you're pawing at the erection pressing against his boxers.

"Let... me... help.. you." You pant out and he swallows hard.

"No... No it's okay." He smiles, his lips wet.

He twitches in your hand and you let out a light chuckle. His body is betraying his words and he knows it. He makes a frustrated huff before stepping backwards towards the light switch. Before he can touch it though, you sit up straight with a scowl, post-nut clarity filling you with sudden annoyance for letting him drop the subject before.

"I'm not sucking your dick in the dark again!" You huff. "What the hell is going on? Do you have a wart down there or something?"

You expect him to crack at least a small smile at that, but he doesn't. He stays silent and your stomach twists.

"You've not actually, have you? Have you caught something? Have you cheated on me?" You question.

When he doesn't reply to that, the twisting feeling turns into stabbing and your eyes are suddenly wet again. JJ has always hated this - how fast you jump to conclusions - but he doesn't get annoyed. This only makes you feel worse.

"Who with?"

He looks from your shaking lip to the ground to the wall and then back to your face again, before letting out a defeated breath.

"Who am I kidding?" He mumbles to himself, his gut hurting just as badly as yours. Then he takes a deep breath and puts a hand on your shoulder.

You try to shrug him off, sniffling "Do I need to get tested?" but he ignores it, suppressing the ache he feels at your accusation.

"I'd never do that to you, Y/N." He whispers and then his voice stiffens. "I've just- I did something dumb the other day and I don't want you to like, freak out or something."

You're confused. Possibilities race through your head but none of them make sense. What on earth could he be talking about? His hands hover above his boxers for a moment before he picks one of the leg sleeves, rolling it up and revealing the patch of thigh that he'd been seemingly hiding for weeks.

Your breath hitches.

There are rows of deep cuts, at least twenty, scattered around the small patch of skin. Some of them are red and some of them are pink - clearly slightly older.

You know what you're looking at immediately. JJ knew that you would.

"JJ- I- I don't understand- What- Why would you do this?"

You gently trace your finger along one cut. It's dried out and healing, but it looks sore.

"It was just one time." He mumbles, hating the hurt in your voice.

"There's a lot here for just one time and they're not shallow either." You speak quietly, eyes transfixed on the angry marks, and you almost want to scold him were you not feeling so guilty. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I don't know... I just didn't want to stress you out. But it's okay, I'm honestly fine."

You don't want to get emotional, you know that that's the last thing he wants, but you find it hard.

"It's not okay. What made you do this?"

He finally rolls the material back down and then reached for his beer on the side, taking a gulp before mumbling "Nothing made me."

"Well then what happened?"

He's silent, finishing his beer and then crushing the can in his hands. He avoids making eye contact with you, squirming at the thought of being so vulnerable, but he knows he has no choice. It was better this than have you think he'd cheated on you.

"Are you seriously just not gonna talk? You're scaring me JJ. What's happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just- I was stressed out. I don't know! I just wanted to feel in control or something. My dad is always beating on me- and yeah I deserve it sometimes, but- I don't know. It just felt like I was doing that fuckin' self care that you and Kie are always talking about but like... the self care I deserve." He confesses, the words breaking your heart as the land.

"Oh, my baby." You whisper and quickly stand up, pulling him into a tight hug.

He stays frozen for a moment but soon gives in and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and you shake your head.

"No don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I wish you didn't feel like that about yourself... You're too good for that... You're too good for this place."

"I'm not though, Y/N... I'm kind of the worst."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. I don't know why you're even with me. I don't know why the Pogues put up with me. I'm a fucking asshole... Sometimes I even piss my dad off on purpose because I want him to hit me. I don't know why. I guess I just deserve the pain."

You stand in silence with him for a moment, stroking the back of his head with your hand. It hurts your chest to hear his confession and you feel sick at the thought of all the hurt he'd been enduring. How hadn't you picked up on this?

He lifts his head from your neck and finally looks you in the face; attempting to keep his blank but his eyes giving him away.

"Do you still want me now?"

"Of course I do." You answer. "And I always will. I love you and I'm not judging you, JJ. You're my favourite person in the whole world. Can you please promise you'll speak to me from now on.. or at least try to..."

"I can try."

You both embrace each other tightly again and JJ places a kiss on your head, whispering another apology. You give him a kiss, get dressed and grab some supplies from your medicine cabinet. You're both still fairly drunk so the cleaning becomes a mess; antibacterial liquid all over his crotch and plasters everywhere.

It's funny and you both laugh a lot. Then JJ finally fucks you with the lights on, mumbling about how much he'd missed it after falling down onto the bed beside you. You fall asleep soon after, breathing heavily and both feeling slightly better about everything.

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traumadumpwriter · 21 days ago

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traumadumpwriter · 21 days ago

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Deep Wounds

Bf!JJ Maybank X Female!Pogue! Reader

“I should’ve been able to protect you.”

Summary: You walk in on a fight between JJ and his dad and things quickly make a turn for the worse.

Trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of violence, abuse, blood

Word count: 3.4k

This is actually a request so here is your reminder that my inbox is open I do take requests and I’m also here if anyone ever just needs someone to talk to. Stay safe, love y’all <3 (divider by @v6que )

The night air was thick with salt and humidity, made thicker by the warm, boisterous energy of the Pogues. It had been a wild night at the Chateau, drinking and smoking a lot whilst enjoying the hot tub that JJ had impulsively bought. It was a stupid purchase - but you couldn't help but mentally thank your boyfriend for it sometimes. You were pressed tightly against his torso in the cramped tub, relieved by the fact that his bruises were faded for once - as were your friends though none of them dared to comment on it. It wasn't that kind of night anyway - everyone was on a good vibe and things were going right for once.

"You look so good in that swimsuit. Is it new?" Sarah had asked, beaming at you with a drink in one hand and the other intertwined with John B's. You smiled gratefully and shrugged.

"Really? I borrowed it from Kie. She said I can keep it, but-"

"You look amazing in it and it belongs on you! Just keep it already!" Kiara interrupted you with a playful groan, splashing at you with the warm water. "Right guys?"

"It does suit you." Pope agreed, a sheepish smile as his eyes darted between yours and JJ's. He relit the joint in his hand and took another toke from it.

"Hell yeah it suits her. Everything suits her." JJ grinned and then turned down to look at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and his lips pulled into a smirk. "Isn't that right baby?"

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach for a moment and you let out a bashful giggle, shaking your head.

"Whatever you say."

With a proud smile, he placed a kiss on your head, his hand trailing along your side, before he got out of the tub, shaking himself dry and letting out a whoop.

"This is gonna be a good night!" He called and you all whooped in agreement.

But then he opened the cooler and his excitement lessened. He turned to John B with a huff.

"Any more beers inside bro?"

All eyes pinned onto the brunette. He thought for a second before his lips dropped and he shook his head sadly.

"Nope. Got about four dollars in my room somewhere. Could ride to the store?"

"That'll only get us like one crate of beer though bro..." JJ mumbled, stretching his neck and looking around as he thought.

"I've got five dollars. That'll get us another crate and a bag of chips." Kiara added.

"I've got seven. We could get a bottle of something heavier?" Sarah suggested with a cheeky grin, earning a cheer of approval from everyone.

"Okay, okay. So that's sorted but we need more weed..." JJ spoke. "I know there's like forty dollars in one of my dads drawers. I could quickly go get it, pick up, be back in twenty minutes-"

You got out of the hot tub, stumbling and almost falling over, landing into JJ with a chuckle before regaining your seriousness. His hands were placed firmly on your waist and his eyes were glimmering with adoration.

"Are you sure you should do that. I mean- I know your dads not been around for the last week, but- what if he comes back? What if he's already back? If he catches you-"

"It's fine. He's probably just passed out somewhere." He snorted with a smug smirk. "I won't be long."

"Okay well I'm coming with you." You demanded and JJ struggled to hide his grimace.

He knew that there wasn't much point arguing with you in this state, you could be pretty stubborn when you were intoxicated and the girls would certainly back you up.

"Fine, fine." He sighed. "But just wait outside."

So you got onto the back of JJ's motorbike and headed to the Maybank residence whilst Sarah and John B rode to the local shop. The atmosphere was light and carefree, and as you both hopped off the bike you shared a kiss, intoxicated by each others presence.

"No car here. Coast should be clear. I'll be two minutes. Do not come inside." JJ whispered, patting you on the shoulder before he opened the creaking wooden door and stepped inside.

You sat leant against the front wall as you waited for your boyfriend, silently drumming your fingers in a beat against your knees as you pictured the night ahead. The crickets chirping and the thick grass scented air almost makes you appreciate the run down area. "Tonight could only get better." You thought. But then, the sharp, venom-laced voice of Luke Maybank cut through the stillness.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

You heard JJ respond something back, but his voice was considerably lower and muffled by the wooden walls.

"You should never be in my room. No matter how long I go away. You know that."

There was another muffled response and then a sudden and loud crash - and then you froze. You'd heard about these fights before, you'd seen the terrible evidence - but you'd never witnessed one.

"Please just get out of there. Please just run." You whispered to yourself, praying that JJ somehow heard it.

Another crash rung out - something being broken - and then another shout, though this time it was by JJ, his voice almost unfamiliar to you in its distress.

"You're a piece of shit. Fuck you!"

The sound was shredded with visceral hurt in a way that made you feel a deep pang of fearful uncertainty.

"Well you're half of me so what does that make you?" You heard Luke seethe back.

And then JJ cried "I'm your son! Why isn't that good enough for you?" and another crash rang out.

You couldn't bare it anymore. Without any thought you shoved open the wooden door and stormed into the ramshackle house.

JJ was crouched on the floor with Luke looming over him, his leg ready to deliver another kick until they both spotted you. You looked entirely out of place next to the peeling wallpaper, his pure shining angel surrounded by dry muck.

"Get off him!" You demanded, trying to sound as assertive as possible.

Instant panic rushed through JJ as he watched his dad eye you up. He desperately clambered up from the floor, quickly standing in between you both.

"Get out of here." JJ hissed at you, his heart going faster than he ever thought possible, but you paid him no mind. You were worried about the fresh cut on his head and your focus had suddenly shifted to that, the sight of blood raising your anxiety.

JJ struggled to keep his eyes on both you and his father, wanting to hold you but needing to keep his guard up. And then suddenly Luke lunged at him again.

You barely managed to step out of the way of the man’s wildly swinging arms, backing away just in time though quickly regretting it as the punch landed on JJ. Within seconds, they were in a full on brawl again and your brain was spinning with panic. They looked like animals, blind with rage and in a clear hierarchy - JJ was the prey and his father a diabolical predator. You couldn't bare it one second longer.

"You're a scumbag! Get the fuck off him!" You shouted, grabbing Luke's arm with both of your hands as he pulled it back to deliver another punch.

Both heads snapped toward you again. JJ's eyes widened, horror flashing across his face.

"No- Y/N. Go. Get out! Now!"

But before his words could even settle, Luke shook you from his arm, shoving you to the ground in the process and then promptly delivered a harsh punch into JJ's gut. JJ spluttered painfully. Luke scoffed.

"You fighting his battles now?" He chortled to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Pretty girl like you ought to know better than picking fights with big, bad men like me."

You glared up at him and thought about throwing a punch of your own, but you were too scared. Luke loomed over you; breathing heavily, fists clenched, eyes in an unsettling gaze, and all you could see was the predator stalking its prey. JJ coughed and choked from the ground beside you, only cementing the terror that Luke's hands made you feel.

Still, you were protective of JJ and sick of letting this pathetic excuse for a man beat him up. You shifted over to JJ, trying to ignore the overbearing beast as you worriedly looked to his son - who was gripping his stomach in pain.

"Get out." JJ wheezed, looking at you with desperation.

You'd never seen him like this before. You'd never even been able to imagine it. JJ - the strongest person you knew, your protector - so broken and vulnerable. You turned back to Luke, this time your body in between his and JJ's, and mustered all of the courage you could.

"Does it make you feel good to hit your son? Do you feel like a big fucking man?"

Luke snorted, his lips pouted sourly. He looked down at his hand, like he was considering the size of it, and then he sharply drew it backwards, ready to throw a punch. You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, even flinching, but then nothing came. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see that his arm hadn't moved and instead a smug smirk splayed across his lips.

"Get out the way, Y/N." He spoke plainly, though a lash of poison came through that you flinched at again.

He was amused by this, his smirk deepening, but you didn't move. JJ was still groaning behind you, begging you to leave, but you couldn't. You had to protect him.

There was a tense almost silence, heavy breathing being the only noise, as you and Luke stared each other down like two dogs fighting for dominance.

"You think you can control how I run my family? Stupid little girl. Get the hell out my way!" He slurred and raised his hand again.

This time he did strike you, sending you to the grubby carpet alongside his son in a swift movement. It happened so fast that you didn't have time to process what was happening around you. Suddenly JJ had leapt up at him again, being immediately flung back onto the ground in his damaged state. Your head was spinning, but you pulled yourself off the floor and stumbled, looking around desperately for anything to defend JJ with.

Then you spotted it - an empty wine bottle. Perhaps if you'd been more sober you would've put more thought into it, but your body was moving before you had the chance to think. In a quick dash, you picked it up and slammed it into Luke's head, relieved when the glass instantly smashed and he stopped hitting JJ. The bottle had made a loud noise, followed by an even louder noise as Luke grabbed onto his head and shouted out in pain. You stared at the scene mesmerised - shocked that you'd been able to do that to a human, not having considered what the aftermath of a blow to the head might be. Blood started to flow down his neck and onto his shirt, and his confused annoyance turned into panic.

This was all that you had needed. A brief distraction. JJ grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you out of the house, running as fast as he could whilst making sure you kept up. You jumped onto the back of his bike and wrapped your arms around his waist - the movement being done so swiftly due to you being fairly used to having to make a quick getaway. This time was different though. There wasn't any laughter or shouting, there wasn't even a twinge of adventure, there was just pain.

It was after a few minutes on the road that you spoke, having to shout over the wind.

"Are you okay, Jay?”

He didn't respond.

You could see from the slither of his face visible from behind his neck that he was livid. His lips tucked in and his nostrils flaring.

"It's alright. You're out of there. He's a fucking dick. You don't need to go back." You tried speaking again but his face remained solemn.

An exasperated huff left your chest and you resided yourself back to cuddling closely against him, your head resting on his back. Your adrenaline was wearing down and you were starting to realise that your face did in fact hurt slightly - the right side where Luke had hit it stinging in the wind. You wondered how much JJ was hurting, remembering all of the blows you'd seen dealt to him, and it made you ache with worry. His silence was even more worrying.

When you finally pulled up at the Chateau, he continued his silence, pacing away as everyone ran outside to question you both, confused by your long absence.

"Where have you guys been? We've been waiting for you to start this bottle!" John B announced, chuckling as he held out the large bottle of rum in his hands.

Once his eyes caught the blood on JJ's face though, his smile quickly dropped. He put the rum down and rushed to you both, followed by the rest of the pogues who all too had wide eyes. JJ didn't acknowledge them, continuing his march to the pier whilst you stood still to meet them.

"Are you alright dude? What the hell's happened?" John B demanded to JJ, stopping him in his tracks.

JJ tried to step around him, letting out an annoyed groan, and then Kiara noticed the red of your cheek and gasped, running over to you.

"Oh my God, Y/N, are you okay? Did Luke hit you?" Her fingers gently stroked the mark as her eyes filled with wide fury.

At those words, everyone's eyes were on you, shocked and worried, and JJ used this as his opportunity to get past John B. The brunette tried to stop him again but JJ shoved him and he knew better than to push him back.

"Let him go. I'll talk to him." You said to John B, speaking over the anxious questions being fired at you by Sarah and Kiera.

"What's going on?"

"That's growing to bruise. What the fuck happened?"

“This was Luke, right?”

"Are you okay?”

"I'm fine!" You answered, overwhelmed by the noise as you watched the back of your boyfriends head get further away. "Luke was hitting him... I- I need to see if JJ's alright."

The girls and Pope asked more questions but you ignored them, chasing JJ across the overgrown lawn and down the rickety pier. The Pogues stayed put, watching you both from afar but still wound up and ready for action, cursing Luke and completely enraged that the man had dared to lay a hand on you both.

You called out JJ's name until he reached the end of the pier, where he stood with his hands on the back of his head and let out a raw shout before punching the rotting wood below.

“Woah, woah. It’s alright baby-”

“No it’s fucking not alright, Y/N! Don’t try telling me it’s alright ‘cus it fucking isn’t and you know so!” He interrupted you loudly, whipping his body sharply around to yours. “I’m meant to be able to protect my girl. I don’t know how you can even look at me right now.”

You were silent, shocked by his outburst and the glimmering wetness that had started to form in his eyes. The pain he was visibly feeling made you feel heavy inside to witness.

“That piece of shit- he hit you and I didn’t even stop it.” He continued, his voice now quieter as his teeth gritted, seething his words. He went to stroke the mark that his father had left on you but flinched back, like he was scared that his touch would hurt you too.

“You couldn’t stop him, I’m fine baby, it’s fine.” You spoke softly, grabbing his hand and holding it. “He’s a piece of shit, please stop blaming yourself. I’m worried about what he’s done to you. Are you hurting bad?”

JJ snatched his hand from yours and looked to the ground, shaking and unable to look at you.

“Fuck if I’m hurting. I’m fine. It’s you- I- I can’t believe he hit you! And I wasn’t able to protect you!”

His whole body was trembling and to only further his embarrassment, a sniffle escaped his nose as he struggled to hold back his tears. You couldn’t bare seeing him so broken and you fought past his resistance, pulling him into a hug until he finally gave in, crying into your shoulder.

“Let it all out. It’s okay baby. I love you.” You whispered, gently rubbing his back, knowing that it wasn’t okay but not knowing what else to say.

JJ didn’t say anything else for a while either, crying until he couldn’t any more and then sitting in silence with you at the end of the pier, ashamed by his emotions. He tried not to be, focusing instead on the feeling of his hand in yours or the water on his feet, but the sting of his tears in the fresh cut his dad had given him was stronger than either of those sensations.

You were leant into his side, ignoring the ache in your face as you focused on the sound of your boyfriend’s breaths, relieved by their evenness. You’d never heard him cry before nor did you want to hear it again, having felt so helpless under the crushing tidal wave of JJ’s uncontrolled depression. It actually scared you even more than Luke’s fists had.

You were the first to break the silence, already knowing that the blonde was kicking himself for being so vulnerable with you.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed about any of this, okay JJ? None of it is your fault.”

He swallowed, his eyes glazed over as he stared ahead at the moon-lit marsh, and weakly nodded.

“I’m serious. It’s not your fault. I should’ve stayed outside. I just heard arguing and didn’t think.”

He nodded again, his lips remaining tightly sealed in a straight line and so you continued on your gently spoken ramble, desperate to get some sign of life from him.

“I got scared for you. I heard your dad and it just… scared me. And I know that you’re all fucked up about him hitting me, that’s not a big deal, what is fucked up is him beating on you like that. I’m surprised you don’t have a broken rib. That was so horrible to see. I- I’m sorry you’ve ever had to deal with that... You know that I’ll be here for you forever though, right? And so will the pogues. You’ll always have somewhere to go.”

Finally, a small smile cracked at the corner of JJ’s mouth and with an aching stretch he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close and resting his chin on your head.

“I know. I know baby… You’re mine forever, right?”

“Forever and ever.” You answered softly, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’m just… sorry.. about how tonight went.” He mumbled with a sigh so heavy that his entire body seemed to relax.

“I know you are, but you don’t need to be.”

“My dad hit you-”

“Your dad would’ve hit whoever was there. Didn’t matter that it was me, could’ve been John B or Kie-”

“But you’re my girlfriend.”

“Jay-”

“I should’ve been able to protect you.”

“You were hurt, Jay. Stop blaming yourself, please.”

“I just feel like such a pussy.”

“You’re not a pussy and you never will be, so stop it.” You turned your head to look up at him and spoke harsher now, trying to get the message through his head. “None of it is your fault and I’m fine so what does it matter other than how he’s hurt you?”

JJ just scoffed playfully, colour returning to his cheeks as he gazed down at your attempt to be commanding, stomach twisting as he re-noticed all of the little features that he loved about your face - and then the slight red swelling of your right cheek. He had no answer to your question, nor could he be bothered to come up with something witty to deflect it, so he just pressed his lips against yours and let his sensations get taken over by the feeling of you.

There was nothing that either of you could do to truly remedy the situation, but for tonight you had each other, the stars and your friends, and he was going to focus on that instead. It was all he had after all.

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traumadumpwriter · 22 days ago

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Held Together

Bf!JJ Maybank X Pogue!Reader

Summary: In the devastating aftermath of John B and Sarah’s disappearance, JJ struggles to express his grief until it suddenly overwhelms him.

Trigger warnings for panic attacks, anxiety and grief.

Word count: 2.1k

This was another request. I know I took ages to do this and I haven’t posted anything new in a while sorrryy lol I’ve been low-key so so depressed and hating my writing, really not a fan of this one tbh. If any of you are interested in my other accounts my most active one is @gross99 ;P . As per don’t forget my inbox is open if you’re struggling with anything and my requests are open. Hope y’all enjoy <3 (divider by @i-mmaculatus )

Ever since that rainy night in which two of your best friends had supposedly died, things had obviously been quite different. John B and Sarah had tried to evade police capture by driving a fishing boat through a tropical storm and no one had seen them since. The moment that Deputy Shoupe had stepped into the tent, his head bowed low before he told everyone the news, would be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life.

You'd known before he even opened his mouth what he was going to say but it didn't make it land any less painfully.

"We lost them. Sorry."

JJ was stood beside you, his body tightened and his fists clenched, and although you wanted to reach out and touch him - to try to somehow calm him in some way - you were unable to move. Your body felt as if it were made of lead and although you heard the words that Kie and Pope spoke to Shoupe, you didn't process them until later on.

Lost? What did that even mean?

It hadn't surprised you when JJ shouted, his voice torn and full of hurt, nor had it when he blamed the Deputy for his part in it all - trying to somehow get some justice despite knowing that it was too late. You wanted to shout too, to also try to claim your own kind of justice but you had just felt so... frozen. Like nothing around you was real anymore. It was all a part of some twisted dream.

JJ lunged at the officers in his blind grief, and you had watched, the sight going off in your head as being something that you should intervene with, but your body stayed unmoving. The mental alarm had quickly faded into the background and was instead replaced by a loud, foggy silence and visions of your "lost" friends.

Lost? Like a set of keys? Or a favourite t-shirt?

Only when Kie had loudly cried "JJ stop!" a couple of times did you find yourself suddenly able to snap out of the trance, rushing over to your boyfriend and desperately trying to reach for him between the officers.

"JJ. Calm down." You'd pleaded, the cracking in your voice surprising you.

It was then that you noticed the warm, thick streams running down your face, matching JJ's. Like your voice possessed some magic tone, he looked up at and froze for a moment, his eyes glistening red, and then shoved the officers from his arms. They'd backed away quickly upon seeing he was finally somewhat calm, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

You could hear the fast drum beat of his heart, feel how tense his muscles were, how he was one inch away from seriously loosing his mind. Usually, his chest would be a warm place where everything was safe, but that night there would be no amount of real comfort either of you could offer each other. You'd found yourself uncontrollably sobbing into his t-shirt, the cries erupting out of your chest as Kiera and Pope's parents arrived.

It seemed like everyone had some noise to make, whether it was words of comfort, cries, questions, sniffles or gasps. But from that point on, JJ had stayed silent.

And the silence lasted for a while after that night.

In fact, it had now been weeks and JJ was still just as withdrawn, unable to joke or laugh or even get angry like he used to. He'd seemingly gone into some robotic mode, disappearing for hours at a time, pacing around the spots he'd associated with John B, and then returning to you with a plain, steely face, insisting that he was okay.

Realistically you knew that he wasn't, but you didn't want to press him, unsure of what really was the right way to grieve. All you'd done was cry and cuddle your boyfriend after all, beyond grateful to have him there. If he hadn't been with you, you probably wouldn't have eaten, but then again nor would’ve he. Every night you'd curl up on his lap and let tears fall from your eyes, remaining there for hours as you gradually drifted into sleep.

JJ on the other hand had hardly been sleeping. He'd been so tired, but entirely unable to turn his brain off. When he was able to finally rest in his dip into unconsciousness, it never lasted long. His brother's face haunted him, and even Sarah's, in dreams so realistic that he could've swore that his friends had just been in the room with him.

It was due to one of these dreams that JJ finally cracked. He finally made some noise.

This dream had been the worst one yet - a macabre nightmare - and it shocked JJ out of his slumber, causing him to shoot out from under the covers with wide eyes, panting as he came back to reality. He looked at you, comfortable and sweet in your bed, and didn't think twice about sneaking out of the room, desperate not to wake you up and let you see him like this.

But what was this?

He didn't understand what was happening. He just knew that it felt like the world was crushing him, physically and mentally, and he wasn't sure how much longer his shaking legs would be able to hold him up for.

Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom and quietly closed the door, cursing himself for always forgetting to fix the lock before finally collapsing onto the floor. His breath felt impossible to catch; his chest being squeezed by some invisible force and his stomach being twisted by the same thing. He tried to keep the chokes of his struggled breaths hushed, rocking back and forth with his legs pressed to his torso, but he found it increasingly difficult as he got more panicked.

A painful loop of images and words plagued his mind; a nonstop film of memories being played from a flickering projector that only made his chest tighter.

He had lost John B - his brother - forever. And the people to blame would never be brought to justice.

This mental reel went on for a while before JJ couldn't hold in his sobs anymore, something that only made his breathing more difficult and ragged. He had never felt so small and helpless in his life, not since he had been a little boy getting beaten by his father - only this helplessness was even more crippling, as there was no way of actually fighting it back.

At the same time, you had awoken from the absence of JJ's warmth and sat confused for a moment, wondering where he might be. His imprint in the bed was almost cold, so wherever he'd gone he had been there for some time. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stroked the material, worry building in your gut, and then you quickly decided to get up and check around the house, knowing that your parents weren’t in and wouldn’t be for another while.

"JJ?" You called, stepping out into the corridor.

You got no reply back, but you did notice that the bathroom door was closed and there seemed to be some noise coming from in there. For a second you hesitated, wondering if he was just on the toilet, but something in your gut told you that he wasn't.

When you pushed on the handle you weren't expecting to see the sight that beheld you. Your boyfriend curled up and infantile, looking so delicate, with such a dizzying array of panic and confusion in his eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow - too fast - and his fists were clenched, like he was ready to rip apart the bathroom tiling that he’d so kindly done for your parent last summer.

"JJ?" You spoke lowly.

He didn't answer - didn’t even look at you - and it made a shiver run up your spine. You quickly stepped over to him.

"Hey... what's going on?"

Still nothing.

And then a loud choke, his lungs unable to hold it in any longer.

"Fuck!" he shouted, curling over, hands in his hair. "Fuck- fuck. I can't- he's gone, I can't-"

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your heart hammering. "JJ. JJ, look at me."

He shook his head, tears streaking down his pink cheeks. "He's not coming back. He's not- he's gone- he's gone and I can't fix it."

He sounded almost as if he was choking on his words, frequently stopping for sharp breaths and tightly gripping his knees. You'd never seen him look so scared and you battled to not feel scared yourself, taking a second to collect your mind before grabbing his hands, continuing to hold them even when he pulled away.

"JJ, try to catch your breath." You said firmly, though your tone was still gentle. "You're having a panic attack darling, I promise things are going to be okay… Even without them…”

He started crying harder, hands shaking in yours like he didn't know how to hold on. You shifted your body so that you were closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and squeezing his fingers as you continued to speak, voice soft.

"I've got you. Just breathe with me. Right here. Right now."

"But he's gone, Y/N! Him- and Sarah! They're dead- and we're never gonna see them- never gonna speak to them- ever again." He sobbed.

And you wished you could say that he was wrong, you wished it with your whole heart, but he wasn't. Blinking back tears of your own, you swallowed the trembling lump in your throat and then, stroking his bruised cheekbone whispered "I know baby, I know."

For a while you just stayed there on the cold bathroom tile, breathing for him while he couldn't do it on his own, squeezing his palms and cooing softly. He slowly stopped shaking, though his breath still hitched now and then, whilst your fingers traced patterns rhythmically across his palms.

Then he finally spoke, raspy and barely audible.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't be silly." You murmured, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. "There's nothing wrong with you."

He didn't respond. Just closed his eyes and leaned forward a little, resting his head against your shoulder. You felt the weight of him - how heavy he'd become with exhaustion, his bones aching and tired. The silence seemed to fill in the cracks of those bones for a short while, at least as JJ learnt to breathe again.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm here. You're gonna be alright." You eventually broke the silence with a soothing whisper, which he responded to by gripping onto you even tighter, his wet face buried into your collarbone like a scared child.

"Just promise me- you'll never leave me. Yo-You'll stay with me- forever. You're all I have now."

"I'm not all you have. What about Kie and Pope. Even Hayward and my parents?" You tried to reason but he cut you off frantically.

"Please just promise me, Y/N. I- I can't loose you too."

You squeezed him lightly and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, holding your lips there for a short moment before answering quietly.

"I promise, JJ. I'm never going to leave you... And you're never going to leave me either. We'll both have each other until the end of time... You're never going to be alone, I promise."

Eventually, his muscles started to relax and his breathing became balanced. You let another healing minute of quiet pass until he seemed almost still; no more sniffles escaping from the gaps between your skin and a considerably slower heart rate thumping against you. His veins were no longer raised and pulsing with the pump of his adrenaline filled blood.

"Should we go back to bed?" You quietly suggested, tracing a circular pattern on the back of his neck.

After another long moment, he nodded - barely - and slowly stood up, gripping the sink as if he might fall over but then quickly letting go of it, avoiding eye contact with you. He turned on the cold tap and washed his face, rubbing at the skin roughly before following you into the bedroom.

The sheets were messy, still holding the shape of where you'd both been before all of this. JJ crawled in with a heaviness that hurt to watch, curling toward you with the same infantile vulnerability that you'd seen in him during his panic attack. His face was puffy and blotched with red, but he still looked so beautiful - even in his worst state.

You tucked yourself behind him, pressing your chest to his back and draping your arm around his waist, holding him as much as you could. He didn't say anything, but with a slowing, shaky breath he laced his fingers through yours.

"I've got you." You whispered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his head. "Just sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

It was a long time before either of you slept. But when JJ finally did you found yourself able to drift off again. Your sleep was dreamless and for once so was his, and so you both slept; two broken pieces held together just tightly enough to get through the night.

Finally edited this so am gonna repost it lol hope y’all enjoy. All interaction is extremely appreciated! My requests are open and I’m looking for moots!! <3

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traumadumpwriter · 24 days ago

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Freedom - John Shelby

Chapter Twenty Two

John Shelby X FemaleOC🥃

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: An extremely traumatised woman finds herself tangled up in the lives of the Shelby's again and through John's love is able to find some peace. Though that peace can never last long.

Trigger warning for graphic depictions of abuse, sexual assault, self harm, ptsd/ trauma, blood, general violence, mentions of drugs and alcohol, time period typical misogyny

Masterlist

Chapter Twenty One | Chapter Twenty Three

All interaction is extremely appreciated! <3

Chapter Twenty Two

Once Mindy left the room, Alice immediately started to peel off her clothes, the overspills of dried blood making her shirt sleeves stick to her skin.

"Bath's not ready yet. You're gonna get cold." John spoke lowly, trying not to wince at the sight of the dark bruises on his wife's scarred body.

The bandages on her hand were completely soaked through and in dire need of changing. When she picked them off her skin, the scab that had started to form underneath came off with them - revealing an oozing gash surrounded by blackened skin. Alice didn't flinch though, still choking on sobs whilst continuing to peel off every external layer from her body.

John poured hot water into the tub and quickly put another pot on to boil before going back to his wife and wrapping his arms around her, stopping her from pulling off her final layer of clothing. Instantly, she melted into his chest, and continued to cry with no restriction.

"Darling, darling, it's alright." John cooed, though his tone was laced with tense stress. He didn't know if he could believe his own words; slightly uncertain of the reason for his wife's upset. For the three hours she'd spent out of the house, all he'd been able to do was sit in the living room and chain smoke; waiting to see the lights of Arthur's car come back down the road, worrying silently.

In his worries, he'd pictured many a bad end to the night - some that he'd had to violently shake from his head and find a distraction to stop thinking about. Despite that, he'd still held onto some hope that Alice would somehow come home healed. Of course that didn't happen. It was ridiculous to think it would. The anger for himself that had previously subsided slightly by her unlikely forgiveness was back in full swing, festering in his gut.

Out the corner of his eye, he spotted the steam coming from the pot and slowly removed himself from her, her tightly gripped fingers loosening from his shirt with hesitation.

"I'm just making the bath, I'll be right here." He whispered as he finally pulled away, placing a kiss on her head.

As he poured the hot water into the tub, then turned to fill the pot with cold water to mediate the temperature, Alice looked up at the steam rising from the tub and moved over to it automatically. Heat radiated from the metal basin and she knew from experience just how hot the water could be - an un-messy, easy pain. Even with her husband right behind her, it called to her, and so she quickly put her arm into the tub, letting out a small gasp at the sudden heat before exhaling a breath of satisfaction. It had been a while since she'd properly hurt herself, and although this heat was mildly uncomfortable, it wasn't enough. Hardly something she'd describe as hurt. She was submerged for only a few seconds anyway, swiftly pulling her arm out as John twisted around to pour in the cold water.

"I saw that. You're lucky it's not as hot as it can get." He tutted before bending down beside her.

Like clockwork, she sunk into his body again, still crying - though with slightly less intensity than she had been - and John's insides felt a sharp pang. He wanted to ask her why she'd just so desperately committed a minor act of self harm, looking at her already marked up arm which was now faintly red, but he knew there was no point. No matter how many times she'd tried to explain it, he just couldn't understand.

"I'm sorry." She finally spoke, voice trembling, and then repeated herself "I'm sorry."

John sighed, holding her porcelain body, and gently kissed the back of her head.

"It's alright, darling. Let's get you clean and get into bed." He whispered.

Alice climbed into the tub, gripping onto its sides as she lowered her body into the heat. It almost instantly relaxed her tense bones, her hair splaying out like the petals of a flower around her head and the water turning marbled red. Her chest still rocked with occasional sobs, but her mouth stopped opening to wail, and her eyes dried up enough so she could see straight again. Soon she was sat up, long hair sticking to the sides of her face and neck, delicately scrubbing herself whilst John watched, sat beside her on the floor.

It was simple tasks like this in which she seemed so graceful to him, her slender fingers slowly tracing up and down her limbs in a fixed line whilst her lips pouted in numb concentration. Even with the puffy and bruised face, she looked like an angel in disguise; too beautiful to belong in such a dull place.

"What happened then?" John asked, slowly moving to rub her back. "Judging from all that blood, you both look like you must've done a lot of damage."

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't undo anything." Alice answered with a sniffle, her throat raspy.

"Well no, but... it makes things kind of even. Doesn't it?"

"Does it?" She scoffed. "I'm never going to see my family again. I'm always going to be tainted and dirty because of him-"

"You're not those things, darling." John cooed, interrupting her, but she continued in her quietly upset tone.

"I stuffed his mouth with his own cock. I've always wanted to do that. But it's not enough. What can I do that's worse than that? Nothing."

John pondered on the image for a moment, uncomfortable with how comfortable he was with it. He didn't have to try hard to imagine it - just remembering the night with David in The Garrison. Any blood being spilled from or by his wife was an unpleasant notion, and although both of those men deserved it, John would've much preferred to be the one doing it. However, when it came to Jones he wasn't going to stop her. Torn between the stress of allowing her to indulge in her dark urges and satisfaction of giving her her well earned revenge, he decided the latter was an easier side to go with.

"Just kill the cunt then. I know you think that's too kind, but he's going straight to hell, Alice. He don't deserve to be fucking breathing right now." John spoke firmly but quietly.

She took a deep breath and sighed before quietly replying in a bitter tone "And then what?"

"And then he's gone - gone forever. And everything will be fine. Never have to speak of him again." He replied soothingly, making patterns in the water with one of his fingers whilst the other hand massaged a lesser bruised part of her back lightly.

"That's not how it works John and you know it."

"Sure it does-"

"Well the war is over. Gone forever. Has that made everything fine in your head?" She interrupted him, her bottom lip still trembling.

John sighed, knowing she was right but wishing she wasn't.

"What else do you want me to say, Alice? I just want you to feel good again. It seems like ever since we got married all I've done is fuck things up."

"That's not true." Alice demanded, though barely above a whisper. "You saved me."

"Well then let me continue to save you." Despite his certain tone it was clearly a plea "We'll kill him, get it over with, and never utter the name again. And when the memories are bad, I will hold you, and do the best I can to make them stop. I promise."

Alice thought on his words for a moment, so tired but so besotted, and let out a sigh.

"You're the favourite thing in my whole world. I love you like no other." She said lowly, struggling to muster the energy to match her enthusiasm to her words.

"Really? Your favourite thing?" John half scoffed, gently stroking her cheek with an awe struck expression.

"Of course. You might piss me off sometimes, but you're mine. And I'm lucky to have you."

John beamed down at her, moving so that his face was right next to hers, although her gaze remained numbly on the ripples in the water. She peaked up at him for a second, brown latching onto the blue, before quickly pulling away, blushing shyly.

"You're so sweet." John said in a low, raspy tone, moving a finger to gently lift up her chin. "Do you wanna look me in the eyes and repeat that."

"Shut up." She held back a smile, blinking away the final tears that remained as she fought against John's hand, gaze still fixed on the water.

"Comee onnn, darling." He teased, getting closer. "My beautiful, beautiful babe."

"Fine." She turned to him with an eye roll, though it was quickly subsided by her upturned lips as she internally melted at his gaze. "You're an idiot. But you're mine and I love you."

John leant in and planted a soft kiss on her lips at that, hovering near her face for a moment after with a satisfied grin.

"I love you too. You're mine. Only mine-" He whispered, Alice's lips suddenly crashing into his before he could continue his sentence.

She kissed him like he was oxygen, holding his head in her hands as she leaned into him; the familiar flavour of his lips tasting like heaven against the faint remanence of whisky on hers. John was quick to sink into it, gently tonguing her soft, pink mouth, and then chuckling lightly when she eventually pulled away.

"What was that about? You ain't kissed me like that all week."

"Because you've been annoying me." She mumbled.

John let out a breath though he still unconsciously smiled, eyes sparkling as he looked adoringly at his wife.

"I know. I'm sorry."

A second of silence passed before Alice decided to speak her mind again.

"Speaking of - where did you even hide the big knives and why? You do realise that if I'm cutting myself it's going to be with a little blade, right?"

John stared at his wife in shocked disbelief for a moment before letting out a throaty laugh, to which Alice joined with one of her own.

"Jesus, you are fucked up. I put them in the back office, underneath Arthur's desk. Didn't tell him I was doing it either so I imagine he's confused."

"Probably. If he even notices."

"Yeah." John agreed. "Bloody mess he is."

"He didn't seem too bad tonight to be fair. And it's good of him to have taken us, even if his driving ain't the best."

"I know. Annoys me though he does."

"So do Finn and Tommy. You probably annoy them all too."

"Alright missy. Bloody hell." John chuckled. "You're on one now aren't you?"

Alice let out a small giggle at his teasing smile.

"We should probably be getting to bed anyway. Mindy's waiting int' she."

"Shit you're right." Alice shot up out of the bath, unintentionally letting out a pained hiss at the pressure on her ribs that came with the sudden movement.

She declined the offer to help that shortly came from John's mouth, but he did it anyway, scooping her body up in his arms and carrying her upstairs.

"You need to be on bed rest. At least let your foot heal." John had said lovingly, earning a playful scoff from his wife.

"Because I did soo much rest that last time, didn't I?"

"You were the one begging for it."

"Oh please. You wish." Alice rolled her eyes, although they had both knowingly been equally guilty.

When he then gently placed her onto the bed, towel falling loosely from her chest, she gripped his collar and pulled him downwards, a seductive smirk on her lips.

"You should see if you can make me beg again."

John's eyes widened in surprise, a nervous lump forming in his throat as his cock twitched.

"But.. y-your... are you sure?"

This was not the end to the night he'd envisioned at all. No - it had been over two weeks since they'd last laid together and Alice was soon brought to tears before it could even get heavy. Did she really mean it now? Or was she just trying to please him? Was this some extreme reaction to the trauma that they would later regret? Or did she really feel better?

"John, I'm serious. I feel good. Like a weight has been lifted... I want you."

"But your ribs.. and your hand and.. everything."

"We'll just be careful won't we? Like we were before."

"Are you sure? You were just crying. I don't wanna accidentally upset anything, darling."

"John, you know how my mood is. One minute it's up the next it's down. I don't even understand it."

"You're gonna be a nightmare when you're carrying my baby."

"You wanna find out?"

It didn't take much more convincing to get the man naked, enthralled and ravenous for her body as soon as he knew it was okay to be. When they'd finished, wrapped up in a panting mess, they both sat with relieved smiles on their faces, staring up at a ceiling as they considered that maybe - just maybe - John's plan had worked out for the best after all.

The next morning, John arose early whilst Alice stayed in a heavy slumber, her bones heavy with morphine and head heavy from drink. Mindy didn't stir either, not even as John clattered about in the kitchen in an attempt to make breakfast for the girls. He wouldn't usually resign himself to such a woman's role, but those two had earned it he thought to himself. "Lord knows they both deserve rest and Mindy could certainly do with some more meat on her bones."

As he cooked eggs, the warm morning light illuminating the small kitchen space in a way that could only make him think of his wife, he felt content. Once he'd set up the finished plates on the dining table, he first moved to wake up Mindy, considering she was downstairs already.

The tiny girl jumped up at the sound of his deep, male voice, and her eyes filled with fear for a moment until she recognised John. It was a familiar fear, one that he'd seen in Alice's face plenty of times, and it ached his gut to see it on another woman's. But the smile that soon pulled at her lips upon the word 'breakfast' erased any of that previous negativity, amusing John as she raced to the table - unbothered by anything other than food.

"She is a funny one." He thought to himself before heading up the stairs, prepared to have to put in slightly more effort to wake Alice up.

John gently shook her shoulder, a low groan falling from her mouth in response that made him chuckle.

"Noo."

"Come on darling. It's time to get up."

"Five minutes." She grumbled.

"Your eggs will get cold."

Alice's eyes opened slightly at that.

"You made eggs?"

John smiled. "Yeah, well I tried, they're a bit burnt."

"Oh, John you are so sweet."

"Am I?"

"The sweetest!" She giggled, suddenly stretching her arms out to pull him close to her and kissing his lips. "I love you so much."

"Maybe I should start making eggs every morning. I didn't know it would make you this happy." He chuckled back, kissing her gently before sitting up straight. "Come on before Mindy eats it all. She ran into that kitchen like a dog whose been starved.”

"You're right." Alice agreed, forcing herself up. She hissed in pain at the movement, causing John to bend to her side again, but she swiftly pushed her body from the bed and stood up, wobbling on her good foot.

"Fuck me, my head is groggy."

"Well you shouldn't mix your morphine and your drink. I'm surprised you were even able to hold a conversation last night."

"I'd barely had any morph. Just a few shots of whiskey... maybe a bottle." She argued, though a teasing smile lined her words. "And besides, you love the stuff."

"I might indulge in them separately from time to time."

"You can hardly hack it though."

John rolled his eyes, his lips puckered in slight amusement, before scooping his wife up bridal style into his arms. She shrieked though showed no resistance, leaning into his chest with a laugh.

"At least I can walk properly. You bloody pirate. I ought to start calling you peg leg." He returned.

"I can walk! You just love to carry me about!"

"I can't deny that. I do like you being in my arms."

"Cheese monger." She teased. "I ought to call you third leg."

"You recon?" He raised his brow.

"You know it."

"Yeah.. feels nice to hear you say it though."

She placed one more kiss on his face before he placed her down, the smell of the cooking instantly having her stomach rumbling.

"Morning!" Mindy called with a mouthful, her plate nearly empty.

"Morning. How you feeling?" Alice smiled.

"I'm hanging to be honest. How about you?"

"I feel alright actually. Lighter than usual."

"Well I'm glad to hear that. I was worried after last night. Thought maybe it hadn't been good for you after all."

John, despite his casual demeanour, was intently listening to Alice's response to this - feeling a similar way to Mindy.

The brunette ate a big mouthful of her scrambled eggs before answering, her eyes resting on the plate.

"Actually, I don't think I want to put any more energy into him. Ever again. I think.. I think I've done all I can. I think I'm done with it all.. I think I'm happy with that."

Neither expected that response, their eyes widening as Alice looked up and gazed back at them, quickly settling on John.

"And I think you should kill him."

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow, his fork frozen in midair.

"Well yes. You are my husband after all. I feel like it fits nicely. And I know you're itching to do it. Ever since I first mentioned him. Before you even knew his name." Her tone almost sound amused, so certain and content she was. It was an unfamiliar calmness from the woman, but nonetheless a welcomed difference from both her and her husband. John felt a stir of pride in his chest as he watched her speak, the words meaning less than the glow on her face. How far she had come.

Mindy could also sense the importance of the moment, grinning up between her friend and her husband with an awe filled expression.

"Alice, are you sure? I thought you wanted the kill. You deserve it." John swallowed, looking for any clue of denial in his wife's features. But there was none.

"I've slept on it. I'm certain."

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traumadumpwriter · 24 days ago

Text

Ummm… dark outer banks never land AU with Rafe or JJ as Peter Pan….. did I just come up with something??

#am i delusional?#outer banks au #dark fanfiction #fanfiction blog #jj maybank obx #Rafe Cameron

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traumadumpwriter · 24 days ago

Text

Fucking Two Bad Bitches At The Same Damn Time

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traumadumpwriter · 24 days ago

Note

hmm reader riding jj/rates abs maybe?? and he’s just in awe of how she looks while doing it

lessons

rafe cameron x reader

warnings: established relationship, dom/sub dynamic, degrading, ab riding (duh), orgasm denial, unprotected piv, sickeningly in love rafe (even balls deep), not proofread sorry pookies

wc: 1.7k

a/n: save a horse, ride a rafe.

rafe cameron masterlist

You thought it’d be a cute little surprise for Rafe.

You thought you’d skip the panties under your dress, for dinner with new buyers.

When Rafe had worked out your little cocktail dress was barely covering your bare cunt, you immediately knew you’d made a mistake.

His eyes shifted from their normal gaze of blue seas, to almost pitch black hunger vibrating through your soul.

A phone call and a bullshit excuse later, he had you in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, white knuckling the steering wheel with one hand, your thigh in a death grip in the other.

He refused to talk to you.

His eyes were on the road, because he knew that one glance would be all it took to pull over and rail you across the hood. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to punish you. He hated you challenging his authority, and he was going to make sure you know who is in charge.

Which leads you here, on his lap, hands tight on your waist.

Your lips are pressed against his neck, your core leaving a wet spot on his otherwise pristine trousers. But he’s not giving you the satisfaction of giving anything back. He’s cocky, enjoying watching you throw yourself all over him.

That signature smirk. That careless, I-know-I’m-hot, smirk lingers on his lips, only growing wider when your hands reach for his belt buckle. His hands fly from your waist to your wrists, dragging them up to his bare chest.

‘Nah,’ he drawls tauntingly, ‘You don’t get to touch me.’ He guides your palms to rest flat against his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. Slow and steady. You were sure Rafe could practically hear your heartbeat, and his opposing calmness was intimidating.

You begin to shift down, trying to get more friction on his thigh, like you’ve done so many times before. Rafe isn’t having it. His hands are firm on your hips as he holds you on his clothed cock, a menacing tut coming from his filthy mouth.

Your lips are anywhere he’s allowing you. His neck, his jaw, his ears, his collarbone, chest, shoulders. Even his lips, although he won’t give you the satisfaction of kissing back.

‘You wanted to be a brat,’ he rumbles, his voice low and gravelly, ‘You don’t get anything. Not my mouth. Not my cock. Not my hands. Not even my fuckin’ thigh.’ There’s a desperation that pools in your eyes that makes Rafe’s smirk deepen.

He fucking loves it.

‘You don’t get to wind me up and expect a reward, baby,’ he coos, his hand slipping soothingly into your hair before tugging roughly, forcing your head up to lock eyes with him. His dominance always had you a whining mess.

‘Please, Rafe,’ you whimper out, the friction from his covered boner beneath you lacking the warmth you really craved. He laughs, low and huskily, his hands shifting to your thighs, pulling you up his torso as he leans back further into the sofa.

‘If you’re that desperate,’ he leans in, lips impossibly close to the pulse thrumming in your neck, ‘Do it yourself. Right here.’ He settles you down onto his prominent abs, a shit-eating grin on his lips.

The warmth between your legs instantly sends sparks through your whole body, causing you to let out a soft moan. Rafe tugs your dress down, just enough to free your tits. It takes every inch of his restraint to not suck on them, but he’s determined to punish you.

‘Show me what happens when you act like a slut.’

Your hips begin to rock against his rock-hard abs, leaving a path of wetness in your wake.

He leans back, throwing his hands behind his head. Of course he loves kicking back and watching you ride his toned body. But his hands are behind his head so he doesn’t just cave and touch every perfect inch of you.

You keep grinding, slow and shaky now. He’s smirking like the devil, but there’s a twitch in his jaw that’s becoming more evident with each stroke of your wet cunt against his skin. There’s a flicker in his eyes.

Something is shifting.

Your head falls back, missing his grip in your hair. Your lips part, moaning his name like it’s the only word in the dictionary. You wish you felt shame, surrendering yourself to him like his own little freak show.

But all you feel is how tight that coil has gotten in your stomach, without him even needing to touch you.

‘Rafe,’ you gasp, breath hitching, ‘I’m so close, fuck–’ You try to chase the friction faster, but his abs shift under you. A deliberate flex. He’s fucking with you. He’s watching you like the most intriguing movie he’s ever seen.

‘Look at you,’ he laughs under his breath, fighting to keep his control, ‘Grindin’ like a bitch in heat.’ He lets out a shaky breath, and you know he’s falling apart just as violently as you. You’re flushed, desperate and trembling above him.

All he can think about is how fucking pretty you are.

Your thighs shake around his torso, your tits bouncing slightly with every grind. Your nails dig into his shoulders like you’re clinging onto him for your life. Your whole body is chasing pleasure like you’ll die without it.

And suddenly, he can’t look away.

‘I need–’ you begin to sputter out, but he already sees the look on your face. He knows exactly what you need, and looking like an angel above him is pushing him towards giving it to you right now.

‘You need what, baby?’

‘I need you to touch me,’ you whine, your cunt begging for something to release on. Sure, his abs felt like heaven, but you felt empty without him inside you.

‘Should’ve thought about that before you left the house with this pretty little pussy bare,’ he snaps, suddenly colder than his residing smugness. ‘You were real confident then, baby. All eyes on you like you wanted them to see.’

His eyes trail down to your perfect core, making an absolute fucking mess on his stomach. Your head is shaking frantically now, your mind obsessed with reaching your climax.

‘I’m sorry–I–I thought you’d like it,’ your eyes begin to sting, the sensation becoming all too much and not enough all at once. You’re begging now, and for a moment, Rafe’s smirk falters.

‘So fuckin’ pretty when you beg.’

He’s not even thinking about your punishment anymore. He’s thinking about the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer, every time your clit catches just right against his abs. The way your eyes are completely glazed over, ruined for him.

You feel your heat begin to drip down your thighs, leaking around Rafe’s waist, and his eyelids grow heavy. His whole attention is on you, wondering how the fuck he got so lucky.

‘Look at you,’ he coos, his hand instinctively coming to rest on your waist. Not for control, but because he needs it, ‘You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me. You don’t even know.’

You’re gasping now, practically sobbing from the friction and the denial and the pressure building deep in your core. Rafe’s well trained to notice all your little cues. He sees the way your body is about to snap.

He sees the way you’re riding like you’re ready to fall apart without his permission.

‘I can feel how close you are, baby,’ he encourages, a hand coming up to tweak your stiff nipples. ‘You’re shaking so bad–fuck–look at you,’ he says, voice shaking like his restraint. You moan his name like it’s salvation, and that’s all it takes.

His grip on your waist and tit tightens, his jaw clenching, ‘Fuck this,’ he growls, sitting up and capturing your lips in a messy kiss. It’s hot and heavy, his hands working to unzip your dress with expert precision.

‘I need to be inside you,’ he groans.

‘Right fuckin’ now.’

He’s flipped you over in a heartbeat, belt buckle clanking as it slaps against the floor. He’s inside you with a sharp, unexpected thrust, hands digging into your hips like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.

It’s almost instantly you release, your pussy’s prayers having been answered in the most satisfying way. He feels you clamp down around him, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from just filling you up at the sight of you trembling beneath him.

Your body is on fire, every last nerve ending hot, and willing to do absolutely anything for him. He takes the air from your lungs as your release fizzles out around him, and he pushes your face into the sofa, his torso wrapping around your back.

He’s so much deeper now, every inch felt deep in your stomach. You begin to twitch, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. But Rafe doesn’t care. He needs you. And he needs you right now.

‘You think I can watch you cum like that and not lose it?’ he growls into your throat, lips locking on for a tantalizing bite.

‘You fuckin’ ruin me, you know that?’

Every thrust is wild, frantic and hungry. It’s not long before you’re teetering on the edge again, and he feels it. He feels how tight you’re gripping him. He gives you one last thrust, burying his cock as deep as possible.

You feel his dick begin to twitch inside you, jolting forward slightly as he paints your insides with the most intense load either of you have ever felt. The friction sends you over the edge, sucking every last drop out of him as your orgasm ripples through you.

He holds your ass tightly, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as you pulse around him, the sweet sound of your moan making him melt into your touch.

You’re both a mess of sweat, sex and adoration as you begin to float back to reality, Rafe’s head falling to your shoulder. He presses delicate kisses against the bare skin there, a stark contrast to his demanding presence just a second earlier.

‘I love you. So fuckin’ much.’

‘I love you too, Rafe.’

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