#but you best believe that i will eventually

[zyafics]

play fake | part ten

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a girlfriend in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content series, 18+, eventual smut, angst, jealousy, fake dating trope, ward cameron being a bad father, rafe and sarah rivalry — reader type hyper-independent, people pleaser, smart mouth, stands on business, mysterious past — rafe's characterization insecure, possessive + jealous person, asshole, mood swings

"You're starting to piss me off, Top."

Rafe's agitated. For the past couple hours, he's been in a back-and-forth with his father, talking about the prospects and future of Cameron Development. He hasn't heard anything bad about him, which is an improvement from their last meeting, but he hasn't heard anything good either. It's as if the moment Sarah came back to the picture, Ward Cameron forfeits all care regarding his eldest son.

He needs a break. But he hasn't been able to contact you. After Topper sent him a vaguely-urgent text to come over, Rafe arrives at the Thornton estate with better expectations.

"Me?" Topper gestures to himself, appalled by the declaration. "I'm trying to be a good friend here and help you out."

"By what? Lying?" Rafe snaps, getting a minor migraine due to the music blasting from the inside of the house. This, in combination to the smell of weed and alcohol wafting through the air, isn't helping his journey towards sobriety. "Was this some pathetic attempt to get me to your party?"

"I wasn't lying, I swear to you, man, I saw—"

His words were cut short by a powerful thump. It causes everyone in the room to turn and when Rafe follows, instead of discovering the source, he finds you.

His brows immediately draw together as he takes you in. Disbelief crowning his features. The look on your face is pure panic, as if you didn't expect to see him here. He wants to ask for the reason, the words on the tip of his tongue, but when his eyes finally drop to find a man's hand wrapped around your wrist—it finally registers that you are with someone.

What the fuck are you doing?

Rafe doesn't say anything at first. With a clear mind, he's taking everything in and processing. For once in his life, he doesn't jump to wild assumptions and stew in his own jealousy. He has you to thank for that.

Because Rafe trusts you. He doesn't believe this could be some romantic fluke you're trying to get with. It can't be. With a tilt of his head, almost indiscernible to the rest of the public, he seeks inquiry from you. Your lips part but no words came through.

The Kook beside you—who he recognizes as Garrison from the Island Club—pulls you towards the sitting lounge on the back porch, furnished with wicker sofas and chairs, and settles down at one of the unoccupied seats. You land on the soft cushion with a thud, facing forward, intentionally avoiding his gaze.

Rafe scoffs.

He steps away from his conversation with Topper, not needing to acknowledge the smug look on his best friend's face, before rounding the furniture to stand in front of your date.

"Move." Rafe commands, his voice low and rough, but held enough authority to make the Kook lift his head.

"There's a spot right there," Garrison points to the opposite chair, but Rafe doesn't entertain the suggestion.

"I didn't ask. I said move."

"No." Garrison grumbles stubbornly, leaning back against the backrest and placing a hand over your exposed thigh, a product of your short work attire. Rafe notices your muscles stiffening under the Kook's touch but you don't push him away as he expected you to.

His expression sharp, his anger rising. "If you don't fucking move—"

"Rafe." You murmur, grabbing his hand. He peels his eyes off of Garrison and settles on you, taking in your pleading features, your gentle expression. You're silently asking him to not make a scene, to not do something stupid, and normally, he wouldn't obey. But something about your acknowledgement calms him. "Just take the seat."

With his lips pressed together in a thin line, Rafe reluctantly listens and takes the chair adjacent to yours.

You relax, slightly, but Rafe can tell you're still on the edge. Your leg bounces incessantly against the hardwood floor of the patio deck and you refuse to look at him. Rafe, for the life of him, can't understand why.

But he settles that it's something else. You being here, without notifying him, is something else. It has to be. That's the only thing that makes sense and is keeping him rooted in his seat right now.

"Rafe," Kelce calls out, causing his head to reluctantly turn to his other friend. He holds a beer bottle in his hand and uses it to point at you. "Isn't that your girl?"

Rafe turns back, watching the way your breath hitches in your throat, eyes squeeze shut as if you were just caught. You swallow hard, but you don't answer.

So, he'll do it for you.

"Yeah—"

"It's complicated." You interrupt, meeting Kelce's gaze, but your words firmer than they've been the entire night. This causes Rafe's chest to constrict, him watching your profile and seeing the absolute look on your face. "We're just... trying not to put a label on it."

His jaw tightens, hands drawn into white-knuckled fists. The rest of the Kooks around the patio catch wind of this tension and Kelce lets out a low, depreciating whistle. "Yikes, man."

Now, Rafe doesn't know what to think anymore.

You turn back to Garrison, keeping your voice quiet, but there's an urgency behind your words. "What are we doing here again?"

Garrison abandons his hand on your thigh to throw a lazy arm around the backrest of your seat. "Heard they were gonna smoke," he explains with a flash of a smirk, aimed and targeted at Rafe. "I figure we could take a hit."

You instantly still. "Oh, I don't—"

"You haven't drank anything all night and you don't smoke either? Tell me you know how to have some fun, sweetheart." He teases, the volume of his voice louder than the intended audience. This catches a couple of nosy Kooks to spare a glance in your direction, judgment passing through their expressions, and you go rigid.

Rafe's three seconds away from grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Garrison, but something in him says to remain seated.

"I just haven't had it in a while." You assure with a nervous laugh, leaning forward to put some distance between you and the Kook.

But he doesn't catch the signal. Garrison grins and leans over—too fucking close—to whisper in your ear. Loud enough for Rafe to hear. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Rafe figures this is some dick-measuring contest between him and Garrison; that, after his order to the Kook, it bruised his ego and he's now getting back at Rafe by talking to his girl. By reminding him that you are with him, and not Rafe.

Normally, there's no woman that made him care enough about that type of bullshit, but with you, he fucking does.

Topper and the others settle down around the lounge and start passing around the blunt. They each take a hit and spread it around counterclockwise.

Despite the reluctance, you square your shoulders in preparation to participate. Your eyes follow the lit joint with precision, waiting, anxiously trying to pull your nerves together. When Rafe's nearby neighbor hands him the blunt, he puts it to his lips and inhales a sharp breath. Holding in.

Since you're next, you meet his gaze and extend out your hand.

But it didn't go as planned.

Rafe takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and pulls you close, sliding his hand up your cheek before capturing your lips on his. He expects to be met with resistance—especially with your little date sitting next to you—but you simply melt into his touch. He takes it as a cue to exhale, and the smoke enters into your system.

Taking a step further, Rafe grab your hips, hauling you onto his lap, away from the handsy Kook that has no fucking business touching what his. All of this done in one swift motion, without breaking the kiss.

Complicated.

He fucking hates that word.

When you finally pull away, you choke up with a cough, gasping for fresh air. Rafe doesn't bother to offer you the blunt, handing it off to the next person, while you try to recover against the sleeve of his shirt.

"Really?" You say quietly, feeling his hand rested firmly against your waist. He tips his head back, meeting your gaze, and a satisfied expression settles over his face.

"You shouldn't have been with him in the first place."

"All of this for a pretend act?"

He hates that you're referring to the relationship as fake. That it still means so little to you. He doesn't let it show that it ticks him off.

"At least someone will get the message."

You don't respond, especially when he's pointedly accusing you of something you can't deny. Rafe's expression is inquisitive, waiting for you to fill in the missing gaps, on why the fuck you're with Garrison at all, but you say nothing. Own up to nothing. You simply turn away, unable to meet his confrontation.

Rafe squeezes your hips. "Sweetheart," he says with a firm warning, and despite the word coming off as a caution, you soften at the nickname. The usage spoken by its rightful owner.

You can't believe you're swooning over his possession, but you blame it on the haziness from the kiss, or the marijuana entering your body after years of discontinued use. However, deep down, you know it's something else.

That maybe it's his word and he owns you completely.

"Can we talk later?" You mumble into his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "I'm getting dizzy."

Rafe scoffs, seeing this as a blatant attempt at avoiding the question, but you bury your face into the crook of his neck, almost as if you're seeking refuge in him. He couldn't force you to speak after that.

For the next hour, you remained seated on his lap. You once tried to move off but his grip around your waist was too firm to displace and you didn't bother to attempt again. It made Rafe proud. Like whatever drew you to Garrison in the first place has ceased to exist and you returned rightfully back in his arms.

This beam of pride wasn't helped by the fact that Garrison's been glaring at Rafe. But he had no strength nor power to do anything about it. Rafe scoffs. Fucking pussy.

In the middle of the smoke session, Rafe receives a call. He pulls out his phone from his pocket to see it's from his father. With a short glance in your direction, Rafe pulls you off his lap and you claim his seat while he steps out for a moment to take it.

When he returns, you’re gone.

"Where is she?" Rafe snaps at Topper, expecting one person to have seen you leave, but his best friend was preoccupied with a girl on his arm. When Rafe calls out to him again, with a sharper tone, the blond's gaze shifts to your empty seat, and shock overrides his features.

"Fuck, man, I–I don't know," Topper stammers apologetically, but it doesn't subdue the anger rising within Rafe. His fists bundled at his side, his teeth grinding against each other. It can't be a coincidence that Garrison also happens to be missing as well.

Rafe's pissed at his best friend for not being aware, especially when Topper brought him here in the first place. But he couldn't think about that right now. He had to find you.

"You're fucking useless," Rafe growls, before descending into the crowded house. The music is louder, pinching at his nerves, and the thongs of people aren't helping him narrow down his search. But he's a head taller than most and, with a quick scan of the crowd, he knew you wouldn't be here.

Where the fuck could you be?

He looks through the rooms instead, starting at the first floor. Each time he came across a vacant space, he grew more frustrated and upset. His knuckles ache from how hard he's been clenching down, and his adrenaline is spiking. He was going to lose it if he doesn't find you soon.

Because he has ideas, and he doesn't want to think of any of them.

When Rafe ascends to the second floor, it's much quieter. Emptier. Like you couldn't possibly be here. But when he kick-opens the third door, that's where he discovers you in a bedroom with the Kook, his back sprawled out over the mattress.

You're a few feet away from Garrison, ready to abandon him, when you flinch at the sudden sound of a door slamming into the wall. You freeze. Turning, with all the colors drained from your face, you expect to be caught—perhaps by a friend of the Kook or even the cops—only to find Rafe.

You don't know if that's any better.

Before you could even blink, Rafe grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, forcing a larger distance between you and the drunken Kook knocked out on the king-sized bed.

"Leave," Rafe demands, his tone eerily calm, like the sound of a volcano bubbling before it erupts.

Garrison winces, pressing the heel of his hand into the side of his temple as he drags himself into a sitting position. "God, could you just give me a minute—"

"Leave before I fucking kill you."

The Kook, even with the copious amount of alcohol and weed in his system, wasn't stupid enough to ignore the threat. He knew Rafe’s reputation. Scrambling to his feet, he rushes out of the door.

The air in the room stills, as if all the oxygen was sucked out and all that's left is you and Rafe. His grip around your wrist hasn't loosen, firm and tight—afraid you'll leave again—and when his gaze pulls away from the door and settles onto your face, you hold your breath.

"What are you doing?"

Panic rises as a bile in your throat, constricting your airflow. You can't explain to him what you just did; how shameful you feel because of it. Instead, you deflect.

"What are you doing?" You say, trying to project a stronger voice, to make it sound normal. To pretend everything's fine when it's falling apart. "You said you were done with parties."

He can't believe you're doing this right now.

"I am," he snaps, his breathing ragged as he takes you in. See if you did anything, if there's any signs, but he finds nothing. "Top called me because he saw you at his party and you never show up to these types of things. So, let me ask you again. What are you doing?"

You don't answer.

Rafe exhales sharply, exasperation floods his features while his paranoid runs free. He knew he was going to crush your hand if he held on, so he released you, taking a step back to control himself.

"You wanna hear what I think?" Rafe prompts, his voice low and drawn-out as he begins pacing back and forth, "I think you thought I wasn't gonna be here so it would be the perfect opportunity for you to fuck some other Kook."

That's exactly what you're afraid of.

You wrap your arms around yourself, hiding. "No."

"And you thought I wouldn't find out but you forgot this is my best friend's house."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breathing rapid, as your voice grows smaller. "That's not true."

He doesn't listen, his volume escalating in anger.

"And you're talking about all this breakup shit because you're ready to jump on the next fucking dick that can get you what you want."

You shake your head frantically, wanting desperately for him to believe you, but you had nothing to give. Nothing to shelter him and soothe his insecurities.

All you had was your heart.

But you tried. "No, that's not it—"

"Then where the fuck is your necklace?"

You stumble back, the last delivery was so sharp and vicious, it's as if he struck you.

Rafe's heaving, chest caving into itself. His eyes never strays from your face as he continues to pace across the room, waiting, expecting, wanting anything you can say to calm his spiraling state of mind.

You can't.

You know what this looks like. You know exactly what this looks like. This is why you didn't want Rafe to be here. Because, on top of what seems to be Rafe Cameron's Pogue girlfriend cheating on him with another Kook—you knew it would hurt him if he saw it himself.

But you had to.

You peer up at him with a heavy gaze, and Rafe interprets it as guilt. "I know what it looks like—"

He can't fucking believe this.

He can't stand here and listen to your excuses.

Rafe crosses the room to grab your face, with such abruptness, you flinch and drop the watch. It lands on the ground with a muffled thump and all of Rafe's concerns lowers when he follows the inconspicuous sound, finding the expensive timepiece on the ground beside your feet.

His conclusion draws slowly. "Are you... stealing?"

You don't answer, with widened eyes, you pull back from Rafe's grip and take a step back with a heavy breath. You glance down at the abandoned watch and you're about to recover it—but Rafe is too fast.

He picks it up with litheness and extends it far above your head. Impossible for you to reach.

His eyes on you but they soften considerably once he realizes you weren't cheating. You were being a thief.

His command is simple and resolute. "Talk to me."

Your breath is shaky. "It's fine."

"It's fine?" He repeats, disbelief dripping from his tone. "You just stole a eight-thousand dollars watch and you're telling me it's fine?"

He can't know. He simply can't.

Rafe sees the hesitation in your expression, your lack of response, and he can't believe it. After all the things the two of you have been through, he thought he had earned enough of your trust for you to explain why. Why you're stealing. Why you didn't tell him you needed money. Why it always has to come to this fucking point where he has to confront you and pry the measliest piece of information out of you.

You don't trust him.

And it rips at his chest.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. Disappointment and regret all colliding at once. "You know what, sweetheart? For someone who demands me to talk to them all the fucking time, you sure are a hypocrite for not doing the same."

Your eyes soften. You don't attempt to contest his statement because he's right. He's absolutely right and it stings because you do trust him and you do need him—you just don't let him in.

It's worse.

"You're right." You start deliberately, feeling tears well up in your eyes but refusing to let them fall. You inhale a sharp breath, steadying your voice. "I am a hypocrite."

Rafe didn't expect you to agree so easily. It almost sounds like defeat. He doesn't know which direction this conversation is heading, but he knows he doesn't like it. He recognizes that immediately.

With his guards up, he watches you.

"I..." You stammer to find the words, your emotions overwhelming you. But you don't cry. You can't. "It's not fair to you."

Everything in his head is raising alarm bells. Something about your words makes him panic. The way your voice quavers at the delivery, the fact you're looking to the floor. You don't even seem to care about the watch anymore.

Rafe says your name.

"I think we—"

"Don't fucking say it."

"—I think we might need a break."

"No." Rafe refuses, shaking his head as his arm lowers to his side.

"Rafe, listen, I—"

"I heard what you said," he snaps, his voice raw, and you hear his own emotions lodged thickly in his throat. "I don't accept it. I don't agree. I don't..." He's stumbling to find his own words. To find his own meaning.

I don't want to lose you.

You sigh, dejected. "Rafe."

"No." He turns back to you. His blue eyes are sharp but glossy, as if he's on his own verge of tears. "All you have to do is tell me why and we can move past this. I can understand. I swear."

He's desperate. He's begging you; because if you're leaving him just for this, just because he discovers this, he'd rather you have fucked the Kook than put him in this misery. At least with that he can be angry.

But all he feels is pain.

"Just talk to me."

You exhale deeply, simply shaking your head. "I can't. It's my problem."

"Make it my problem, then."

For some reason, there's a bloom of hope. That maybe he wants you more than what he's told you. So, you try. You try this one time.

"Why, Rafe?" You ask softly. "Why do you care so much?"

Rafe looks at you, searching your face, and while he wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he can't seem to put down his pride. The idea of being vulnerable. You've done nothing but demonstrate to him that he means very little to you, that you barely let him in, and if he says it first, it means he'll get rejected first.

He can't handle that.

So he takes the easy route.

"Because we're fucking."

Your heart breaks even more.

You swallow hard. You promise yourself you wouldn't be the one seeking it out first, especially in this relationship, but you try again. You try one last time. "Is that all?"

He can't look at you when he answers. "Yeah."

You press your lips together, nodding to his confirmation. You got what you asked for: the same fear you're afraid to discover. You're going to take his words at face value because what else is there to do?

"That's what I thought."

It's too painful. To continue to stay in this room with him, after he made his feelings known. After you recognize how absolutely fucked you are regarding your own. You need to leave.

You don't say anything else as you move past him, taking the watch from his loosened grip on the way out. You stop at the doorway, staring at his broad back, hoping, silently pleading, he would turn around and change his mind and confess his feelings right there, but he doesn't.

Because he's Rafe Cameron.

And he simply doesn't have any for you.

You exit out of the door and close it behind you, needing that extra barrier of space. When you descend down the grand staircase, you hear a muffled fuck! so loud, it shakes the entire mansion. 

But you don't look back.

You just leave.

—

Once you park in the driveway, you stay in the car for the next few minutes. You just needed some time to yourself. To readjust. To figure things out.

You honestly don't know how you made it home. Your mind was on full auto-pilot the moment you stepped out of the Thornton estate, and you can't remember driving down the narrowed roads, stopping at the traffic lights. You're just here.

You know your next step should be to go inside and get some rest. You need it to wake up early tomorrow and go to a local pawn shop to trade the timepiece for cash. Even as you're dealing with the emotional fallout of you and Rafe's argument, you didn't have the time to delve into the specifics of your heart.

You need to remain focused. To stay on track. Remind yourself that you've successfully stolen a watch from a Kook—whom you don't even know the name of—and prayed all the shots you fed him would be enough for him to forget. To wake up tomorrow with black-outed memories.

This is supposed to be a victory.

Why does it feel like a hollow one?

Your fingers clutch the stolen watch in your hands. Your nails scraping across the gold-plated case, the recognition of the brand behind the thick glass. Rafe's right. This alone could afford to pay off a payment to Aaron and he would leave you alone.

You exit from your beatdown car and make the short walk to the porch. The lights inside the house were off, probably because it's so late and your sisters are off to bed.

When you stop in front of your front door, all the hair on your neck stands. Something feels off. You take a step back, hearing the familiar creak in the floorboard of your wooden porch you always avoid. That calms you down for a second. That perhaps you're overthinking it because of the fight.

You pull the keys out of your bag, and you're about to slip it through the lock, when you realize something.

The door is cracked open.

It's a small gap, almost undetectable by a passing glance, but it was enough to disengage the locks and grant full access to your house.

Your heart starts to race once you realize something is wrong and your intuition was correct. You replace the keys inside your bag, your shoulders squared and your stance on defense, before you shove the door open.

And what it reveals is a complete mess.

Furniture is flipped all over the place, broken glass scattered across the carpeted floor. The bookshelves attached to the walls have been ripped off, their decors and old books thrown all around. The screen on the TV has been kicked in, cushions have been ripped apart with fluff all over the ground, and the kitchen cabinet doors have been torn off their hinges with shattered plates.

All you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing while you take in your surroundings, blood coursing through your eardrums. It's all on you.

Before you hear a muffled wailing.

Realization dawns on you.

Your sisters.

You drop everything and run to the source, approaching their bedroom and nearly tripping over your discarded belongings in the middle of the narrowed hallway. Once you reach the room, you kick-open the door.

There you find Amara, standing in the middle of her equally-destroyed room, in absolute tears.

But Leilani is nowhere in sight.

Your panic skyrockets.

"Where's Leila?" You ask your weeping sister, her fragile voice hitched with heavy hiccups and incoherent mumbles. "Where's your sister?"

You sink to your knees in front of her, cradling her soft cheeks, shaking as you brush away her tears. "Please, Mara. Talk to me. Where's Leila? What happened?"

She offers nothing more than the frantic shake of her head. Words unable to spill from her mouth. She can't talk. She can't even stop crying. She just experienced something traumatic and you're over here drilling her for answers.

No, this is your responsibility to bear.

Knowing you won't learn anything, you rise to your feet and rush out the bedroom door, screaming out your sister's name. "Leila! Leilani! Where are you?!"

No answer. The only sound is the low hums of the broken air conditioner, and you go into your room to search. You find a similar mess: drawers pulled out, clothes all over the floor, the mattress on your bed flipped over, but nothing of the twelve-year-old girl.

Your heart is pounding viciously against your heart, so hard, you think it's going to burst. Your hands are growing clammy. Your breathing unstable.

But you can't think about that.

You check in the bathroom, the closet, any places she could be hiding and coming out completely empty. It's almost as if she disappeared.

What the fuck do you do?

It doesn't take a genius to know this is Aaron's doing. His warning. That it's nearing the end of the third day and you still haven't gotten him his money. This is him trying to scare you.

And it's working.

You can't help but think of the worst possible scenarios. Leilani is the most like you. She's growing into her own person but she mimics most of your behavior. She's cautious, and full of wonder, but she talks back without turns and she has this bleeding sense of justice you never want her to lose.

But you're afraid that same attitude you love about her is what got her into trouble. That Aaron might've caught her smart mouth and taken her as retribution.

You can't help but descend down this spiraling theory. Your breathing grows ragged and shallow, like the air is sucked from your lungs, and you swallow hard—but something hard is lodged at your throat.

You can't breathe.

You can't breathe.

You can't fucking breathe.

You run out to the living room, holding onto the walls as crutches and you fall to your knees in front of your bag, searching for your phone. Tears pricking your eyes, blurring your vision, and your fingers tremble as they attempt to type the passcode. You got it wrong twice before being granted access.

What do you do now?

Your first instinct is to call your parents, to dial up the memorized digits of your mother's and seek their help. But you can't.

Because they're dead.

You're heaving with this daunting reality that you have no one. That you can't help no one. And it's absolutely shattering.

Your heart is hurting; throbbing against the side of your skull. You hear Amara's constant sobs between the walls, echoing through the empty house, and your heart is clutched with this indescribable pain from missing Leilani—like you had a limb ripped off your body.

You can't help her. You can't even help Amara.

You can't help anyone.

"Fuck," you swear under your breath, brushing away the blurring tears in your eyes. Exhaustion bleeds through you but you’re still trying to figure this out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

You think you're going to lose it. You're going to breakdown right then and there, in the middle of your disgusting living room, cradling your phone, wishing you still had your parents. It's a rock bottom you didn't expect to have.

But then, you hear the familiar sound of a creaky floorboard.

And you raise your head.

Just to see Leilani with Rafe.

"Leila?" You breathe out, immediately standing on your wobbly knees as you rush to your little sister and cradle her face in your hands, trying to find something tangible to hold onto, before letting out the largest sigh of relief.

She's okay.

Other than a small cut on her forehead, she looks to be in perfect health. She's here, in your hands, alive, and not taken hostage. That's honestly all you could have asked for.

But something in her expression boosts an edge of concern. Not for herself, but for you. You hate the look in her eyes, as if the roles were reversed and she had to be taking care of you.

You refuse to crack. You have to remain strong. For them.

Pulling back, you finally turn to acknowledge Rafe. He stands beside your sister, silently observing this entire interaction, saying nothing, offering nothing.

You don't know how they ended up together, or why, but you were glad she was safe. That she was with him.

And honestly, you're glad he's here.

You don't say anything, staring up to him with this timid, hopeless look, and his heart fucking shatters. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so scared, so afraid of yourself. It's like he's meeting a version of you he didn't know existed.

And it absolutely kills him.

"Baby..." Rafe says with such tenderness, with such care, as if you didn't have the worst fight of your life an hour prior. As if you didn't have your own heart broken by the same man. For some reason, this offer of gentleness is the very proof that you've been broken.

So you break.

And fall right into his arms.

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[moonchild9350]

Please Can I?

Summary: You and Minho have been best friends for a while and life has been great until one fateful movie night.

Pairing: idol dom Minho x fem reader (Hyunjin, Jisung, and Changbin make an appearance)

Genre: smut, friends to lovers- 18+ sooo MDNI please

Word Count: 4321

Warnings: cursing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), edging, denied orgasm, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up), voyeurism, masturbation.

Note: All my biases in one fic? yes please! I hope you like it!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :) Let me know if you would like a part 2!

This is in no way how the boys are in reality. This is only for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You and Minho had been friends for years, best friends even.  You met at a dance intensive, both of you being in the same class.  Minho was there to get some extra instruction so he could do his best for the band he was in.  You, however, were only there for fun.  You had been dancing since you were little and just loved the hobby, therefore, continuing into adulthood.  The dance instructor had just dismissed everyone for a break, when you bumped into Minho.  You couldn;t help but stare at him.  He was gorgeous, which was honestly an understatement, with chocolate brown eyes, wavy hair, and the cutest freckle on his nose.  

“Are you ok?” Minho asked, steadying you, as you were about to topple over.  “Hmmhmm” you said, “sorry about that.” Minho smiled, shaking his head while saying, “no worries kitten.” Kitten, he called you kitten.  You swooned at this man even more.  Minho eyed you carefully, giving you a once over.  “Would you like to practice together sometime? I saw you dance and you’re really good.”  

‘This gorgeous man is asking me if i want to practice with him, oh my god, don’t panic, don’t panic.’  You were having an internal dialog with yourself, not realizing you never answered Minho’s question.  Minho cleared his throat, giving you a look of concern.  You snapped out of your thoughts, “Oh, um, sure.  I’d love that!”  Minho chuckled, “Great! Let’s plan for a day after practice.” You nodded your head still not believing your luck.  Before you could say anything else, the dance instructor came back in the practice room, declaring break time over.

The first time practicing with Minho was amazing.  You loved watching him move his body, he was graceful with his movements, kind of like a cat.  You found yourself joining in on many dance sessions with Minho, both of you growing closer with each passing day.  You found yourself reaching out to him more and more, with Minho doing the same.  You eventually found out he was a part of a band, a popular one at that. Eventually, he introduced you to his bandmates and with time you became friends with them too. 

Despite the busy schedule and sometimes long absences due to tours and other events, your friendship with Minho grew deeper.  You were both very fond of each other. iHowever, there was one slight problem.  Yes, you were best friends and would do anything for each other, the only problem was, you had fallen in love with Minho.  You never said anything to him about your feelings, happy that your friendship was going well, not wanting to mess that up with messy feelings.  You decided you would just toss those feelings aside and focus on your friendship.

Minho was coming over to your apartment after rehearsal, some of the other bandmates joining in a little later. The agenda of the night was movie night.  Minho came over frequently, you two feeling so comfortable with each other that he even stayed the night sometimes.  He stayed over so frequently that he left some of his things at your place, that way he wouldn’t have to lug an overnight bag with him everytime he came over.  He even slept in your bed, often the two of you cuddling into the night, comfortable in each other’s embrace.  You loved feeling close to Minho, his arms wrapped around you as you laid in bed together, talking about anything and everything.  You loved how he would tuck your head into his neck and rest his head on top of your hair as you two fell asleep.  Was it good for your heart? No, but nothing to you was a good enough reason to stop this tirade.  

You heard the key rattle in the lock signaling that Minho had arrived.  Yes, Minho had a key to your apartment.  It was easier that way and plus he was your bestfriend so why not.  You heard him set his keys down on the hallway table, “Hey y/n.”  You turned in your spot on the couch, looking at Minho.  “Hey Min.  How was practice?” 

“Too long,” he giggled, “was dying to get here so I can relax and we can watch that new movie!” You smiled at this, knowing that the movie that you guys planned to watch was one Minho has been wanting to watch for a long time.  “Will your wish will come true,” you replied.  “Hurry up and shower so we can start! What time are the others coming over again?” Minho nodded and said, “much later tonight if that is still ok.  They had to finish some last minute things at the studio.”  He then made his way to your bathroom to shower.  

Thirty minutes later, Minho came out of your room, hair still wet from his shower, and wearing a t-shirt and sweats.  You tried not to ogle at him, you really did, but it was hard to do with him standing in front of you in all his glory.  “Kitten move over.”  You realized he was speaking to you.  You scooted over, making room for the man.  Minho took your legs and draped them over his lap.  He then grabbed the blanket you had and rearranged it so it could drape over both of you.  “Ok, I’m ready, let’s start this.  I’m so excited to watch this.” Minho said.  You chuckled at his outburst and pressed play.

Everything was going well, the movie was actually really good, filled with lots of action scenes.  However, what you didn’t expect was the romance scenes that popped up every now and then.  You watched as the couple on screen would hold each other and kiss, which wasn’t all that terrible.  You could handle a few kissing scenes, and being snuggled up to your crush.  Yeah, you would be fine.  But, what you definitely did not expect was the sex scene that came later in the movie.  The man was pleasuring the woman on screen, running his hands up and down her body, giving special attention to her breasts.  You couldn’t help but wonder how that would feel with Minho.  Would he drag his hands all soft and gentle down your body, gently giving your breast a squeeze before lightly brushing across your nipple? Or would he be more forceful, grazing his hand over the mounds before roughly pinching your nipple causing pleasure to shoot up your spine.  You tried to shake these thoughts from your head, but to no avail.  

Minho could tell something was off with you, but he didn’t say anything.  He knew you would tell him whatever was on your mind in time.  He just kept watching the movie, absentmindedly rubbing your leg that was on his lap every now and then.  You were definitely aware of this, each touch of his causing you to internally shiver.  Each touch Minho gave you went straight to your cunt, which was dripping at this point, soaking you panties.  You tried to pay attention to the movie, at how the couple on screen were going at it like bunnies, the woman’s breasts bouncing up and down as she rode the man, his head tossed back in pleasure.  You mind wondered once more, thinking of how Minho would look as you rode him.  Would he smirk at you while he guided you over his cock? Would he scrunch up his cute little nose, with the cute little freckle, as you gave him pleasure, causing his mouth to open, showing his bunny teeth as he moaned out.  You were brought out of your reverie by Minho pinching your leg and then rubbing it again.  You couldn’t help but let out a little whimper.  You froze, staring straight ahead, hoping Minho didn’t hear your little moan.  

Little did you know, Minho did hear your moan. It was really quiet, barely audible, but he heard it.  He thought you sounded heavenly.  Honestly, he wished he could have you.  He’s wanted you for so long, but he didn’t want to blur the lines of your friendship.  He highly doubted you wanted him in that way either, that is until this moment when he heard your moan after he pinched and rubbed your leg.  He looked at you through the corner of his eye.  He could see the blush on your cheeks and ears as you stared straight ahead at the tv.  He didn’t think you were watching the movie, or if you were, you weren’t really giving it your full attention.  He thinks he knows why and he hopes to god he’s right.  

The scene ended, flashing back to another action scene.  You breathed out a sigh of relief.  Now you could focus on the rest of the movie and not Minho’s hand on your leg, or the fact that you actually whimpered when he touched you, or that your panties were soaked, staining your flimsy pj shorts.  That was your hope at least.  You were surprised when you found yourself actually intrigued with the rest of the movie, it having a happy ending.  You watched as the screen faded to black and the end credits started to roll.  “That was a good movie Min, good pick!” you said, trying to forget the not so nice thoughts that had run through your head while watching.  Minho hummed at your critique. “It was, wasn’t it.  They did well with all those action scenes.”  You nodded your head in agreement.  Minho untangled the blanket from your legs, giving them a pat before removing them from his lap.  “Bed before the guys come?” he asked, “we can watch more tv there.”  “Okay,” you said.  You weren’t sure why you were nervous. You had slept in bed with Minho many times before, why should this be any different?

You shook your head to get rid of your thoughts before getting up and following Minho to your bedroom.  He tossed the covers back and snuggled in, opening his arms so you could come cuddle with him.  You obliged, sliding under the covers and scooting next to Minho.  He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in close, just like he always did.  You felt your heartbeat quicken, hyper aware of how close you were to him.  “Go ahead and pick a show to watch,” he said to you.  You picked up the remote, scrolling through the options before settling on a comedy.  You rested in his arms, feeling truly at home.  You were warm and felt safe and before you knew it you were starting to drift off.

“Y/n?” Minho asked.  You opened your eyes and looked at him.  “Why did you moan after I pinched your leg earlier?”  You held your breath at his question.  You couldn’t believe it.  He did hear you.  You felt embarrassed and felt the heat rise to your face.  

“Ummm….I….I’m not sure.”  You wanted to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.  Why couldn’t you control yourself? Why did you have to be so horny that just a pinch on the leg caused you to moan like a dog in heat?

Minho thought for a moment.  “It wasn’t because of that sex scene on tv right? Did you get turned on from that?  Surely it’s not from the fact that I pinched your leg?” You froze in your spot, heart beating so fast, you were surprised Minho couldn’t hear it.  “You want to know what I think?” Minho began.  “I think you liked it, liked how I pinched your leg and then rubbed the pain away.  I think you were thinking dirty thoughts, kitten.  Wanna tell me what you were thinking?  Don’t be shy, you tell me everything, right?”  You were at a loss at what to say.  He was right, you did tell him everything, no matter how obscene or crazy it was.  

You cleared your throat before quietly saying, “I was umm, I was thinking dirty thoughts.”  Minho smiled at the confession, giving your arm a squeeze.  “Tell me what you were thinking, kitten.  I wanna hear about it.”  You paused for a moment, not sure if you should tell him.  If you did, it would probably change the dynamic in your relationship.  But, what if you did tell him and it didn't.  What if he feels the same way about you? You made a decision and said,” I was thinking about you Min.”

“Yeah? What about me?”  You cleared your throat, “I was thinking about how it would…how it would feel to be with you Min.”  

“To be with me? In what way?” Minho pushed.  “To be with you in that way, Min.  To give you all of me.”  Minho lifted your head by the chin so you could look him in the eyes.  “My kitten has been having some dirty thoughts hmm? What should we do with you?” You just stared at Minho, not sure what to do or say.  It felt like minutes had passed when it was really just a second or two.  You watched as Minho looked down at your lips as he said, “What if I was thinking about you in that way too?”  At that he leaned down to press his lips against yours.  It was a feather light kiss, his lips brushing lightly against yours.  “Is this okay, kitten? Tell me now, I will stop if you want me to.”  You whispered against his lips, “please, please kiss me Min.”  

That was all he needed to hear.  Minho crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you closer to his body.  You let out a whimper, deepening the kiss.  Minho brushed his tongue across your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in.  He moaned out, grasping your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. Kissing Minho was heaven.  His lips were soft, tasting like the cherry chapstick he likes to use.  Your lips fit perfectly together, as if he was made for you.  

You were wet, you had been since the movie.  How could you not be?  Minho’s hands were sliding up and down your legs.  As his hands gave your hips a squeeze, you could feel more arousal slipping out of your cunt into your panties.  You rolled your hips against him, feeling his hard cock slide through your folds through the shorts you were wearing.  You were probably going to have to throw away the panties and shorts you were wearing, as they were soaked through. 

Minho grinned against your lips, grasping your hips harder, helping you grind against his bulge.  “I want you to cum like this kitten.  Can you get yourself off?” You whimpered and nodded and sped up the motion of your hips.  You found the right spot and rhythm to where his clothed cock continued to slide up against your clit, making you clench repeatedly over nothing.  You were a whimpering mess, gasping against Minho’s lips, chasing your high, as he guided you over his cock.  You felt the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap at any moment.  Right when you were about to cum, Minho halted your hips, your high slowly ebbing away. 

“Why, Min why,” you huffed.  Minho giggled saying, “I changed my mind.” 

Minho lifted you up off his lap and laid you down next to him.  He got up to take off his sweats and t-shirt.  He was left in only his boxers, his large bulge sticking out, and his sculpted chest on display.  You couldn’t help but drool at the sight in front of you.  The many years of dance and discipline clearly did its job.  He grabbed your legs and pulled you down to the edge of the bed.  He quickly pulled off your shirt, tossing it aside before taking a hand and grasping your breast.  He flicked your nipple, causing you to moan.  “Pretty tits kitten,” Minho groaned as he squeezed them.  He leaned down and gave you a peck on the lips before hooking his fingers in your waistband, and dragging your shorts and panties down in one go.  He then spread your legs so he could see your bare pussy, puffy and pink and glistening with your arousal.  

“My god kitten, cunt is gorgeous,” breathed Minho, his eyes glued to your center.  “I need a taste.  Can I taste you?”  You nodded your head, “go ahead Min.”  He got on his knees, pulled your ass to the edge of the bed and brought his face to your center.  He was addicted to your smell.  He knew you would taste good.  This was a scene straight out of his wet dreams.  

You watched as he brought his tongue to your cunt and licked you from your entrance to your clit, causing you to jerk your hips up.  He grasped your legs tighter to keep you in place and repeated the motion once more before shoving his tongue into your entrance as far as it would go.  He licked and sucked like a mad man, moaning at your taste.  Minho’s hands kept you spread open, giving him the access he needed to pleasure your sweet body.  He moved his tongue to your clit, giving it kitten licks before suckling the bud between his lips.  You threw your head back, lost in pleasure, grinding your hips against Minho’s face.  Minho had spit and your arousal dripping down his face as he ate you out, never slowing down.  Minho inserted a finger into your hole, slowly dragging it in and out.  He added another finger, moving a little faster, before adding a third.  He curled his fingers upwards, searching for your sweet spot, grinning against your pussy once he found it, your mewls rising a pitch.  

Minho continued to suckle your clit and scissor his fingers in your pussy, bringing you close to the edge.  “Min, Min, I need to cum..please let me cum this time,” you whined, feeling that coil in your belly again. Minho continued lapping at your folds, arousal dripping and clit swollen.  Just when you thought he was going to grant your request, he pulled away with a grin on his face.  You let out a wail, a tear falling down your eye as you felt your orgasm fade away…again.  You absentmindedly reached down to finger at your clit, desperate for your release.  Minho slapped your hand away, “Nuh uh kitten.  You’ll cum when I say you can.” You whined at his words, but nodded your head anyway because you wanted to be a good girl for Minho. 

You watched as he removed his boxers, his cock slapping up against his abdomen, and what a beautiful cock it was.  It was long, with a vein running along the underside of his cock, with a mushroom tip leaking with pre-cum.  He stroked his cock a few times, before slapping it against your clit.  You moaned at the feeling, needing any form of stimulation you can get.  He started rubbing his cock through your folds, before sliding the tip into your entrance and bringing it back out again.  He repeated this motion again and again, watching you gasp and whimper at the feeling. 

You were so tight, his tip breaching your cunt each time he pushed in.  He couldn’t wait to sink into your wet, hot cunt to the hilt and fuck you like you deserve.

As he was about to slide back into your warmth, there was a knock on the door. Minho withdrew his cock and went to grab and put on his shorts.  You had forgotten that some of the other members were coming over tonight, being too preoccupied with trying to cum on Minho’s cock.  

“Oh they’re here, kitten.  Wanna sit there all nice and pretty? Keep your legs spread out just like that.  I’ll go get the boys.  Wouldn’t you love for them to see your wet, sloppy cunt?”  

At his words, you mewled out, clenching down, more arousal sliding out of your cunt.  “Yes, yes, please go get them.  Want to be a good girl for them too!”  Minho chuckled and watched as you grabbed your legs behind the knees to open them up further.  Your puffy cunt was open on display, pretty swollen clit peeking out between your folds. 

“No touching kitten, I’ll be right back.”  You whined in response, “hurry Min, please hurry.”

You watched as Minho left your bedroom, listening for when he opened the front door.  You heard multiple voices, Minho’s being one of them, getting closer to your room.  Minho opened the bedroom door, walking in and stepping aside to let Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung into the room.  As they filed in, Hyunjin was the first to see you.  His eyes went to yours before trailing down to your dripping cunt.  He sucked in his breath at the site, the prettiest he’s ever seen.  

“My god hyung,” Changbin said, shocked at the scene, “When you said you had something to show us, this is not what I expected.” Minho chuckled, “Thought I’d surprise you.  Y/n’s been a good kitten.  She’s held out for so long.”  Walking over, Minho reached out to slide his finger through your lips, before giving your cunt a slap, “Isn’t that right kitten?”  You whimpered, shaking your head yes.  

“Need your cock, Min.  Need….need something, please.  Need to cum.”  

You were desperate at this point.  The four men looking at you with lust and awe in their eyes was too much.  You needed someone, anyone’s cock inside.  Minho smiled and brushed his hand down your face, “Don’t worry kitten, you’ll be cumming on my cock soon.”  He pushed his boxers down once more and tossed them away, not caring that there were some of his other band members in the room, his only focus being you in the moment.  He gripped his cock and brought it to your cunt once more, spreading your slick around.  He pushed in with one fluid stroke, bottoming out, groans coming from both of you. 

“So tight kitten, you’re clenching around me so hard.” He pulled out to the tip just to slam his hips back into yours.  

You mewled out, lost in how his cock dragged against your walls.  You were sensitive at this point, ready to cum at any moment from Minho’s earlier constant edging.  You looked over at the boys and saw them palming their cocks, their eyes trained on you.  

“How does it feel, baby?” Jisung whimpered out, giving his cock a squeeze.  You watched as he slid his hand past his waistband to fondle his cock directly, never taking his eyes off of you.  “It’s talking ain’t it baby, that pretty cunt is so wet oh my god.  

Hyunjin then asked “Is Minho fucking you good baby?” You turned your head to see him grind against his hand as he had pulled his cock out.  

You whimpered out, “yes, yes, yes, yes. Mmhgg…I’m so close, please don’t stop. Please Min.”  

Minho looked at you, bringing his fingers to your swollen clit, dragging out cries of pleasure from your lips.  “Should I let her cum? Hyunjin? Changbin? Ji? What do you think?” 

“Fuck yeah, I want to see her face when she cums. I bet it’s a beautiful site,” Changbin replied, stroking his cock faster at the prospect of you cumming soon.

Hyunjin huffed after squeezing his cock, “hyung, let her cum.  Look at her, I don’t think she’s gonna hold out long.”  

Minho continued to pound into you, “You hear that kitten, the boys wanna see you cum.  Think you can do it? Let go for us?”  

“Yes, yes, I can cum. I want to cum.  Please, so close Min.” You held your legs tighter, feeling your cunt clench and flutter around Minho’s cock.  You felt that coil in your belly build up again, but this time, you were able to let it go.  Letting out a wail, you felt your belly contract before you felt something flood out of you.

“Ahh shit, she squirted, look at that hyung,” Jisung said.

Minho smiled and kept pounding into your cunt, riding you through your high.  “Can I fill you up kitten?” Minho looked at you lovingly, wiping a tear from your face and stroking your cheek.  You nodded your head and whispered, “yes please.”  Minho’s thrusts became sloppy, feeling you clench around his cock again and again.  He couldn’t hold out anymore, he had to fill you up, show you that you were his now and nobody else's.  With a grunt he stilled his hips and came, flooding your walls with his cum.  He stayed inside you for a moment as he leaned down to give you a kiss.  

He slowly pulled his cock out, his release dripping out of your cunt and down onto the sheets below.  He moved out of the way, pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.  “Let the boys see kitten, let them see my cum dripping out of your cunt.”  

The boy’s eyes were locked onto your cunt, watching as Minho’s cum leaked out.  The sheets were an absolute mess, your arousal soaked through the sheets, most likely ruining them.  You looked good enough to eat and god did they want to, take a taste of your precious cunt and coax more orgasms from you. 

You leaned into Minho’s touch, more than satisfied. You then made eye contact with Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung, pushing Minho’s cum out of your cunt. Moans were heard from all three men, as they stroked their cocks and watched you and Minho’s cum leak.  You unhooked your arms from behind your knees and took your fingers to open your lips so they could get a better look at your gaping hole.  Minho smiled down at you, proud of his kitten.  

“So,” Changbin said. “Can I be next?”

I hope you enjoyed it if you read this far. Let me know if you would like a part 2 ;)

#stray kids smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #han smut #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #han x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids hard thoughts #minho smut #stray kids x y/n #minho x reader #minho x you

[stylesispunk]

'I love you, it's ruining my life' | Part iv.

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter

Summary: You and Joel have your happy ending. w.c: 6,7k>

warnings: smut (sorry I'm not the best at writing smut), fluff, angst. time jump. Perhaps grammar mistakes because I didn't check grammar. Not the best piece of writing but now my mind is wandering on another story.

a/n: Part 4 and last one is here! Thank you so much for all the love you gave to this one, I'm really happy you loved it despite the messy writing. I may write for these two to clarify some things, or some details of their lives after this ending. If you have a suggestion, question, or want to talk to me, you can come to my dms or ask! Happy reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this right," he said softly, his thumbs gently caressing your cheek.

You nodded, a tear escaping down your cheek as you smiled up at him. "I believe you, Joel. And I want to try too. I want us to be together.

He pulled you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you securely. "We will," he whispered into your hair. "We'll take it one day at a time, but we'll do it together."

For a while, you simply held each other, finding solace in the closeness. Eventually, you led Joel to the couch, where you both sat down, still reluctant to let go.

"I've missed you so much," you admitted, leaning to kiss his cheek. "Every day felt incomplete without you."

"I missed you too," he replied, his voice tender. "Every day I thought about you, regretting the decisions I made that pushed you away." Joel smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart swell. "Agreed," he said. "We'll make it right this time." He said, capturing your lips with a feverish kiss.

As Joel's lips met yours in a feverish kiss, a rush of emotions swept over you. It was a kiss filled with longing, passion, and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, all the pain and heartache of the past seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth and intensity of Joel's love.

You melted into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours and the taste of his love filling your senses. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying a silent vow to make things right and to never let go of each other again.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you looked into Joel's eyes and saw a reflection of your own feelings mirrored back at you. He clutched your hips and pushed you against the door, shutting your mouth with his own for a hungrier kiss as if he wanted to devour you right here. Your fingers tangled into his dark locks, and he seemed to enjoy it because he released a heavy groan into your mouth, and you drank all those heavenly sounds with pleasure.

“I’m just gonna eat you,” he said, laughing, biting your bottom lip as you laughed lowly.

“That’s what I’m waiting for” you replied.

Both of you were out of breath as he cupped your face and brushed his thumbs against your cheeks like he was the most delicate thing he’d ever held.

Everything happened so quickly that neither of you realized how you'd gotten rid of your clothes, but you missed each other too much to even consider how this might have happened. He held you up against the wall, both of your legs wrapped around his waist so he could thrust fast into you while biting onto your collarbone. you were now moaning. Your head tossed back, and your nails left clear lines of red on his bare back, but this only fueled him, allowing him to pound his hips with greater urgency.

His hands were strong, but his touch was gentle. It was all over you including her face, chest, heart, and mind fantasies.

He was everywhere. You were battling to breathe while simultaneously feeling extremely lively. His fingertips touched your hot flesh, grazing with flames. Even as you burned, you clung to him like he was your lifeline.

He grasped your waist and continued to rock into you. The sound of your name slipped through his lips, mingled in with the groans and nasty words that made your cheeks flush and your eyes roll in delight. But in between the passion and filth, he expressed how much he loved and missed you.

You tried not to pay attention to those words as you tossed your head back, gasping for air, feeling your climax grow so close that your body began shaking against his. Your thoughts quickly went blank, and your toes curled as you shouted out his name, feeling his release not long after you ended. His thrust became sluggish and slow. It wasn't until he stopped that you fell back into reality.

He kissed the corner of your lips tenderly once you both had regained your breathing pace. He opened his eyes to yours. The gentleness of those brown eyes left a lump in your throat as he walked you over to your bedroom to lay you down on your bed.

“I love you so fucking much.”

Those words came again. He sounded out of breath when he spoke, and the raspiness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, this time crashing his lips with yours for what felt like a thousandth time. You then lifted your leg to his hips as you reached down to take him in your palm, and that sudden movement made his breath hitch.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, as if it could serve as a reminder that you were now each other's half.

He began caressing your breasts while inhaling fiercely into your exposed shoulder, dragging his hands down your hips to your stomach. You scorched your back, moaning his name, and he felt like he was going insane at the sight of you under his gaze, like this. His body between your legs offered him easier access to the image he wanted to keep in his thoughts every day.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his finger go down your body to the spot you wanted him the most. You were soaked, and he lost control of the sensation of you gripping around his digits. He attached your lips, groaning into the kiss, and began pumping his fingers, gradually increasing the pace as well. You had your hand behind his neck, panting for air but maintaining eye contact, watching him go insane at the sight of you.

"Joel, I…"

"I know baby… I know…" He breathed into your mouth and pulled out his fingers, causing you to gasp at the loss of his touch. In a short second, he managed to go down and kiss every single inch of kissing every inch of your body, till he reached your tights and placed his tongue on your core. You moaned loudly, arching your back and slowly moving your hips into Joel's tongue.

The bedroom swiftly became crowded with your moans and Joel's tongue lapping at your drenched pussy. He groaned beneath you.

Your fingers grasped his hair locks

"Good girl," he replied.

"Fuck! I'm.." You stuttered. He accelerated his rhythm and sucked as if it were his favorite thing in the world.

Soon after, you came. He licked you clean before slowly licking his way back up your body. Until your lips met in a wet kiss.

"You're my favorite person," he replied, a satisfied smile falling off his lips. He lay next to you in bed, and you both glanced at each other.

"Let's do it again sometime?" You made a joke.

"Why not now?" He asked.

You let him kiss you again, and your hands traveled to his neck once again.

Waking up next to Joel felt strange, not for the wrong reasons or the rust that had grown between you after a year of no communication, but because this time you allowed yourself to be his. The vulnerability was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The smell of his cologne lingered on your pillow, a comforting reminder of his presence. You reached out to touch the space where he had been, but the warmth was fading. Fear crept within your body, a gnawing anxiety that whispered, "What if he regretted and left?"

Your heart pounded as you sat up, scanning the room for any sign of him. Panic began to settle in until you heard the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. You slid out of bed, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you as you made your way towards the sound.

In the kitchen, Joel stood by the stove, his back to you, humming softly as he cooked breakfast. Relief washed over you, bringing tears to your eyes. He hadn’t left.

There he was, only in a pair of jeans, in the middle of your kitchen, preparing breakfast for the both of you.

He turned, a smile breaking across his face, when he saw you. "Morning, baby," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I thought I’d make us some breakfast."

You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and resting your cheek against his back. "I was scared you’d gone," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel turned in your arms, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I’m not going anywhere," he said firmly, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes. "I’m here”

Do you think I am a bad person?" You asked, your voice muffled as you hid your face against his neck.

Joel's body stiffened, and he gently pulled back to scan your face, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Wha—oh my god, what are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions swirling inside you. "I mean, we both did things. Tess, my boyfriend...”

Joel shook his head, his grip on you tightening. "You did nothing wrong," he interrupted firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "We were both trying to navigate a difficult situation, and we made mistakes, but that doesn't make you a bad person."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, his unwavering support and love bringing a sense of relief you hadn't felt in a long time. "I just... I feel so guilty," you admitted, your voice cracking. "For hurting others, for leaving you without a proper goodbye.” You paused for a moment. “I wasted a whole year, Joel.”

Joel’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled you into a tighter embrace. “You didn’t waste anything,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “We both needed that time to understand what we truly wanted and to realize how much we meant to each other. That year apart was hard, but it brought us here to this moment.”

You sniffled, burying your face in his shoulder. “But it hurts knowing I left like that. I should have stayed and fought for us.”

He gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. We both made mistakes. But what matters now is that we’re here, together, and we have the chance to make things right. We can’t change the past, but we can shape our future.”

You nodded, the tears slowing as you felt a sense of peace wash over you. “I want that, Joel. I want to build a future with you.”

Joel smiled, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and love. “Me too,” he said softly. “And we’ll do it, one step at a time, together.”

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, sealing the promise of a new beginning. As you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath match your own.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of your guilt and fear beginning to lift. “For loving me,” you said, your voice steady and free from the guilt and fear that had once plagued you.

Joel's eyes softened, and his expression filled with warmth and understanding. “Always,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

You both stayed silent for a while, savoring the closeness and the unspoken bond that had grown even stronger through your trials. The sun began to rise, casting a soft, golden glow into the room, and with it, a new day began—a day filled with hope and the promise of a love that could weather any storm.

As you nestled closer to Joel, you felt his arms tighten around you protectively. “Can you go back to bed, please?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You chuckled. “Why?”

“I actually planned to bring you breakfast in bed, and you kind of ruined my surprise,” he said humorously, a playful glint in his eyes.

A warm, genuine laugh bubbled up from within you. “Oh, did I now? I guess I can pretend to be asleep,” you teased, your smile widening.

Joel grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s the spirit. Now, back under the covers, and no peeking.”

You playfully rolled your eyes but complied, snuggling back into the warm bed. “I’m not peeking, promise,” you called out, feigning a yawn for good measure.

Joel kissed your forehead before slipping out of the room. You lay there, a smile lingering on your lips, feeling a sense of joy and contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time.

A short while later, you heard the sounds of clinking dishes, the faint aroma of coffee, and something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter for both of you.

Finally, you felt the bed dip slightly as Joel returned, a tray in his hands. “Breakfast is served,” he announced softly.

You opened your eyes to see him setting a tray laden with pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee on the bed. Your heart swelled with affection as you took in the sight.

“This looks amazing, Joel,” you said, reaching for his hand.

He sat down beside you, a contented smile on his face. “This is only the first breakfast of the million I’ll give to you.”

Three years later, Joel and you were happily married, living a life filled with love, laughter, and countless shared memories. On the morning of Joel's 35th birthday, he woke up around 5 a.m., immediately noticing your absence. The usual warmth of your presence beside him was missing, and concern tugged at his heart.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and listened. The faint sound of retching came from the bathroom. Alarmed, he quickly got out of bed and headed towards the sound. He found you kneeling in front of the toilet, your face pale and sweaty.

"Hey, what's going on?" Joel asked, his voice filled with concern as he kneeled beside you.

You looked up at him with a weak smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Happy birthday," you said softly, trying to inject some cheer into your voice despite feeling miserable.

Joel frowned, his worry deepening.

Joel’s concern didn't waver. “Then can you go back to bed and rest?” he pleaded.

You shook your head. “No, I should start getting ready for work.”

Joel's brow furrowed with worry and frustration. “Can you find a substitute?”

“Sure, at 5 a.m.,” you replied with a weak chuckle.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Please, just try to rest a little longer. We can figure out work later.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion creep over you. “Okay, I’ll lay down for a bit.”

Joel helped you to your feet and guided you back to the bed, tucking you in gently. He kissed your forehead, his worry evident but tempered by the love in his eyes. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said softly.

As you lay back down, you watched Joel move around the room, his concern for you touching your heart. Despite feeling miserable, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Joel turned to you, his eyes softening. “Anything for you,” he replied.

Later that morning, you both woke up to the sound of Sarah yelling from downstairs. “Dad! Breakfast is ready! Come on, it's your birthday!” Her voice carried a mix of excitement and impatience.

Joel stirred beside you, groaning slightly as he rubbed his eyes. “Guess we better get up,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You bolted upright, suddenly alarmed. “Oh my God, I’m late for work!” You scrambled out of bed, panic setting in as you realized how much time had passed.

Joel reached out, grabbing your arm gently. “Hey, take it easy. You’re not feeling well, remember? Just call in sick today.”

You hesitated, your mind racing with the thought of your responsibilities. But Joel's steady gaze and calming presence made you pause. “I wish I could, but I can’t; I don’t have a substitute.”

Joel sighed, understanding the weight of your responsibilities but still worried about your health. "I know it's tough, but your health is more important right now. You can't take care of others if you're not taking care of yourself."

You bit your lip, torn between your sense of duty and Joel's concern. Finally, you nodded reluctantly. "Okay, I'll call in and explain. Maybe they can find someone to cover for me."

Joel smiled, relieved. "Good. Let's go downstairs and have breakfast with Sarah first, then you can make that call."

You both got out of bed and made your way downstairs, where Sarah was already seated at the table, beaming with pride over the breakfast she had prepared.

"Happy birthday, Dad!" Sarah exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. "I made your favorite!"

The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air, making you twist and feel nauseous. Before you even realized it, you ran towards the bathroom.

Joel's eyes widened in concern as he watched you bolt towards the bathroom. He quickly turned to Sarah, giving her a reassuring smile. "Hey, sweetie, can you wait here for a minute? I'll be right back."

Sarah nodded, her excitement dampened by worry. "Is she okay? But she loves the pancakes I make."

"She does," Joel said, trying to sound confident. "Just stay here and enjoy breakfast for now, okay?"

He hurried to the bathroom, finding you hunched over the toilet, retching. He kneeled beside you, rubbing your back soothingly. "Hey, it's okay. Just breathe."

You gasped, trying to catch your breath between bouts of nausea. "I'm sorry, Joel. I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”

Joel shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "Nothing is wrong. Just rest, okay?"

After a few minutes, the nausea subsided, and you leaned back against the cool bathroom tiles, exhausted. Joel handed you a glass of water, and you took a few sips gratefully.

"I really think I wasn’t able to go to school” you admitted, your voice shaky. "But I feel so guilty."

Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Don't. You need to rest and take care of yourself. I'll explain things to Sarah.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. "Okay.”

Joel helped you to your feet, and you slowly made your way back to the bedroom, where you sat on the edge of the bed while Joel returned to the kitchen to talk to Sarah.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, sitting down beside her. "Mom's not feeling well, so she needs to rest today.”

“I could stay to take care of her, you know?”

“Oh no. You’re not missing school lady”

Sarah looked a bit disappointed but nodded in understanding. "Okay, Dad. I just hope she feels better soon."

Joel smiled at her. "She will, thanks to your great breakfast. Now, finish up and get ready for school."

As Sarah ate her breakfast, the front door opened, and Tommy walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. "Morning, everyone!" he called out cheerfully. But his smile faded as he noticed the tension in the room. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Joel stood up, walking over to his brother. "Hey, Tommy, missus is not feeling well this morning."

Tommy's concern was immediate. "Is she okay? Do you need me to take Sarah to school?"

Joel shook his head. "As much as I would love to stay, we need to work Tommy “

Tommy set the groceries on the kitchen counter and turned to Sarah, giving her a warm smile. "Alright, kiddo, grab your stuff. We need to go."

Sarah beamed.

Joel watched them for a moment. He then made his way back to the bedroom, where you were lying down, looking pale but resting.

"Hey, Tommy arrived. We’re leaving” Joel said softly, sitting down beside you.

You nodded. "Okay”

Joel took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Just rest now. Call me if you need anything”

As you closed your eyes, Joel stayed by your side. A short while later, the door creaked open again, and Joel looked up to see Tommy poking his head in. "Hey, everything okay in here?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah, she's resting.”

Tommy stepped into the room; his expression serious but supportive. "Anytime. Does she need anything else? I can stick around, run errands, whatever you need."

Joel shook his head, grateful for his brother's offer. "We're good for now. Just knowing you're around is enough."

Tommy smiled. "Alright. Let’s go”

As Tommy left the room, Joel turned his attention back to you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, watching as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Joel lingered by your side for a moment, his hand gently caressing your hair. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering, "Bye, love. Get some rest." He stood up, quietly exiting the room to give you the peace and quiet you needed.

In the kitchen, Tommy was waiting, leaning against the counter. "You sure you’re, okay?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

Joel nodded, though he still looked worried. "Yeah, just trying to keep everything together. Let’s go.”

In the afternoon, you and Joel found yourselves at the supermarket, browsing the aisles to pick up a few things for his birthday. You had insisted you were feeling better, but Joel remained cautious, frequently reminding you to take things slow.

"How about we get some of that fancy cheese you like?" Joel suggested steering the cart towards the dairy section.

You smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Sure, that sounds great."

As you turned the corner into the produce aisle, you suddenly came face-to-face with Tess. She looked as surprised to see you as you were to see her.

Tess's eyes widened in surprise as she spotted you and Joel, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She was holding a child in her arms, and for a moment, you felt a pang of insecurity as you noticed how fondly Joel was looking at the little one.

"Hey," Tess said, her voice tinged with awkwardness. "I didn't expect to run into you guys here."

You forced a smile, trying to mask your own discomfort. "Yeah, same here. How have you been?"

"I've been good," Tess replied, her smile genuine as she glanced down at the child in her arms. "This is Max, my son."

You couldn't help but notice how Joel's expression softened as he looked at the child. It made you wonder—had you and Joel ever talked about having children? Or how you ruined his chance of having children with Tess when you decided to confess your feelings those years ago.

Tess continued, oblivious to your inner turmoil. "I have been in a relationship for 2 years now," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Things have been going really well."

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. "That's great to hear."

Joel spoke up, his voice warm, as he addressed Tess. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you."

“I see you are still pretty close friends,” she said. A hint of venom taunted you as she looked at you, then back at Joel.

Joel's expression remained composed as he reached for your hand, responding to Tess's remark. "Actually, we are married.”

Tess's eyes widened in surprise, and you could see a flash of disbelief cross her face before she quickly composed herself. "Oh, I see," she said, her tone masking any hint of her true feelings. "Congratulations."

You felt a surge of relief knowing that Joel had made it clear that you two were more than just friends. But the mention of Tess's son and her long-term relationship stirred up a mix of emotions within you.

Joel glanced at you, silently communicating his support, before turning back to Tess. "It's been good running into you, Tess. Take care."

With that, Joel steered the cart away, leaving Tess behind in the aisle. You followed silently, feeling a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling inside you. It was clear that seeing Tess and her son had brought up some unresolved feelings and questions, ones that you knew you needed to address with Joel.

The children, how could life have been if you hadn’t told Joel you loved him that night?

As you both walked back home in silence, Joel couldn't help but notice the weight of your silence. He glanced at you from time to time, concern etched in his features.

"Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence between you. "Are you okay?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, though the tension in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

Joel stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "You don't seem fine," he said gently, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Is something wrong with you? Are you feeling nauseous"

“Are you sure?” he asked, once again.

“Yes.”

The evening was filled with laughter and chatter as friends and family gathered in your cozy living room. It was a celebration for Joel's birthday. The room was adorned with balloons, and the air was filled with the aroma of home-cooked food and the clinking of glasses.

Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time, catching up with one another, and sharing stories from years past. But amidst the joyous atmosphere, you couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in your own thoughts.

As you moved from group to group, exchanging polite smiles and engaging in light conversation, your mind kept drifting back to the conversation you had with Joel earlier that day. The mention of children had opened a floodgate of emotions, leaving you feeling uncertain and apprehensive about the future.

You tried to push aside your worries and focus on the festivities, but with each passing moment, the weight of your thoughts grew heavier. You felt like an outsider, disconnected from the joy and camaraderie that filled the room.

Amidst the laughter and merriment, you found yourself retreating into the corners of your mind, grappling with the decisions that lay ahead. Would you and Joel be able to find common ground on such a significant issue? And what would your future look like if you couldn't?

As the evening wore on, you excused yourself from the lively gathering, needing a moment alone to collect your thoughts. You slipped away to the quiet solitude of your bedroom, hoping to find clarity amidst the chaos of your mind.

As the night wore on, Joel couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Despite the lively atmosphere downstairs, a sense of unease gnawed at him, fueled by the memory of your quiet demeanor earlier in the day.

Excusing himself from the gathering, Joel made his way upstairs, a nagging worry tugging at his heart. He checked each room, calling out your name in a hushed tone, but there was no response.

Finally, he reached the bedroom and found the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently, he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

There, in the dim light filtering through the curtains, he spotted you sitting on the edge of the bed, your expression pensive and distant. Concern flooded Joel's heart as he approached you quietly, careful not to startle you.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and concern. "Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I'm fine," you replied, but the tightness in your voice betrayed your words.

Joel moved closer, taking a seat beside you and reaching out to gently grasp your hand. "You don't seem fine," he said gently. "Is there something on your mind?"

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. But then, as you met Joel's gaze, you felt a sense of reassurance wash over you. You knew that no matter what you were facing, you didn't have to face it alone.

"I've just been thinking," you began, your voice wavering slightly. "About us and our future."

“Oh, please don’t tell me you want a divorce on my birthday.” He said this, lifting his hand to his chest.

You chuckled.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached out to cup Joel's cheek. "No, not at all," you reassured him, your voice softening. "I was just... reflecting, you know?"

Joel's expression softened; a hint of relief was evident in his eyes. "Reflecting on what?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"On everything," you replied, your gaze searching his. “I mean, we ran into Tess today, and I couldn’t help but imagine that I stopped you from having a big family.” You paused. “What if I can’t have children, or what if you don’t want to have them with me?”

Joel's expression softened further; his eyes filled with understanding as he listened to your concerns. He reached out, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Hey, listen to me," he said softly. "I understand why you're feeling this way, but I need you to know something."

You looked at him, your heart racing with anticipation of his words.

"I love you and Sarah more than anything in this world," Joel continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "And while I may have imagined a different path for us at one point, what truly matters to me is being with you, no matter what."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words washed over you, soothing your fears and uncertainties.

"I don't care about having a big family or whether we can have children," Joel said, his gaze never leaving yours. "All I care about is building a life with you.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders and a sense of peace settle over you as you realized that Joel's love for you transcended any external expectations or desires.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I love you, more than you'll ever know," he replied, pulling you into a warm embrace as he cupped your face on his hands. “And if you want a baby, let’s make one right now, and I’ll send all these people away,” he leaned, kissing you softly.

"I love you too," you murmured against his lips, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

The idea of starting a family together filled you with excitement and anticipation. With Joel by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that together you could overcome any challenges and celebrate life's greatest joys.

With a playful grin, you leaned in to meet Joel's kiss, feeling a surge of happiness coursing through you, but the smell of alcohol on his lips made you stand up and run to the bathroom, once again to throw up.

Joel's concern was evident as he followed you to the bathroom, his brow furrowed with worry. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he kneeled beside you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the nausea subsided. "I don't know," you admitted, feeling a sense of unease settle over you. "I've been feeling off lately, and this just... I don't know what's wrong."

Joel reached out, gently rubbing your back in a soothing gesture. "Maybe you're coming down with something," he suggested, though his tone betrayed his uncertainty.

You nodded, trying to push aside the nagging suspicion that had been growing in the back of your mind. "Maybe," you agreed softly, though deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something more significant was going on.

As Joel looked at you, concern etched into his features, he couldn't help but notice a certain glow on your face. It was subtle, but unmistakable—a radiance that seemed to emanate from deep within.

A thought began to form in Joel's mind, one that he couldn't quite shake. What if...?

His heart skipped a beat as he considered the possibility. Could you be pregnant?

The idea sent a surge of excitement coursing through him, mingled with a hint of apprehension. He knew that starting a family was something you both had talked about, but the idea of actually becoming parents was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he looked at you, his mind flooded with images of a future filled with laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. And suddenly, the uncertainty faded away, replaced by a deep sense of hope and anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pushed aside his doubts and fears, focusing instead on the overwhelming love he felt for you and the possibility of a new life growing within you. He knew that whatever the future held, as long as you were by his side, he was ready to face it with open arms.

With a tender smile, Joel reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I know this might sound crazy, but... what if you're pregnant?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Joel's words, the possibility hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you were speechless, the weight of the idea sinking in.

"Pregnant?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel nodded, his eyes searching yours for any sign of confirmation. "Yeah," he said, his voice tinged with hope. "I mean, it's just a thought, but... you've been feeling off lately, and the way you've been glowing... I don't know; it just got me thinking."

You took a moment to process his words; the reality of the situation was slowly sinking in. The idea of being pregnant fills you with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. It was something you had hoped for and dreamed about, but now that it might actually be happening, it felt almost surreal.

“Let’s go to the pharmacy.”

“What?! Now?” you asked, widening your eyes.

“Let’s buy a test; consider it a birthday present,” he said, already walking out of the bedroom, but you grabbed his wrist.

“But what if it comes negative?” You asked; fear was already creeping in.

Joel turned back to you, his expression softening with understanding. "Then we'll try again," he said, his voice gentle. "We'll keep trying until we get the result we want. But right now, let's just take the first step and see what happens."

He grabbed your face delicately. “And if you think I’m scared for what happened before... I know Sandy will protect you from above because you loved Sarah as if you were her mother, and I will not lose you, never.”

His words filled you with a sense of reassurance, and you nodded, feeling a surge of determination washed over you. "Okay," you said, your voice filled with resolve. "Let's do it."

The party was still in full swing when you and Joel returned, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Tommy spotted you both entering and quickly made his way over, a curious expression on his face.

"What's going on with you two?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

You exchanged a quick glance with Joel, the excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. "We'll tell you later," Joel replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Before Tommy could press further, you grabbed Joel's hand and gave him a knowing look. "Let's go," you whispered, your heart pounding with anticipation.

With a shared smile, you and Joel hurried upstairs, the excitement building with each step. As you reached the bedroom, Joel wasted no time in tearing open the packaging of the pregnancy test, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation.

You followed suit, your heart racing as you carefully followed the instructions on the box. With bated breath, you both waited for the results; the tension in the air was almost palpable.

And then, finally, the moment of truth arrived. As you stared down at the test in your hands, your heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Was this really happening?

You exchanged a hopeful glance with Joel, his eyes shining with anticipation. With shaking hands, you picked up the test and examined the result.

“I can’t watch,” you said, pacing back and forth.

As you paced back and forth, the tension in the room palpable, Joel reached out, gently grasping your hand to offer you reassurance. "It's going to be okay," he said softly, his voice filled with confidence. "No matter what the result is, we'll face it together."

You nodded, trying to steady your trembling hands as you continued to stare at the test in your grasp. With a deep breath, you finally mustered the courage to look at the result.

And there it was—the moment you had been waiting for—the positive sign you had hoped for. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you looked up at Joel, your heart overflowing with emotion.

Joel's eyes lit up with joy as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I can't believe it," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "We're going to have a baby. My baby is having a baby”

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, you melted into Joel's embrace, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Our baby," you whispered, your voice choked with tears of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

Joel held you close, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "I couldn't be happier," he said, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for."

As you and Joel stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the sound of knocking on the door broke the moment of quiet intimacy. You exchanged a glance with Joel, both of you momentarily lost in your own thoughts, before realizing that Tommy and Sarah must be looking for Joel to sing happy birthday.

Joel gently released you from his embrace, his eyes still filled with wonder and excitement. "I'll go get the door," he said softly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before making his way to the door.

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that still lingered on your cheeks as you tried to compose yourself. The news of your pregnancy still felt surreal, but the joy and happiness it brought were undeniable.

As Joel opened the door, Tommy's and Sarah's voices filled the room with cheerful birthday wishes. But their smiles faded as they took in the sight of you and Joel standing together with tears in your eyes.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tommy asked, concern etched in his voice as he glanced between you and Joel.

Joel's smile widened, unable to contain his excitement any longer. “We have some news," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We're going to have a baby."

As Joel's words hung in the air, the room seemed to hold its breath. You watched as Tommy and Sarah's expressions shifted from confusion to realization, their eyes widening with disbelief and joy.

"We're going to have a baby," Joel repeated, his voice thick with emotion as he reached out to take your hand, squeezing it tightly.

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes as she let out a gasp of joy, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "That's incredible!"

Tommy's eyes sparkled with excitement as he pulled both of you into a tight embrace, and his voice choked with emotion. "Congratulations, you two. This is amazing news."

In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of your family, the reality of the situation hit you like a wave. You were going to be parents—a thought that filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and awe.

Loving Joel didn’t ruin your life.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you exchanged tearful hugs with Tommy and Sarah, feeling overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. This was the beginning of a new chapter in your lives, and you couldn't wait to embark on this journey together, hand in hand, with the love of your life by your side.

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[hetalia-club]

Ah to go back in time and re-live the 2016-2018 Hetalia fandom…

#Hetalia #everyone was so much more chill then #I miss my friends #*looks at my 10k followers* where did you all go babes #rip most of you. you would have loved to call Italy daddy with me #maybe I cling to this fandom because I miss what it used to be #I just wish all the other big Hetalia blogs from back then would come back and keep me company #we could reminisce together… #eventually illl have to accept it’s nothing how it used to be… #but when I do accept that I’ll probably leave for good #for now I will continue to be delu delu #if I knew their real socials best believe I would go drag them back kicking and screaming. you all can best believe

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

welcome to the table of contents for my two-thousand followers special !

i am actually shocked that i reached this milestone, considering my writing managed to convince people to follow me even though i have not been active on this account. you all bolstered me to 2k through two hiatus' that i did not announce, and that i do sincerely apologize for. the next time i plan to disappear off the face of tumblr, i'll give you guys a heads up: no more ghosting :) but seriously, thank you guys for the never ending support, and i will make sure i return the gratitude by being more present on tumblr, and writing more often!

as previously requested and mentioned, this special event is the daniel ricciardo edition. i believe a majority of you wanted a part-two of the overstimulation with daniel ricciardo / max verstappen x black!reader from my f1 kinktober series, which will be included in this special. i also promised a few dr3 fics to some of you that requested--so all in all, all of the daniel ricciardo thirst that YOU ALL requested is listed below the cut. i hope this is enough of a peace offering, and i hope you all enjoy xxx

if you would like to be added to this special's taglist, send me an ask or leave a reply. all episode upload times are at 12 PM EST on their release date. posts tagged as # httpss :// 2k special. all works can be found in my table of contents (m.list).

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: it's his one-man show. you ask for danny ric, and he will always over-deliver. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: daniel ricciardo x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: assorted oneshots.

view playlist? ↴

Pilot: Over-Stimulation Kink w/ Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen

You can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. You understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. And then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

Episode Two: Say, "Cheese!" | facial | 5/31/24

The day she gets her braces off will be the best day of her life. Maybe all the years she dealt with insults, underhanded compliments, and men who wouldn’t date her because of them, would be worth it when she sees her perfectly straight teeth. Of course, it sucks that she has insecurities stemming from her braces; her boyfriend, Daniel, says that they “add to her beauty.” If she believed him, she probably wouldn’t hide her mouth behind her hand when she grins or laughs. Don’t worry—Daniel has an idea of how to make that smile of hers…shine.

requested! insecure!reader. soft!dom daniel. oral sex (male receiving). serene's fave.

Episode Three: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss | fake orgasm | Date TBA

When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress.

requested! servicedom!daniel. vaginal sex. hurt/comfort. attempt at humor.

Episode Four: Tomorrow 2 | body worship | Date TBA

She’s the least favorite Formula One WAG. At first, she was optimistic, the fans would eventually start liking her—but that was a pretty naive thought. She’s constantly compared to Daniel’s ex-girlfriend—she’s not as pretty as her, she’s not as supportive as her, etc. Unfortunately, in a moment of low self-esteem—she breaks and thinks maybe the fans are right. Daniel comes home and sees you gathering every belonging of yours that’s migrated to his apartment like you’re breaking up with him. He tries to change your mind with his words, but that doesn’t quite reassure you completely; so he has no choice but to do it with his actions, too.

requested! insecure!reader. light angst. multiple orgasms. manhandling.

Episode Five: TSA | soft yandere | Date TBA

She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes she never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of one) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of.

requested! possessive!reader. mild angst. happy ending. morally grey.

Finale: K.O. ! | over-stimulation | Date TBA

Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine.  As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words. 

requested! part-two of the pilot fic. multiple orgasms. polyamory. bondage.

current taglist:  @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @multi-fandom-rando @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @vetteltea @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless

© httpsserene2024

#f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x black reader #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x black!reader #max verstappen x black!reader #daniel ricciardo x max verstappen #daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader #poly f1 #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #poly!formula 1 #f1 x female reader #serene’s fave. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr. #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: mv.

[danhoneyyysblog]

hi! can i request for wuthering waves male characters, can it also be yandere with headcanons? want to see how you would view them as yanderes! if so, thanks!

author note: finally, my first request! of course i can! if you don’t mind, i’ll do three characters — Male! Rover, Jiyan and Scar! hope you’re okay with those.

MALE WUWA (WUTHERING WAVES) HEADCANONS, AS YANDERES!

➵ CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS: MALE! ROVER, JIYAN, AND SCAR!

➵ WARNING, MAY CONTAIN: lowercase intended, may be slight ooc — as game recently released, simple information on each character. if you don’t enjoy ooc, don’t suggest! pet names mentioned (loved one, darling, love), mentions of obsession (Jiyan), mentions of possession (Male! Fover, Jiyan), mentions of overprotectiveness (Male! Rover, Jiyan), mentions of manipulation (Scar), mentions of sadistic behaviour (Scar), mentions of delusional behaviour (Scar).

MALE! ROVER:

➵ of all honesty, his was terribly difficult to think about, but with enough work from how he acts. i believe he would fall beneath possessiveness and overprotectiveness.

➵ you see, with possessiveness, i believe he would most certainly prefer if his loved one would dependent on him. of course, as shown throughout the story, there was times Scar is trying to convince him to join him as he is a ‘black sheep’. huh? what’s that? you want to join Scar? not on his watch. if he joins, so will you. if he doesn’t join, you won’t either. don’t be surprised if he finds a way to get you dependent on him.

➵ with overprotectiveness, i think that is WAY TOO OBVIOUS! if you were simply his peer, he would be the average level of protective, but… unfortunately for you, you’re his darling, you are the one breaking his overprotective meter! what do you know, you’re suddenly captured! he is running to save you! he has to be your shining knight in armour. if he isn’t, then who will be?!

JIYAN:

➵ okay, hear me out on this: he would DEFINITELY be obsessive, possessive AND overprotective.

➵ with obsessiveness, he would be fixated on you. like… if he was with the Midnight Rangers, he would think to himself: ‘i wonder how they’re doing’, ‘i hope nothing severe is happening to them’ which eventually shift into… ‘i haven’t retrieved a letter in approximately days. are they upset?’, ‘they are definitely pissed. what should i owe them? my kisses, hugs, cuddles? no… they need something more. my heart, my soul… would they be happy if they got that?’. all of that overthinking could led into him losing sleep, which is rarely given to him due to the amount of work they have to do at night. nobody would even tell what’s going on in his head with that casual stoic expression of his!

➵ for possessiveness, listen to me on this: you know how dragons are possessive of their treasure? exactly. you don’t need to rely on family, friends or any of those people, he could insist you — he gains money for doing his work. what do you want, love? new clothes? more food? a bigger house? anything you want, he can do his best to make it possible! just rely on him, darling! and no… if you asked him to go away, he would most likely not do that.

➵ as for overprotectiveness, it somewhat follows the obsessiveness and possessiveness. if there was a day you managed to convince him you wanted to take a walk further than you usually do, he’ll accept, in one condition: he follows along. he’ll literally glare at anything he believes is a threat towards you, whether it is an ordinary person passing by, a tacet discord, even an animal as simple and small as a bunny! sometimes, people who roam by worry over you. it looks like you’re being held hostage, which you literally are! also, another thing, if you want to join the Midnight Rangers, it is going to take WAY LONGER than it’s supposed to. he will literally find every possible way to deny, you need to be bribing him to let you at one point… ‘i’ll give you more kisses than usual, on the lips, too.’, ‘that won’t work on me, (reader).’, ‘how about we cuddle for two hours instead of one?’, ‘still won’t work’. despite wanting to do it so badly due to the fact it was coming from you! thankfully, you found a way to make it work, but with extreme supervision from Jiyan…

SCAR:

➵ MANIPULATIVE, SADISTIC, AND DELUSIONAL. I REPEAT: DELUSIONALLL!!! i said that with no hesitation. i am so sorry…

➵ with no hesitation, he would most likely manipulate you. what’s that he hears? you’re already in a relationship? too bad, there are two options: 1. he manipulates you into thinking your lover is a bad person, forcing you to leave them. 2. they are going to get burnt alive. to make stuff fun for him, in front of you! it’s safer to go with option 1… even if you are in a relationship with him, doesn’t mean you’re safe. you want to leave?! what do you know! he is literally using your secrets, weakness, fears, all of that against you! literally stay with this man, for the sake of you…

➵ no doubt on this one, since he basically emotionally manipulates you. he probably enjoys when you get all scared, begging him not to admit all of the stuff you fear coming out. trust me… even if you make a run for it, this man is literally going to hunt you down. may as well tackle you onto the ground, throw you over his shoulder and laugh while you’re screaming, crying, punching, kicking. believe me on this, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

➵ HERE IS WHERE THE DELUSIONAL KING COMES OUT. tying all of the manipulation and sadistic behaviour together. he, most definitely, most certainly, believes you’re acting that way to purposely become hard to get. if you’re doing something for him out of kindness, which may be rare due to how much of a crazy guy he is, he’ll definitely think it’s out of love. if you say you’re not in love with him, or anything that comes out rude, he’ll think they are lies or that you’re simply shy — bringing back the fact he believes you’re playing hard to get.

author note: i apologize if this doesn’t suit as realistic to the characters. as known, it’s nearly been a week since the game released and the more that comes out, the more we’ll learn about them. i’ll re-do this in the future, maybe with more characters? you never know!

#wuthering waves #wuwa #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #yandere wuthering waves #yandere wuwa #wuthering waves rover #wuthering waves jiyan #wuthering waves scar #wuwa rover #wuwa jiyan #wuwa scar #rover x reader #jiyan x reader #scar x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #danhoneyyysblog

[hugsandchaos]

Danny in an Encanto crossover gives the impression of someone trying to befriend a stray feral cat and bring them inside to give the love and shelter, but the stray feral cat doesn’t trust them and keeps hissing every time they get too close.

Although, I’d love to see everyone being completely accepting of Danny. They don’t look at him with suspicion or hatred when they see him slip up, they’re amazed! He has powers just like the Madrigals? That’s super cool! And he has more than one? Not just phasing through solid objects, but also invisibility and sensing ghosts nearby? Even better!

I bet that Bruno would relate to him in a way. They were both looked down on for their powers, but in different ways. Bruno because he mostly predicted bad things with no control over it, and Danny because a lot of people, including his parents, really didn’t like “Phantom” because the sole reason that he was a ghost. Alma knew that it was Bruno who had the powers, Danny’s parents didn’t know he was the ghost they keep shooting at.

Also, Danny 100% defends Bruno from any villagers who blame him for having bad visions. Bruno’s lacked social interaction with other humans for ten whole years, but Danny’s up for fighting for him. His favorite line to use was “If I’m a child and I have to explain this to you, what does that say about you as an adult?”. He didn’t get in trouble for it.

Danny talks about space and teaches them about it! He’s more than happy to explain it all and answer their questions the best he can!

Danny eats Julieta’s food and is honestly freaked out because his ribs are suddenly not broken anymore. Take it a step further and say that he’s sleep deprived, and one of the side effects of having food that heals you is that it can make you really tired if you haven’t slept well for a while, so you can’t help but take a quick nap. So he just falls unconscious after a few bites and wakes up in the early morning not knowing what year it is.

It doesn’t get rid of his death mark, though, which confuses everyone. Speaking of his death mark, Danny doesn’t like to talk about it, but eventually explains that it’s a scar from being zapped. He doesn’t go into detail or talk about what exactly the incident did to him, though. He just mentions that he got zapped and has a scar from it.

Eventually, the Madrigals will come to the realization that he doesn’t just have ghost-like powers. He’s actually a ghost. Half ghost, at least.

Also, Danny swears he sees Pedro around the house, not just in the paintings, and the most often place is by Alma’s side. He’s even had conversations with him. To everyone else, it looks like he’s talking to thin air, but he seems so fixated on something that’s actually there and listens to nothing so much that they think he’s actually being serious. Once, during a conversation with Alma and she was telling him about Pedro, he looked at her very confused and said “What are you talking about? He’s standing right next to you”.

At first, she was upset, but he said it with way too much confusion and conviction that she starts to realize he’s serious. Every time someone says that he isn’t, Danny gestures to nothing and goes “Are you blind?! He’s right there!”. In his eyes, Pedro really is there, looking awkward because this kid sees him and is arguing with his family about it.

Honestly, Danny doing something by himself and then suddenly turning around and making immediate direct eye contact with Pedro would be really funny. Pedro is honestly freaked out because something seemed off with the kid from the beginning, and he just made eye contact with a ghost?

Oh, and you best believe that after being treated so nicely by everyone, Danny will start throwing hands the second another ghost tries to cause them trouble.

Make it even better by combining it with Good Vlad. The two just show up one day trying to find a place to live. Their dynamic confuses more than a few people because people usually treat their god father or technical uncle with love and respect. Danny’s constantly getting on his nerves for the fun of it, doing things including but not limited to taking his coffee. He also calls him a “fruit loop”, which apparently means someone insane. Vlad calls him “Little Badger”, and yes, he’s actually been bitten by Danny once because Vlad startled him when he grabbed him to pull him out of danger and Danny’s first instinct was to bite him.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #encanto #encanto x Danny phantom #danny phantom x Encanto #danny phantom crossover #Encanto crossover

[alottiegoingon]

the last night

shauna shipman x fem!reader

summary: shauna comes back after 19 months in the wilderness

warnings: shauna and r had a situationship, very suggestive content but nothing explicit, wilderness time, mentions of mental illness (depression, anxiety), r cheating on her actual gf, manipulative shauna (?), angst but happy ending, not proofread

"i can't believe you're leaving me," you complain in a purposely whiny tone, your voice ringing in shauna's ears as you sit across from each other on the bed. she grips her familiar journal while you help her go through her checklist of essential items.

"i'm not leaving you. It's only a week," she murmurs, her head bowed over her journal, but her eyes lift to catch yours. a playful smile dances on her lips, secretly entertained by your antics.

shauna played as the midfielder for the yellowjackets, a girls' soccer team. their recent victory had secured them a spot in the nationals in seattle, and it was all she could talk about.

you were genuinely excited for her, but the thought of spending so much time apart made you anxious. it wasn’t a full week, technically, but you couldn’t help worrying about shauna meeting someone much cooler in a much cooler place.

"remember the last time?" shauna reminisces about her trip to denver five years ago, also for soccer. you were just middle schoolers then, and you were forced to make new friends while she was gone for days. "you found new friends," her voice crackled slightly.

"so we are friends now?" you say, your voice constricting. shauna doesn't look up but you hear her snort, contrasting with her muscles tensing up. the silence settles in and you don't wait any longer to fill it, not wanting to make things any weirder than they already were.

"anyway. it's just not the same now," shauna understood your words perfectly well, especially considering the kind of friendship you had. still, she questioned.

"why's that?" she inquires, her hands absently rubbing the pen against her journal as she finishes her list.

"you know why," three words of yours were responsible for the abrupt stop of her writing. shauna places the journal and pen aside, focusing on you.

"because no one is as cool as me?" she quips, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her lips.

"that's debatable," you retort, feigning skepticism as you mock her with a playful expression.

"you hurt my feelings like that," her false frown deepens as she leans in.

her hands move surreptitiously toward your legs, eventually landing in a gentle and not so innocent touch on your knees. inch by inch, she traces your skin with her fingertips until her full hands were on your thigs and crawling up to your waist.

"i'm so sorry," you try to keep yourself unbothered by her touch but she's smarter. her nose strokes your cheek, stopping to give your upper lip a messy kiss, and she kisses her way town to your neck.

brushing your hair out of the way along with the heart necklace, her teeth gently grazes on your skin.

"nuh-uh. this won't do," her hot breath into your skin makes you shiver. "i have a better idea."

𖠋

everyone remembers where they are when an upsetting event happens. the death of a celebrity, a natural disaster, a medical trauma. you remember, clear as water, where you were when you read the newspaper. walking back home.

it was all over the news. flight 2525, the private plane that lottie matthews' dad had chartered, had disappeared. the plane shauna was in. making everything worse, the news would often use the word 'crash' instead and you couldn't bare the idea.

soon enough, it hit you that the night before her trip was the last time you would ever see her again. the only thing more unbearable than that was the uncertainty; not knowing if shauna was still out there.

after a month of silence, you thought you had your answer.

people don't move on from things like that, not completely. especially if their best friend was envolved. spending your days in bed, skipping meals and not going to class became part of your new routine. you lost track of whether it was day or night, whether the sun was shining or not. your mind was consumed by her.

moving on or not, life goes on and the world doesn't slow down for anyone. after six months, normalcy had returned for most. apart from the parents and a handful of students, the yellowjackets had faded from people's memories, just like their plane. this pissed you off. you barely had time to grieve as the rest of the world rushed forward.

forcing yourself to merely exist, not truly live, you returned to class. like a ghost, you attracted curious glances and avoided them like the plague. after graduation, college was the next step.

a year later, shauna’s parents asked if you wanted anything from her room. something special, or perhaps just to visit. you were certain it wasn’t a good idea, but you went anyway. under her pillow, you found an envelope from brown university—the same school you were attending, the place you and shauna had planned to go together.

that was all it took to break you down into a sobbing mess on her bed.

𖠋

things got better. not perfect, not the way they used to be, but better. you weren't alone anymore but always had to push away the idea of losing all of your friends at once, one in special. luckily or not, college kept you busy.

"have you finished tomorrow's essay? It's so boring I might just drop the class," your girlfriend says, dropping a pile of old books on the cafeteria table and sitting across from you.

"i have dark circles under my eyes, what do you think?" you groan, lifting your head. she leans over the table to kiss your forehead.

"i think you still look pretty, baby."

"thanks, but I'm not letting you copy my work."

"worth the shot," she chuckles, placing two cups of coffee on the table, sliding one towards you.

your plan was to finish that damn essay and be completely free. the cafeteria was buzzing with students, but at least they were minding their own business. that's what you get for studying in a campus cafeteria.

"did you hear what happened to them? i'm so glad they're alive. It must have been so tough," her sudden comment startles you, taking a moment to register.

you swallow a lump in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at the TV, where crowds of people are watching the news: 'yellowjackets rescued'.

"holy shit," you whisper, the shock setting in as you realize you hadn't revealed not only your awareness of their situation but also your complex connection with one of them.

𖠋

a week after shauna got back, her parents had called you your stomach was turning upside down and your anxiety levels were through the roof. you couldn't manage to put your feelings into words.

you knocked on her bedroom door, too anxious to wait, just to announce yourself. for the first time in almost two years, shauna stood before you. she bore a few scars, nothing too severe; her hair had grown longer, losing its waves; her eyes seemed somehow larger, fixed on you as if she had just saw something extraodrinary.

she leapt from the bed, a cautious gaze scanning you, before rushing toward you and embracing you tightly.

her arms wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers digging into your clothes so intensely it almost hurt. you reciprocated, holding her waist tightly to keep her close, unsure when the tears started flowing, but you feeling your shoulders becoming wet.

"hi," she whisper between tears, her voice crackling.

"hi," you echo her. "i thought i would never see you again."

"i know," she sniffs, clinging to you. the last thing she murmurs for the long time you two spent hugging.

shauna was back, but she was much quieter, easily irritated, and frightened by everything. she had every right to feel that way, but you were worried. no one was allowed inches close to her journal and you respected that, encouraging her to write about her feelings.

your finals didn't matter anymore; nothing else did. for the next few weeks, you were constantly by her side. even waiting outside the bathroom door like a loyal dog.

however, you weren't the same as before. you weren't as touchy or intimate, especially after shauna discovered you were dating someone else. she became distant and strange, pushing you away and ignoring your calls.

"hey, I bought you a new book. It's from that author you used to like before..." you stop yourself mid-sentence. "you know."

forcing a smile, you place the book on her desk. her vacant eyes meet yours, but she remains still, lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

"is everything okay?" you ask hesitantly, walking towards her and offering your hand.

the silence lingers but she accepts your hand and joins you.

"shauna?" you say. as soon as she's on her feet, she drops your hand quickly.

"everything is fine," she says sharply.

"right... it's just that you've been acting weird lately," you explain, trying not to upset her.

"in case you didn't know, I was trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for almost two years," she snaps, her body stiffening.

"yes, i know," you say, inhaling deeply. "but I—"

"don't you have to go back to your girlfriend anyway?" she interrupts, glancing at the door and then back at you. she clearly wanted you out.

"no, I don't," you reply, frowning. "is she why you're acting like an idiot?"

she snorts, taking a step forward, her eyes narrowing.

"It's funny how I'm the idiot when you've replaced me with someone else so quickly," you would feel bad thanks to the pain in her voice if it weren't for her absurd words.

"replace you?" you scoff. "she's my girlfriend, shauna."

"and what was I?"

"you were my friend! we were friends."

her face shuts down completely, lips parting as if ready to shout something, but she stops herself. you weren't sure if you agreed with your own words, but it’s too late now.

"i thought you were dead," you say, taking a deep breath to keep your voice steady. shauna, however, seems perfectly fine with letting her voice rise.

"you sure did," she says, shaking her head slightly.

"well, you left me."

"not because I wanted to, you fucking idiot!" she snarls, suddenly pressing her forearm against your collarbones and pushing you backwards. you gasp in surprise as your back hits the cold wall.

"shauna! what are you doing?" you try to push her away, but she’s stronger than you remember and hold you in place.

"do you ever think of me when you kiss her?" she whispers, ignoring your question. her breath is ragged, her chest heaving. she tilts her head slightly, studying your face. then she leans closer, her lips just brushing against yours.

you can hardly make sense of her words, stunned by her sudden change in behavior. your mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out.

"answer me," she growls, pressing her arm harder against you. her jaw clenches, making you yelp, and you immediately whisper a faint 'yes.'

she smirks, crashing her lips into yours. though you hesitated for a moment, you quickly recovered, syncing your movements with her rough rhythm. when you try to pull her closer by the hips, she lets go of your chest, grasping your wrists and pinning them along with you.

the urgent kiss didn't last much longer as she trailed her way down to your jawline with small bites and feral kisses, eventually reaching your neck. in her preferred area, you cry out her name when she sinks her teeth into your skin, drawing blood.

when did she got so into biting?

#shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #well this got a bit too dark #still counts as a happy ending tho right?

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 4

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5k | prev | chapter 5 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki is avoiding you. 

You don't have any definitive proof, but you can read between the lines.

It’s not obvious, but you have seen him a lot less than usual, and even though you could be wrong, you just can’t shake the feeling. 

The lack of his presence in the bar, for starters, is one instance. He hasn’t needed any healing help from you either even though he’s been out and about. You can only assume he’s been fine, but it doesn’t take the sinking feeling away from the pit of your gut.

There is something else that’s been bothering you as well. Pulling at your thoughts and living within the walls of your mind.

You can’t stop thinking about what happened a few nights ago. 

The distressed look on Shigaraki's face haunts you, and it doesn’t help that you haven't had a chance to apologize. Hell, you haven’t even seen him at all since that night. Your days have consisted of training and healing, with no sign of your leader. 

Today you are with Toga once more, in a field you have become more familiar with, sparring. 

Twice has joined you both, stating that he was the best person to help — and you agree. He has been making clones of Toga to help you spar and the addition takes away the consequence of harming her.

As for her clone harming you…

Well, you just need to improve — and you believe that you have, as you’ve ended up less on the ground and more on top by the end of the week. 

She comes at you without a care in the world and a knife in her hand, but you’ve learned how to dodge. You know well how to duck and then swing, how to sway is just the right ways that would give you an opening to knock her off of her feet. During your time training you have learned how to get the upper hand. 

Every time you can dodge an attack it makes you feel good.

It reminds you that you’re learning and that this isn’t in vain. 

There’s a moment right as Toga’s clone is about to strike that you see it — the perfect opening. 

Your right hand forms a fist and you don’t think as you do it, just swing and hit the mark, right against her left cheek and it takes the clone down completely. It turns to sludge before you and the claps of Twice and Toga catch your attention.

“That’s one hell of a right hook!” Twice yells to you and you can only muster a small smile, tired out from the spar. 

“Thanks. We can call it here, right?” you ask and Toga nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“Yeah, and your swing is pretty good.” She compliments, hopping off the boulder she sat on and walking towards you, guiding you back to the meeting area Kurogiri tells you all to gather.  “You should ask Tomura about a support item. I think you’re almost ready for one.”

The portal opens before you and it's a relief to see that you were one step closer to heading to bed for the night. Training really drains your energy.

“You think so?” It's a feeble question, one to merely fill the air as you all walk through. 

Toga nods, already making her way towards the door of the bar, no doubt ready to head to bed herself. “I do! You’re pretty strong, little bird.” 

And she’s gone, leaving those words to echo in your mind as you stop in your tracks. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as strong. Not when you’ve lived the way you have for so long. Your first instinct is to deny, but you fight it — instead opting to push the compliment to the back of your mind. 

You should find Shigaraki. 

It's late, but not too late. He should still be awake, and you would like to at least mention the idea of a support item before your confidence slips.

The strength stays with you as you trudge the tunnels, making your way to Shigaraki’s room. 

You’ve never been there, and there has never been a reason to, but you knew it wasn’t very far from yours. The nerves you’ve been so confident stomping out have returned in full force as you approach his door. The worse he could do was tell you to go away. 

So, with your solid reasoning, you inhale and knock at his door, waiting for a gruff reply, but when there is nothing, not even movement, on the other side you debate knocking again. 

Against your better judgment, you try it again and are met with the same silence. 

It feels eerie and your brain is screaming at you to turn tail and go to your room, but curiosity eats at you. 

You bring a hand to his doorknob, pausing as you debate opening his door.

The worst he could do is tell you to go away.

You turn the knob and…

It's locked. You should have known. Shigaraki doesn’t seem like the type to trust others enough to have his bedroom door unlocked and open for all to explore. 

With a sigh you move on, not to your bedroom, but back to the bar. Shigaraki was absent there as well, but you believe Kurogiri may have a clue of his whereabouts. 

The apparition is exactly where you assumed he would be — behind the bar, cleaning a glass, expression impossible to guess behind the wispy shadows that cloud his face.

“Kurogiri,” you start, glancing around the bar once more for good measure, and sure enough, there was no sign of your leader. “Have you seen Shigaraki anywhere? He wasn’t in his room.”

There's a beat of silence between you two, you can only assume Kurogiri is scanning his own mind for places Shigaraki may have gone, but his response surprises you. 

“Have you checked the roof?”

Your brows furrow at the mention. 

The roof?

There is a ladder you have to climb to get to the roof. It's not very high and it's through the red curtain behind the bar’s counter, but it’s there. 

Once you’ve made your way onto the roof and dusted yourself off, you take a look around. 

Lo and behold, there he is, his form relaxed as he looks out onto the city of Kamino, drink can in hand and distinct lack of hand dawning his face. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” you announce as you approach, cringing at your own words, but knowing you had no other greetings in your arsenal. 

He doesn’t spare you a glance, only taking a sip of his drink as his eyes are lost in thought. 

But he doesn’t tell you to go away, so you take that as a good sign — slowly making your way to where he’s sat and taking your own seat. Not too close, but near enough that it’s not awkward to have a conversation. 

You decide to follow his gaze, looking out into the city of Kamino as the sea of buildings light up the area. 

You wish they were stars instead.

The thought makes you look up and see the gray sky above, murky as the fog settles onto the city. You wish there was more to look at, but from this angle you can barely make out the silver glow of the moon through the clouds. 

The naivety in you wishes there was more up there, like a meteor shower or some other natural occurrence you’ve read about in books.

But there's nothing here. 

Nothing but light pollution and fog. 

“So,” you begin, words eager to leave your mind, “training with Toga is going well.”

“Good.” His eyes are far away as he responds, sipping more of his drink as his thoughts swim through his mind. 

You wonder what he’s thinking about, but forgo asking.

Instead, you opt for a nod, excitement showing in your small smile as you go on, “Yeah, since Twice has been with us he’s made clones of her to help me train. They say I have a pretty good swing.” 

This time Shigaraki does look at you, interest piqued and it makes you feel warm that he’s at least a little interested in your training progress. 

“Yeah?” He asks and you nod again.

“Mhm, Toga said I should ask you about a possible support item soon, but I'm not sure what would fit me best.”

“I have a few ideas.” He takes another sip of his drink and from this distance you can tell it's an energy drink. Odd choice for a late night snack. “I’ll check in with you by the end of next week.”

Your eyes widen, a little shocked from how fast you’d be able to have something to help you, it makes your previous excitement grow as you bite back more of your smile. 

“Thank you.”

Shigaraki hums in response, sending the space between you into a lull. It is not unwelcomed — the wind whistles and the breeze is nice as you both watch the city from above. You’re beginning to understand why Shigaraki would want to be out here in the first place. 

It’s peaceful. 

The quiet stretches until the nagging voice in your head begins to catch up with you once more, drawing attention to your earlier struggles.

You want to apologize. 

“Hey, Shigaraki.”

His eyes cut to yours and his red gaze feels intimidating. You hate to admit it, but it’s the truth, even more so in this vulnerable moment. 

So you divert.

“Have you heard any updates about my father?” you get the words out and now that the dam is broken you cannot stop. “It’s been on my mind a lot lately and I've stopped seeing articles. It’s just making me feel uneasy.”

You pause, your heart is racing and you feel a familiar sense of panic in your veins. The same panic you felt at home when you would mess something up in front of your father. Even the mention of him shakes your core.

You move to speak again, but Shigaraki stops you. 

“No, he’s probably done with the charades.” He takes the last sip of his drink, leaning his head back and you watch as his adam's apple bobs with each swallow. 

Once he finishes the drink, he presses one, two, three, four, five fingers down on the can — disintegrating it into ash before your eyes. 

You’ve never seen his quirk with your own eyes, but it happens quickly — the bottle fading into dust and then nothing, swept away by the winds as if it never existed at all. 

“Besides,” he continues, the hint of amusement in his tone makes your heart clench for reasons completely different from before. “If he looked any further he’d only build a case against himself.”

He looks at you again, hint of a smile on his face, “and I don’t think he’s that fucking dumb.”

You look at him and you feel light, the worry from before dissipating in the wind just like the drink can before. You bring a hand to your chest, an old habit that made you feel as though you could heal your own heart — stop it from racing out of your chest and far away from you. 

“Yeah,” you finally respond, a small uptick of your lips calming your nerves, “yeah, he would have to be insane.”

Shigaraki is satisfied with your answer, moving to stand and you follow suit. 

There’s the booming sound of rolling thunder falling over the space between you both. 

It’s going to storm soon and neither of you wanted to get caught up in it.

—--------------------------

They’re sending you on a mission soon. 

It’s somewhere further out and in a different city, so it should be nowhere near your father’s jurisdiction. It’s being led by Dabi since he is just as strategic as Shigaraki and well within his rights of intelligence. They tell you something about it being a part of a larger, more important mission to come along soon. 

You’ve been improving in fighting everyday — the support item Shigaraki gave you really helps. He believed a bat would be a great help in your combat and so far it has. 

They don’t expect you to fight but they do expect an altercation and it’s best to have a healer where they are needed instead of somewhere not within reach. 

“It seems we have some rats in our ranks.” Shigaraki told the group at the meeting, carmine eyes shining in delight at the idea of a challenge to his goals, “and I think it’s time we take care of it.”

It makes you nervous since there's been no reason for you to leave the base beyond training with Toga. As much as you would like to go out and see more, this mission makes you feel uneasy. 

It feels like once you’ve done this you truly are a villain and there is no going back from that. 

The images of your father’s reaction and raging face makes you shiver, but you steadily remind yourself that you are no longer there. That is not your reality anymore. 

However…

You will be on a mission with Dabi. The same man you’ve barely interacted with. The one who is hardly around to get a read on. 

He paid you no mind as Shigaraki explained the details of the upcoming mission further — even going as far as staying behind once the discussion was finished to delve deeper into more details. He was nothing if not thorough. 

You’re not sure what to expect and the thoughts plague you all the way to your room.

It’s difficult to find sleep, but you try, giving in to the tiredness you feel and slipping into the welcoming feeling of nothing. 

You wake with a start. 

Your chest heaves as you look around your bedroom and realize its only you. Nothing is out of place and everything is quiet. 

It must have been a nightmare you were having but the memories are hazy. The dream is already fading away as you blink the sleep from your eyes. 

All you know is that the nightmare was unsettling. It left a pool of dread deep in your gut and you needed to get out. So, making your way out of bed, your feet move to the one place you believed could be relieving at this hour. 

You’ve gone up to the roof a few times before, Tomura is always there. Always silent. Always with a drink of some kind. 

You don’t speak much as there isn’t much to say, but you find comfort in it. The silence is calming and it comes with the lack of pressure from either side to say what’s on your mind.

Shigaraki never tells you to leave. 

He’s told you before that you’re free to do what you want and you suppose this is included. As long as you don’t bother him during his quiet time, you were fine to share the space. 

It’s three in the morning and you hope he’s gone to bed for the night. The roof has become some kind of safe haven but you’ve never been up alone. You would like to see what it’s like. 

But he is there, and you can’t really bring yourself to be upset.

You actually feel a little relieved — the hazy remnants of the nightmare still had you a little shaken, the lack of company would only make you feel worse. 

“Do you ever sleep?” you wonder aloud as you slowly approach. Tomura has another energy drink tonight, but this one is unopened. It looked to be long forgotten by his side as he watched the city below. 

“Sometimes.” he responds, voice low, but you were close enough to catch it.

Shigaraki is wearing his gloves, the black partial ones that you never see him sport inside the bar. Only up here. 

Only with you.

You haven’t gathered the nerve to ask him why that is yet. 

(You’re not sure you will be able to, either.)

So instead you sit — it's always a respectable distance away as you both look out into the city. The calming feeling of the open night feels freeing. It's unlike anything you’ve felt before. Especially not in recent years. 

You wonder if he has nightmares, too. If he’s plagued by visions at night, if they keep him up the way they keep you up. 

Excessive energy drinks in the middle of the night aren’t really good at helping you sleep. 

You wonder what he’s running from — your leader in the League of Villains. 

You both stay like that for a while, comfortable silence stretching between you both and you don't mind it. It’s only until Shigaraki starts shifting that he draws your attention. He’s shuffling around in his pajama pockets and piquing your curiosity. 

It's only when he pulls out a gaming console that you tilt your head in confusion. It's small and portable, but he’s never brought anything like that up here in the short time you’ve joined him. 

Your confusion only grows as he extends the device to you. 

“What?”

“Take it.” He offers, and you cannot help the way your brows furrow and frown deepens. 

Why would he offer you this?

You meet Shigaraki's eyes, deep red and passive, then down at the console — even through the partial gloves he wore, Shigaraki still held the system in an odd way. It’s black and holds a few scuffs and scratches. Well worn. Well loved. 

“What’s this for?” you ask, no longer worried to question the man. 

He only scoffs, look of confusion now painting his own features. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a gaming system is.”

“I do!” you shoot back, embarrassment bringing heat to your cheeks. It's gone as soon as it’s arrived — your confusion dissolving into curiosity. “I mean, why are you giving this to me?”

He looks at you like you’ve asked what the year was, “You said your father took your console away.”

Your eyes widen at his words, shock evident in your movements as you take the device from his hand. He’s quick to pull it away as well, but you don’t think about it further. You only look at the scuffed gaming console and ponder why Tomura Shigaraki of all people would give it to you.

“It’s old and I don’t really use it nowadays,” he starts, causing you to meet his eyes once more, “Sensei said the games there were good for learning to strategize. It helped, but I don't need it anymore.” 

You stare down at the device — scratched and worn, no doubt played for hours. 

Although it seems like a half thought of an offer, there’s still a vulnerability to the situation that makes you warm. A genuine effort that makes you want to be genuine in return. 

“He’s not my real dad.” You start, shaking Shigaraki out of whatever thought he may have been lost in. “My real father skipped out on us. And he married my mom when I was young. Then… we lost her.” 

You’ve never had a chance to talk about your past. To open up. Growing up he had always drilled into your mind that he was your father, then your only guardian after your mom passed.

His behavior became weird — he became obsessive after the loss of her. 

Told you that needed no one but him, and he needed you too. 

Only you. 

Shigaraki says nothing, and you continue, “Sometimes, I like to pretend my real dad is out there, somewhere. Maybe lost at sea or something.” 

You laugh, a sad huff of breath. “I don’t think anyone like him could be a father, even though that’s all I know him as.” 

It feels weird talking to someone you barely know about your innermost thoughts, but it’s a faint relief off of your chest.  

“That sounds awful.” he starts, “Being at sea for months on end. I would probably get seasick.”

Now you laugh, genuinely. “Have you ever seen the ocean?” 

An innocent question, but one that makes him ponder. “No, and I don't think I want to.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, nose scrunching at the idea. It's cute, you have to admit. “Too bright, too noisy and it probably smells bad.”

You smile, light and innocuous. What a negative nancy. “I’ve never been either. I would really like to. I had planned to, but…” you pause, mood souring. “But he wouldn’t approve.”

You don’t know why you're still talking, but the dam has burst, contents of your heart spilling over and out. 

“I'm an adult, you know? Twenty! It sucks seeing all my friends move on and do other things with their lives. But I was stuck.” you pause, looking at the ground, “I told him so, too. That’s where it all went wrong that night.”

That night.

You remember.��

You remember it clear as day. 

The argument happened during dinner.

A night like any other, so you hadn’t seen the escalation coming. Your friends had been telling you about a program, a little study exchange in a small beach town where anyone could go to research and learn about the animals in the area. 

You didn’t have many friends, but the few you held dear would be going. It would be a shame to be left behind — to have to spend another year in this house. 

It was a simple thing, you brought the idea up to your father, told him about how good of an opportunity it would be for you. 

That’s where it all went downhill. 

He got so angry, furious at the idea of his only daughter running off to some beach with god-knows-who doing god-knows-what. He told you to go on and forget it — it wasn’t happening.

Not on his watch. 

This was it, the final straw. You couldn’t possibly spend another minute at a table with someone who was so deadset and keeping you down and caged.  

So, you do something you never had.

You yell at him. Tell him he’s being ridiculous, that you should be able to go out and do your own thing. All your friends were able to.

By the time you realize you’ve chosen the wrong words it’s too late. 

Your father stood to his feet, the screeching of the chair ringing in your ears as he stomped his way over to you. 

“Where did all this energy come from?” 

You felt your heart sink as he stopped in front of you, his form towering over yours as you regret even opening your mouth. 

“Was it a boy?” he hissed and you wished then and there you could take it back. The outburst, the trip, everything. But it's out now and in the open. You would have to face the consequences. “Have you met a boy and he’s gotten into your head?”

You shake your head, desperately denying the claim, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. You move to stand as well, feeling powerless from your chair and he grabs your wrist.

“You’re not going.” He spits, voice stern and grip achingly tight, “you won’t be some back alley whore as long as I’m around.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” The panic is evident in your eyes as you try to pull away and talk some kind of reasoning into him. “There’s nobody, I’m telling the truth!”

The struggle you put up to release your wrist only makes you lose your balance, dropping to the dining room floor and landing on your elbow. The pain is pushed to the back of your mind as the towering, angry man before you drops with you, pinning you to the ground.

You feel frozen as he continues, too far gone in his anger to hear you out any further. 

“What does he have that you need so badly, hm?” There’s the strong odor of liquor on his breath, he’s always had a problem with drinking. Even more so after your mother passed.

“You’re being crazy.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling in disbelief at his actions. It’s never gone this far. 

“Oh, I’m being crazy? Look at you!” His eyes are wild and you’re sure he’s lost it. “My little girl would never raise her voice at me.” 

His tone lowers and the alarms in your head start to go off as your panic swells, spilling in the form of apologies and pleads for forgiveness. Anything you could think of to end this fight and go to your room. 

He doesn’t listen to you, only murmuring odd comments about your appearance. How much you look like your mother. 

It made you feel sick. So, so sick as you realize the apologies will not work.  There are no heroes coming to save you and your guardian has gone off the deep end. 

All the lingering leers, all the not-so-casual touches in the past have led up to this. Your breathing feels heavy as your heart beats relentlessly against your chest while you try to make sense of your situation. He finally tells you that you won’t leave him. Even if he has to break you, he’ll make sure of that.

Your brain kicks into overdrive as he reaches for his belt — the chiming sound triggers your fight or flight to kick into action. 

Adrenaline pumps through your body as put all your strength into a punch that lands right against his jaw. It's not much, but it's enough to knock him off kilter as you kick — successfully knocking him off of you and shakily stand to your feet, wasting no time running for the living room. 

It’s naive to think you could make it, but you try, only to have hope crushed as he grabs the back of your shirt in his fist, keeping you locked in place and the door well out of reach. 

It couldn’t end this way, you wouldn’t let it. 

You reach for the closest thing to you and it’s a potted plant in a vase. A glass vase. You don’t think, just grab the object with all your might and swing—

It shatters and he’s down. There's blood pooling below his head, but everything is quiet. You can’t believe what you’ve done. You reach your hands out, your natural instinct to heal has become muscle memory for you, but you pull them back.

He’s out like a light. He’s done.  

You look around the silent home and realize it’s only you. No bystanders, no prying eyes. Just you. So you do the only thing you can at that moment. 

You run. 

You run as fast as you can and as far as you can. 

Your first steps to freedom. 

The air is crisp. It's the only thing you can think of as your short inhales shake your body. You can’t remember where you are, what you were doing who you were with—

Until… until there's the crack of a can, the fizz of its contents bubbling and you can smell the sugary sweet soda inside. 

Tomura is in front of you, he’s still sitting and his expression is as neutral as you’ve ever seen it, but he’s holding something out to you. His energy drink. 

You blink once, twice, three times as you look from his carmine eyes back down to the can again. He’s shoving it towards you again and you can only assume he wanted you to take it. 

So you do.

You’re careful not to touch his fingers, even though they remain gloved, and bring the can to your lips. You chanced one last glance at Tomura, worried that deep down this was some kind of test that you were sure to fail, but he had already turned back to the open city. 

The drink is sweeter than you thought and you wonder how he could even drink these — in the middle of the night, no less. But it grounds you. It gives you something else to focus on.

You turn back to the sky,

“It’s getting cold out.” You speak, wanting nothing more than to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

The sun is starting to rise over the horizon, the tiniest peek of light through the dark, and the buzz from the energy drink was starting to rouse in your veins.

It’s a fleeting feeling — temporary, like the hazy memories of your nightmares. 

“Do you think I did the right thing?” The question falls from your lips before you can catch it, but you don’t regret asking. 

You liked to hear Shigaraki’s opinions. 

“Yeah.” He looks off into the distance, mind as far away as his gaze. He is deep in thought and you wonder if it’s about his past. “I do.”

You wished the sky looked different — a little less gray and a little more bright. 

Like there were actually stars looking down on you both. They’re not visible with all of the light pollution of a busy city, but you wished they were. At least it would be something to keep your eye on while you sat out here with Shigaraki. 

Something to distract you from the gnawing feeling in your chest. The one that screams at you about how close you were to danger. 

It’s easy to ignore. Shigaraki makes it easy. 

He is stoic by nature, but there are little actions, small things that show you he listens. 

You’ll have to prepare for the mission soon, but right now moments like these are nice.

Fleeting, like ash in the wind.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura x reader #mha x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my works #tomura shigaraki x you

[ickle-anthology]

I’d like to be optimistic and say this will be short and sweet, however it has grown increasingly apparent that I do nothing by half measures. I suppose if you’re going to do a job - do it properly. Go big or go home, right? 

I’m trying to learn how to set healthy boundaries, which is extremely challenging for an empath that feels everything as deeply as I do and has been through the things that I’ve been through. I suppose my need to people please stems from wanting to help and lighten the load in anyway possible for the people I care deeply about at the expense of my own peace. It’s even more unbearable when I have walked in their shoes with and know what it’s like when you have nowhere to turn to, unfortunately helping doesn’t always go the way I intend but at-least I can say I tried and gave it my all, and by doing so leaves my conscious clear and unburdened. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of awful things in my life, some worse than others and some that have left lasting scars that I’m still sowing up- but I actually quite like me, however I acknowledge that there’s always room for improvement. I have a long list of things that I can’t change but would happily sell my soul to the devil to alter. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that some things aren’t meant to be changed and that no response is a response. Let’s be honest, you can’t be everyone’s cuppa tea otherwise you’d be a mug. 

You ever known what you needed to do but struggled to find the strength to do it? That’s the current predicament I’m faced with. The past few weeks I’ve had a lot of time to digest and reflect on the changes that have happened in my life - recent and not so recent changes. Up until recently, I considered myself to be a healed woman but I realise now that healing isn’t a linear path and the more I experience different things, the more I realise I’m still on that healing journey - and that’s ok, being honest with myself about it is probably the best thing I can do. I like to think I always look for best in people, that I can feel the good in them. But like with anything in this universe, there must be balance and everything that goes up, must come down eventually... I see the undesirable and distasteful flaws too, I don’t look at the world through a looking glass and I’m not as naive as some people may choose to believe. I have this uncanny ability to read people like books, and without a doubt my silence gets mistaken for an absence of knowledge, when it’s quite the opposite in fact. I’m a firm believer that you shouldn’t open your mouth and comment on something unless you know it’s accurate and have the ability to back it up. So with that statement, if you are on the receiving end of me opening my mouth about a subject, then prepare to be slapped with the unbias, and unadulterated truth - which as we know, can be more cold and callous than any lie. Everything I do, I do for a reason. I strategically and methodologically analyse every situation and every possible outcome of it so I am able to understand it but ultimately protect myself. One of my favourite quotes is that ‘the truth always prevails in the end’ and boy does it ever. 

It grows more evident the older I get that this ability I have to read people is an unconscious decision that stems from being hyper vigilant. It does present its problems though, like causing the feeling of being constantly stuck between the stages of fight, flight or freeze, it’s a blessing and a curse - one would say oxymoronic at its true core. Life has always been so black and white for me, and learning grey has been exhausting, both mentally and physically but truly worth it in hindsight. Im allowing colour to trickle back into my life slowly though and it’s given me the foresight to see the world (and the people in it) in a different light, just like a kaleidoscope. Up until a few years ago, I was always so sure of the person I was, but the past few years really made me question everything I know about people… myself included. I got hurt by people that I never thought were capable of the things they did, and lost people that I thought would be in my life indefinitely. Some things have become so deeply imbedded in my soul that they occasionally weep, so I guess you could say nothing ceases to surprise me anymore. I always say that I’m going to hope for the best and prepare for the worst but preparing for the worst has become somewhat of a ritual for me and I grow evermore cautious of hope with each passing day. 

Without a doubt, the biggest and hardest pill to swallow as of recent months has been that not everyone has a good heart just because I do. More importantly, just because I treat people with kindness, understanding and compassion, doesn’t mean I’ll receive the same treatment back. I’ve realised that over the past few weeks that it reflects more about them and their character, than it does me. Not everyone has the same moral compass as me, nor everyone has a big heart full of love like me and some people are only interested in saving their own skins - don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with protecting your peace. But there’s a difference between protecting your peace and remaining silent and then lying and stonewalling those individuals, especially when they try to communicate in a healthy way with you about a problem. We all mess up, but I think what’s important is owning your behaviours. It’s come to my attention that not everyone I’ve crossed paths with have spent the time looking at their own maladaptive coping mechanisms. They haven’t given themselves the respect to understand or recognise where the dysregulation stems from, and as a direct result from that, it allows for an inability to correct their behaviour at its root stem and be better in the future - so they are just stuck in the same cycles. I’ve realised that you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink, and if this is the bed they chose to make then let them sleep in it. Theres nothing wrong with feeling emotions in that precise moment though and giving yourself time to sit in your grief, but I emphasise that no joy ever comes from wallowing in them for prolonged periods of time and there is a time where you will have to deal with those feelings and situations head on before they swallow you whole. 

I think for now I’ll enjoy sitting back, remaining humble and continue to people watch. They say time heals all wounds but I think time only gives us the ability to reflect and process those wounds. If we don’t deal with the monsters under our beds, and the damage they cause to ourselves and others, then they never really go away - they just get better at hiding by wearing a mask. Inevitably, they always trickle back in and just like clockwork, they always come full circle. Poetically, it’s always at the least desirable moment and before you know it, you’re weeping through the cuts you scrambled so desperately to bandage. The right path is not always the path with least resistance, we all know what we need to do but it’s just finding the strength to do it. You really do get back what you put into the universe.

#Healing #people pleaser #heartbreak #trauma #therapy #abuse survivor #mental health #positive mental attitude #psychology #mental illness #friendship breakup

[hard-core-super-star]

Random thought popped into my head but it's about vampire Kate x reader. What if reader was a witch of some sort who got her heart broken because Kate is an fboy and became terrified and left when she realized how much she loved the reader but came crawling back a year later because she needed reader's witchy help and they ended up casually flirting because they clearly still have feelings for each other and stuff

ain't that the kicker [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate x reader

summary: the morning after your late-night encounter with kate doesn't go quite as planned...and neither does the day after that or the day after that. [aka you and kate have way more issues than you thought]

warnings: none, i think?; did somebody order angst?; so much tension, you need more than one knife; i rob you of a longer wanda scene; cliffhanger ending because this got too long; weird vampire powers that are badly explained; very long dream sequences; a surprising lack of actual vampire stuff [i badly need to rewatch first kill]; idiots in love but emphasis on the idiots!

wodcount: 3.2k

a/n: hey everyone, my motivation was pretty dead for a while but, unsurprisingly, vampire kate brought it back! and before you all freak out, YES! THERE WILL BE ANOTHER PART! and maybe it'll be less sad and more spicy, who knows? anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and my constant disappearing act. my second year at university is wrapping up so hopefully you’ll see more of me this summer ;) that's all i have to say, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Saying going home with Kate Bishop had been a bad idea would be a massive understatement.

You knew being alone with the heir of Bishop Security would come with problems but the problems all seemed relatively small compared to the continuous waves of pleasure you had been under all night.

To be fair, though, you never expected a grainy picture of you on Kate's lap to be part of that list of problems. You had expected some awkwardness from the charming brunette, the usual "we can't do this again" speech while actively making out in some random storage closet, maybe even some weird looks from your co-workers to further complicate things.

Your original plan had featured everything except you going viral overnight and waking up to the biggest PR disaster to ever hit Bishop Security. (Which is saying a lot considering the many one-night stand scandals Kate always finds herself wrapped up in)

You had so many ideas of what the morning after would be like but none of them included you waking up to an empty bed and a large pit in your stomach that tells you you fucked up big time.

Maybe it had been your fault, maybe you had been too naive for thinking you could really have it all.

Or maybe Kate was right. Maybe she had a longer list of enemies than you had been willing to entertain.

There were far too many “maybe’s” in your mind, an overwhelming amount of notifications on your phone, and you had no idea where Kate had gone.

You’re not sure how long you spend scrolling through Twitter and avoiding all the texts filled with unanswerable questions from your co-workers but eventually, you manage to regain control of yourself and get up from the archer’s ridiculously comfortable bed. You do your best to ignore how shaky your legs are as you get dressed, your mind unfortunately drifting to the night before.

You manage to find your way to the kitchen where there's a full spread of, slightly burnt, breakfast waiting for you. Your heart swells as you read the messy handwriting on the post-it note next to the biggest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen.

Morning, sunshine. I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I made a bit of everything. Eat as much as you can, you’ll need a lot of food and water to recover from last night ;) - Kate

It’s impossible to stop the wave of relief that crashes into you after reading that.

As impossible as it feels, you allow yourself to believe things will be fine. That Kate will stick by your side after opening up to you about her supernatural abilities.

But the fantasy doesn’t last long.

You’re halfway through your breakfast when you hear the front door slam shut with so much force you briefly wonder if the hinges came off. It takes no more than fifteen seconds for the archer to appear in front of you, her shoulders tense and an unreadable storm in her eyes.

Her posture already tells you the answer to the question forming on your lips but you ask anyway. “Everything okay?”

She seems almost startled by the sound of your voice as if hearing you makes you real.

It makes the mess you’re both in real.

“No,” she sighs. “I have some shitty news.”

“Shittier than being called a slut by all of New York?” You reply, unable to stop the urge to make her smile.

Kate doesn’t fully smile but she does let out a small chuckle, her shoulders dropping into a less tense position as the sound escapes her. “Yeah…shittier than that.”

You should’ve known where the conversation was headed. Should’ve realized there was no way you’d be able to have it all. No way for you to continue with your life as if nothing had happened.

Maybe you are too naive because you truly didn’t see her next sentence coming.

“y/n…I have to fire you and we...we can’t do this again. This has to be goodbye.”

Everything crashes into you at once.

The realization of what you’ve actually done, the stupid ease with which Kate is cutting you out of her life, the betrayal of her practically kicking you out onto the streets. You’re not an idiot, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your apartment, your humble yet expensive life in New York, without your job.

Without her.

“You…you’re serious? You’re throwing me out just like that?”

“It’s not easy for me either-”

“It looks pretty damn easy, Kate.” You scoff.

“You’re not the one who spent her whole morning getting chewed out by her mom.” Her words come out like an afterthought, like she knows just how badly she’ll fuck up if you hear the annoyance behind them.

Unfortunately for her, you hear her loud and clear.

“Oh, come on. That’s your excuse? You had one bad conversation with your mom and suddenly I don’t mean anything?”

She doesn’t reply and her silence only serves to stoke the flames of fury and resentment rising within your chest.

“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in the last hour? How many coworkers have tried to blackmail me already? Do you understand just how much of my life this has ruined? And you have the audacity to act like you have it hard?”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about my life,” she spits back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Katherine. If I didn’t know you, if you didn’t care, why the hell did you tell me your dirty little secret?”

She blinks, taken aback by the hard-hitting truth you throw her way.

If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t notice the way she nervously fidgets with her fingers or the way she bites down on her lower lip while she tries to come up with something to say. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t know she’s hurting underneath.

You do know her, though, but knowing her isn’t enough if she’s not willing to let you stay.

So, because you do know her…you walk away.

It feels like giving up in the most infuriating of ways but it’s the only thing you can do. If Kate’s mind is made up, there’s no amount of reason that will get her to change. That’s another thing about her you’ve learned the hard way.

So you swallow your pride and walk away with no plan, no job, no way of supporting yourself. If you were a more spiteful person, you would have applied for a job at Stark Industries but instead, you do the second hardest thing you’ve ever done.

You restart.

It’s a bitter defeat and still, you pack up your things and pay an old friend a visit.

You had left Wanda behind after the Westview fiasco but she’s the only person you can think of running to after your entire life went up in flames. All it takes is one quick spell and the realization that a life without dark magic isn’t one you can live before you’re standing on the porch of her small cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Saying she’s disappointed would be an understatement, especially since she explicitly warned you not to fall in love with Kate Bishop. It’s hard to believe the witch knew about Kate’s vampire secret but you also wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what awaited you the second you left for New York.

Unfortunately, you had to learn things the hard way.

You could write multiple books on everything you’ve learned the hard way.

At the top of that list, though, is the true extent of a certain archer’s vampire powers.

It takes less than a month for Kate to reach you again…through your dreams. Dreams that feel far too real and leave you a tad bit more breathless than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

The first time it happens, you assume it’s one of Wanda’s new tricks, maybe it’s her way of helping you cope with what (or rather who) you’ve left behind. You think it’s weird but maybe a tad bit sweet and you make a mental note to ask her about it in the morning.

It’s not until you realize that you’re actively thinking that you start to worry.

To make matters worse, you’re inside Kate’s apartment…and she quite literally stumbles out of her bedroom to see you standing in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, shit.” She groans.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. You know you’re just dreaming and yet it all feels so real. It’s like you can feel her eyes on you, hear the way your heart won’t stop pounding in your ears.

Your confusion must be written all over your face because she answers your question before you can even ask it.

“Yes, you are dreaming but this isn’t like a normal dream.”

“What the fuck happened to you not being a mind reader?” You blurt out.

You wait for that stupid smirk of hers to appear, maybe with a half-assed shrug and a semi-charming joke, but it never comes. “My dream, my rules, I guess.”

“That still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

A beat of silence goes by before she sort of gives you an answer. “I can explain but you might hate me afterwards.”

The look in her eyes says more than you can possibly handle right now. You’ve never known Kate to be particularly insecure but all you can see in those blue depths is fear and insecurity. Fear that your feelings for her have changed, that you already hate her and never want to hear from her again.

Too bad you’ve never been good at lying.

“Try me.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up into a small smile. “Long story short, we’re bonded. That’s why we’re in each other’s dreams.”

There’s a bigger question to be asked but you’re still a little freaked out by how real this all feels. By how intense your feelings for her still are.

“But this isn’t like a normal dream, is it?”

“Nope, perks of having vampire powers.”

“So, you can do everything except read minds?” You can’t help but tease her like all the times before. “That sucks.”

“Shut up,” she says with an over-dramatic roll of her eyes.

A calm silence falls over both of you and you hate how normal it feels. How just like that, you forget your anger and the betrayal you’ve felt every minute since the day you left New York in favor of falling for her stupidly enchanting self all over again.

It doesn’t help that with every second, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller.

You don’t know who takes the first step, all you know is you blink and suddenly she’s standing right in front of you, those soft blue eyes of hers searching for the truth you can’t hide.

“y/n,” she murmurs, her hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

She’s technically not wrong, leaving because of her incapability to deal with her feelings was the last thing you wanted, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

She didn’t give you any other choice.

And now she’s here, staring at you with that wounded puppy look she so effortlessly embodies.

“I wanted you,” you whisper in response. “When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

She chuckles, the sound warm but nervous. Her hand moves to cup your face and her touch is so soft, it leaves you breathless for a moment. “Never, I’m too stubborn for that, remember?”

You can’t help but tease her as the atmosphere shifts into something more affectionate than you’d like. “How could I forget? It’s your worst trait.”

“Ouch. Is that how you treat your favorite vampire?”

“Aw, poor little vampire baby.”

You wait for her to make one of her usual jokes but she doesn’t.

Instead, her eyes drift down to your lips and your mind instantly goes blank.

There’s an endless list of reasons why you shouldn’t do it. Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t a bad idea. Then again…when has that ever stopped you from being with Kate Bishop?

It’s subtle but you lean forward just enough to give her the invitation she’s too much of a gentleman to ask for. Her eyes widen the slightest bit before she meets you in the middle, the space between your lips becoming nonexistent in the span of a few seconds.

You try your hardest to hold on to your self control, to not seem as desperate as you’ve felt since that first night, but it’s useless. Your hands grip the front of her shirt in an attempt to pull her closer despite how insane everything is.

You’re simply dreaming and yet you can feel every touch, every breath, every desperate effort to make your desires a reality. You would feel embarrassed if Kate wasn’t acting the same way.

Her lips leave yours only to trail down to your neck, her fangs instantly teasing the sensitive skin she finds. The anticipation builds inside your chest as she toys with you and it’s all you can do not to beg for more.

“Kate.” Her name leaves your lips in the form of a whisper that disappears just as fast as it formed.

All you hear is her sharp intake of breath before it all fades to black.

Your eyes snap open and you’re greeted with the absolute silence you’re starting to associate with Wanda’s cabin. All you can do is lay there in the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears while your fingers trace the spot Kate’s lips had just been on.

It had all felt so real and now you’re all alone again. It shouldn’t be surprising at this point and yet you still hold on to the hope Kate will come looking for you.

But she doesn’t.

All she does is haunt your dreams in the most literal way possible. She doesn’t come to find you and fix your many, many issues, instead, she simply appears in your dreams long enough to send your mind reeling without offering any solutions.

You wish you could hate her for doing this to you but you can’t.

You love her.

Worse than that, you love her more and more each night. Even though it’s not nearly enough to heal any of your wounds, and maybe it only serves to hurt you more, it’s definitely addicting.

Wanda offers to help you sever the connection between you and Kate, something about a spell she read in the Darkhold being her only assurance that she knows what she’s doing. You don’t fully trust her on that but you do consider the option for longer than you want to admit.

You reason with yourself that there are much worse things to deal with on a daily basis than highly realistic dreams, though. That being bonded to a vampire isn't the worst thing in the world.

And maybe that would be true…if the vampire in question wasn't Kate Bishop.

You don't know what possesses you to ask but the question slips out in the middle of another midnight rendezvous. It’s been a little over two month since you moved away from New York, a little over two months since you've shared these weird dreams with Kate, when you finally ask.

“What exactly did you do for us to be bonded to each other?”

The question must catch her off guard given the way her eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“You said these weird dreams happen because we’re bonded or something but you never explained how that happened.” You watch the brunette from your spot on the couch and impatiently wait for a response, for something that will help you make sense of everything.

She swallows back her nervousness but gives herself away due to the way she fidgets with the rings on her hand. “Oh, yeah, that…it’s because I bit you that night in my apartment…remember?”

Her awkwardness would be endearing if her response wasn't so damn suspicious.

“Yeah but you're a vampire, biting people is kind of your thing. You're not automatically bonded to every person you bite, right?”

A beat of silence passes before she answers, her voice shaking the slightest bit. “No that…that only happens when there are…certain feelings involved.”

It takes a second for her answer to click in your brain. For her sudden nervousness to hold real meaning.

The answer hits you like a train and it makes your blood boil like nothing else.

“Kate, tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means. Tell me you didn't fire me because you were too afraid of having feelings for me.”

“y/n-”

“For fuck’s sake, Kate!”

The sudden frustration in your voice makes her jump, hundreds of meaningless explanations forming on the tip of her tongue.

You don't hear a word she says.

You can't hear anything besides the pounding in your heart and the devastation that threatens to swallow you whole.

You always knew being with Kate would be impossible but this was something else entirely. This wasn't a lack of feelings between you two, this was too many feelings and too many miles of distance and not one ounce of regret from her.

You're not sure when you stood up from your spot or when she approached you, you simply feel her hand on your waist and the unmistakable sound of her breathing.

“y/n,” she tries again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so tired of hearing you say that.”

“I know.”

The last thing you feel is her lips on the back of your neck before you wake up. Alone. Again.

Wanda must catch on to your desperation because she brings up the idea of cutting your connection with Kate that same morning.

“It’ll only be temporary,” she assures you. “No offense but you need sleep more than you need Kate Bishop.”

“I’m a little offended,” you grumble in response.

Despite your reservations, and the voice in the back of your head that tells you running away again is a bad idea, you go along with her plan. She's right, after all. You definitely need some time away from Kate Bishop and her never-ending messes.

The spell is simpler than you expect and it, thankfully, requires pretty much no effort on your part and no weird liquids.

It does also bring the best sleep you’ve had in months so you can’t complain…even when you wake up missing the sound of the archer’s voice.

You still miss her every day and you're sure that won't change any time soon but you welcome the peace with open arms.

Wanda spends her time teaching you random spells while you help her build a nice flower garden in the backyard. It's weird but…comforting.

You could even get used to life out here someday.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself as the weeks go by.

Until Kate shows up unannounced and flips your world upside down again with those same soft eyes you fell on love with all those months ago.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #vampire kate bishop #kate bishop #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #wlw #wlw fic #writing

[meanbossart]

in your universe, post game does astarion and drow ever wonder about astarions previous life/family and go looking for it/them?

So, I have some vague headcanons of my own regarding Astarion's family! Can't say they're based on much besides whatever vestige we can assume to be Astarion's "base" personality, and what kind of upbringing produces a man like him.

I would say he comes from a upper-middle class family where either his father, mother, or both parents worked in careers of a similar standing to what he eventually would operate in. His role as a magistrate was, at least in part, thanks to nepotism especially when you consider how young he would have been considered at the time for his race. That said, I do believe he must have been highly educated and primed for it from a young age and was intimately knowledgeable about the ins and outs of his job.

He was raised mostly by his father, his mother having been kicked out of the house when he was a child/young teenager after she developed a drinking problem that got steadily out of control. She would have had a spotty presence in his life for a while before eventually fizzling out entirely, neither knowing what became of her. His dad was a fairly emotionally distant man who wanted his son to succeed in life above anything else, so, at the same time that he provided Astarion with everything he needed in terms of resources and education, he was was otherwise absent, and let Astarion get away with pretty much anything as long as it occurred outside his field of view and didn't affect his duties or the family's reputation. Astarion expertly balanced a standard party-drugs-rock&roll lifestyle and his responsibilities as a youth to keep his father out of his hair, only slipping every once in a while.

He would have become distant from his dad as an "adult" (not quite an adult back then within elf culture, but at least a man with a job and a life of his own) and the two only touched base a few times a year at best, and mostly talked about his career.

After Cazador turned him, Astarion would have eventually figured out a way to, every so often, check the mail at his home. At some point he receives a letter letting him know that his father (who no longer resided in Baldur's Gate) passed away.

He tells DU drow about this to the best of his memory shortly after the events of the game, which is to say the he has no longer any living family that he knows of/knows how to contact.

#ask #astarion

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 9)

Uzi was in the snow, V lie dead, nanite tail pierced through her neck. And sword buried in her chest. N lay in her arms, core quickly fading into nothingness. His visor looking betrayed, oil leaking from his split open chassis. His eyelights and visor were dim, growing dimmer.

“No no no no!, I didn't, N please hold on!” She was trying helplessly to put him back together, trying to hold him together herself using her tail, but the damage was too great, his vents began to cycle down, his core stuttering in his chest.

“Fuck! No! Please! I need you!” She cried, but the dying drone in her arms just smiled, taking her cheek and running this thumb over the bottom crease of her visor.

“You'll be okay.”

His system lurched, and a cascading error flashed on his face accompanied by the loud, horrible screech of his audio devices failing, oil spewed from his mouth as he choked on his last breath.

Then it was over, he laid limp and cold, like any other burned out machine on Copper-9.

“N…V…” She choked out before sobbing into her best freinds hat, her entire body shaking with every heavy heave. She didn't mean to, she didn't...

“Uzi?” She heard his voice from behind her, but that wasn't right… he was dead, dead and never coming back and she'd never gotten to tell him how much he meant to her.

“I'm right here Zi.” She felt arms wrapping around her middle from behind her, she could feel his warmth, but she was still holding his cold body, how…?

“It's okay, I'm okay.” She let out a whimper, the oil stained her hands and body, her teeth glistened with it, she felt bile rise in her throat as she realized it was his oil that stained her mouth, that tasted like heaven on earth.

“Hey, look at me.” The N gently hugging her from behind forced her to look at him with his finger, an action that seemed a bit too aggressive for him, but it did the trick. She ripped her gaze away from the N in her arms.

“It's okay, it's not real, I'm real, I'm right here.” He took her cheek in his hand, denting the soft silicone as his fingers traced the same line as the other N had.

Eventually the dead N in her arms faded away, and the one holding her caressed her cheek, looking at her oh so sweetly, she buried herself into him, not quite believing he was real.

The oil staining her body seemed to evaporate, the fuzziness in her head seemed to slowly clear, although it left her head slightly tender.

“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…” She whimpered out, she'd lost control, she'd begun to overheat and this time nothing had brought her out of it until both N and V lay lifeless in the snow.

“I'm here, it's okay.” She felt his tail wrap around hers and hold her there, his hand on her back and pushing her into his chest where she could hear his core-beat. He was alive, he had to be, she knew that sound as if it were her own.

“I…need help, I'm scared N.”

“I know, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out, together.” He took both of her hands into his own, holding them tightly, all but forcing her to look into those honeyed eyes.

“Please… don't leave me…” one of his hands moved to her cheek, pulling her visor into his, their foreheads met with a light tap from the glass.

“Never.” He purred, sqeezing her hand and pulling it into his chest, where she could still feel his core humming away, grounding her. They remained like that for a long time, until her breathing evened out and her logical thinking returned to her.

“This is a dream… isn't it?” She asked N, and at first he didn't respond, but then his eyes opened and he looked at her with a small smile.

“You're always so smart Zi.” He hummed, still holding her, still pressing his visor against hers. He was so warm.

“You're not the real N either.”

“Yes… No? I'm a real as you want me to be.” His voice went slightly deeper, a blush covering his visor, eyelights heavy in an expression not unlike the one he wore in the nursery.

“Ugh… cliche.” She rolled her eyes but still found herself smiling, this was a much nicer dream, even if this still wasn't the real N. Although it was weird that she couldn't force herself to wake up after she figured out it was a dream.

“But it made you laugh.” He grinned, before his expression changed again, back to sweet, back to loving. Back to making her core flutter with how he was looking at her.

“You want me to kiss you, right?” He asked, cocking his head like it was a completely normal question and not asking about a kiss. She felt her entire artificial nervous system alight.

“I… No. I don't.” She lied terribly, something dream N caught onto immediately, somehow pressing them closer without closing what little gap there was between their visors.

“You're a terrible lair Zi.” He whispered, sending chills up her back as his expression changed again into something she'd never seen on his face before. Longing.

“Even if I do, you aren't the real N.” She hissed, feeling too soft and falling back onto being prickly, all he did was laugh though, much like the real N whenever she fell back into habit with him.

“Then tell the real N. Or stop pretending you don't want this and kiss me.” He said simply, which sounded more like something that would come out of V’s mouth than N’s, but Uzi couldn't bring herself to argue. Instead finding herself drawn in by how… forward he was being.

She looked away, still feeling his warmth, his core humming, his hand caressing her face like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. Well… this was just a dream, it's not like anyone would know.

And so she looked back, nervously smiling leaning in closer.

He did the same, his hand falling to her hip as he closed the gap…

And she snapped awake.

“Agh… huh?” It felt as though she was slapped by a wet peice of meat, her head groggy and limbs feeling fuzzy.

Most of all though, she felt warm. Which could only mean that the real N was the one that was radiating that warmth, and his core-beat humming gently next to her head.

She squeaked, blushing so hot she felt it burn her neck. She was as close to him as she could possibly get, legs tangled in his, hands gripping the fur of his jacket, and tail wound tightly around his.

Thank Robo-God he was asleep, otherwise she may have overheated and died right there and then. What a way to go.

His hat had been jostled off, revealing more of his platinum blonde hair, he was snoring lightly, and his tail twitched a little, followed by an incomprehensible mumble.

He looked adorable.

She went over her memories of the night before, the events being foggy, at best. Only to find her blush getting larger as she realized how out of it she'd been.

She'd called him a bird! Please bury her in the corpse spire where she'd never be found.

But it wasn't entirely her fault, her dreams had been so… vivid lately, even the one she'd just awoken from had been rather tame, nothing compared to the lovecraftian horrors she'd normally had to face. She never seemed to get much sleep.

She checked her charge, surprised to see that the first time in a long time, she was fully charged.

“Huh… thanks N.” She mumbled, slowly unwinding herself from his rather tight grip. Putting her tail away and looking around, trying to find her beanie, only to find it lodged in N's grip.

She leaned forward and pulled it gently, trying to snatch in back, only for his grip to immediately tighten, and a small growl escape from his chassis.

Well that was new.

“N, it's me, gimme my beanie.” She said flatly, pulling a little harder.

At the sound of her voice his growl immediately died, and his grip loosened allowing her to pull it out of his grasp.

“Zi…” He mumbled, causing a violet blush to invade her visor, immediately reminded of her dream, she wasn't sure what drew her in with that nickname.

“Yeah, I'm here goober.” She replied back, putting on her beanie and fixing her hair, which was much less tangled than usual. Weird.

She stood up, looking around N's nest, it was filled with salvaged blankets, pillows, and plush animals, covering up the macabre walls of the corpse spire with as much as possible.

She wondered how this effected him, sleeping in a structure made of his past victims, not all of them were his doing sure, but many were. Would he want to move into the bunker? Move out of this giant reminder of his pain?

She'd have to ask.

She stretched, letting out her wings and tail again to stretch them up and out as well before scrambling up the spire using the hands on her wings to check up on it's other inhabitant.

Only to find V was gone, her near empty nest vacant. Only a strip of paper laid on the edge, ripped straight from a notebook.

Lissy’s

Was the only thing written in loopy, cursive handwriting, Uzi couldn't help but smile a little bit. For a drone hellbent on murder, she sure had a soft spot for the popular drone.

While there wasn't a lot in V's nest, there were some personal items, namely a pair of glasses, a digital makeup set, her prom dress, and a knife sharpener. Because of course, it was V.

There was also a singular plush, an old ratted one that looked ancient. It was a dog, more specifically a golden retriever. With a once white, now yellow, bone in it's mouth.

Uzi felt her core pang with a split second of jealousy, even though she shouldn't and it was wildly out of place. V had a soft spot for N, they'd been… close, for lack of a better word. And Uzi knew that, she'd seen both their memories, and she also knew V had changed a lot since then, if she still harbored feelings, she didn't show them very well.

After jealousy, she felt happy that maybe they'd be able to rekindle some sort of friendship out of whatever mess they had going on right now. They both deserved that, even if V would fight like hell rather than ever admit that was something she would want.

They were rather alike in that way.

She shook it off, put the note back where it was and flew further up the spire into J’s nest, which was completely empty. Save for one item. A framed picture of a young human girl, with the insignia Tessa.

That and a shit ton of JCJenson pens, all stacked neatly in the corner. Good old OCD.

She let out a sigh before letting herself glide down back to edge of N's nest, where he'd fallen over, curling around his own hat that he was gripping tightly. His nanite canister next to his head.

It was still light out, although the sun was getting rather low in sky, beginning to tint the sky a pastel pink.

So she sat watching it go down, a hand on N's back, and swiped through her playlist, oh wait…

She'd forgotten she'd added Eternal Dream to her playlist, and she'd seen he'd saved it to his own system, a blush made it's way to her face, happy he liked it but embarrassed he'd heard it.

She'd listened to it on repeat the entire week after prom, committing the entire thing to permanent memory, it was sappy as hell and she'd never admit it, but it was one of the only songs she'd ever sung; In the privacy of her room of course.

Still, she set it to play as her fingers found their way into his hair, untangling the strands, she felt him relax, a low purr coming from his chassis.

And she smiled.

#biscuitbites #murder drones #murder drones n #murder drones nuzi #murder drones uzi #md n #nuzi #md nuzi #md uzi #n and uzi #serial designation n #uzi doorman #uzi has freaky dreams #another short one #prepping to kick the plot in gear #V exists #she's just being petty #robot gore #but like series typical gore

[buddierecs]

secret relationship buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

our love is all we need (to make it through) by: chimneysrebar "buck and eddie decide to hide their relationship from their friends. It goes about as well as you would expect" word count: 3.1k important tags: sleepy cuddles, eddie diaz loves evan buckley, firehouse 118 crew as family, fluff

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft by: justhockey “i don’t think you need a dad, that’s not how families work, right? like, they all look different,” chris says. “but it’s okay if you want one. there’s nothing wrong with that.” “what’s it like, having two?” denny asks, and buck has to cover his mouth so he doesn’t give himself away. christopher’s laugh is loud, and sweet, and tugs on buck’s heartstrings in the same way that it always has done. he doesn’t even hesitate to say, “it’s fun. i love them.” word count: 4k important tags family fluff, soft eddie diaz, christopher diaz has two dads, firehouse crew as family it's golden, like daylight by: rarakiplin "the sun comes up" word count: 8.7k important tags: getting together, weddings, fluff, first dates when you come home by: 7ate9 "buck was surviving. that was the least he could do. survive with his son, his new position as a probationary firefighter, while his fiance was overseas. it was too painful to talk about. so no one could know." word count: 19k important tags: army!eddie diaz, reunions, firehouse 118 crew as family, engaged!evan buckley/eddie diaz don't tell my husband (he'll kill me) by: coupe_de_foudre all bobby has to say, as buck is hightailing it towards danger, is a low, threatening, “don’t make me call eddie.” and buck will skid to a stop, pause, and eventually turn around and slink back towards the team like a scolded dog with his tail between his legs." word count: 2.6k important tags: army!eddie diaz, hurt/comfort, light angst, married buddie, pov outsider blindspot by ashwinmeird "hen was starting to accept that buck's life would always be a mystery to her and the others. Then the 136 gets a new probie, eddie diaz, and buck doesn't appear to be the guy's biggest fan. but there's something, some secret, hen isn't privy to and she was going to get to the bottom of whatever was happening between buck and eddie." word count: 10k important tags: alternative universe, pov outsider, oblivious, confusion, relationship reveal

give me a sign, i want you next to me by: 42hrb the 118 knows buck has a really cute kid and a partner he loves, they just think that partner is his husbands ex. word count: 7k important tags: army!eddie diaz, different first meeting au, married buddie, evan buckley and shannon diaz friendship, family fluff and the winner is.... by: heartsdalliances "when maddie convinces buck to join her and the rest of the couples of the 118 on a couples game-show with eddie as his partner, he does so hesitantly, if only because he knows that by the end of it -- the rest of the team will realize he and Eddie are way more than best friends." word count: 18k important tags: game show, fluff, angst, 118 team as family

there's a rumor going around (about me and you) by: justhockey “$100 says he’s not taking a girl home tonight,” eddie wagers. all four of them look at him with stunned looks on their faces, as if they can’t possibly believe eddie is being so stupid. eddie shrugs, holds his arms out in a take it or leave it kind of gesture. of course, they all think he’s insane, so -- “deal,” athena says." word count: 3.1k important tags bets and wagers, drinking, clingy!eddie diaz, karaoke, coming out, flirting welcome to the family by: shutupheather "eddie gets hurt on the job. the team meets and comforts his husband in the hospital waiting room." word count: 3.4k important tags: married buddie, alternative universe, hurt!eddie diaz, worried!evan buckley finally found it right here by: justhockey "he just wants to sleep. but then eddie is placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and shaking. - “buck, what did you just say?” - buck huffs out a sigh. “i said maddie is in lab-“ - Oh fuck. word count: 3.4k important tags: coming out, babies, fluff

explicit rated secret relationship fics

#will definitely be doing a pt2 for this trope #911 fandom #911 show #911 abc #911 fox #buck x eddie #buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #buddie fics #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 #secret relationship #book tropes

[dokries]

goldleaf

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x gender neutral reader

genre: angst, hanahaki au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: no happy ending, mentions of death + implied main character death…eventually, One mention of swearing, unrequited love, the normal hanahaki au things (blood, throwing up, etc.)

author note: um so guess who found out she can actually write angst! it’s written in joshua’s pov the entire time and reader is just kinda in the background (they’re still important though!) also, if you want a lil more info about how i wrote this, check out my reblog! lots of love ♡

masterlist

when joshua sees you with them, he can’t deny that he feels…more than he wishes he did.

he’s sick and tired of the hollowness in his chest but it’s fine. it’ll all be fine once he sees you happy, right? that's what he says to convince himself before looking up at the sky and seeing you in the shape of the clouds and the way the sun hits them and himself.

fuck, he’s in too deep to continue to believe the sorry excuse he’s made up for himself to feel a little better. it never helps anyway, so why keep using it? he lets it go, imagining it fluttering away on a breeze that reminds him way too much of the person always on his mind.

so when the tingling in his throat comes out as petals the same golden like the colour he imagines your soul to be, he isn’t surprised. as he exits the bathroom, he avoids jeonghan’s gaze, promises that he’ll be fine; after all, it’s just a cold—whatever it takes to keep his best friend from worrying. at least he knows his promises won’t be worth much anyway.

he sees you often, your smile as cheery as the flowers haunting him in his dreams and the ones sticking to his lungs, trapped in his chest. he’s alright, he tells himself. he’ll be fine.

he doesn’t go to the doctor. he’s read and seen enough of what’s happening to him, and he knows the choice he’ll have to make if he goes. he knows that the only solution is to forget, but he would never do that. he can’t let go of wandering around in the wheat fields that one summer you two were in the countryside, or the time you laughed and laughed at a joke that wasn’t funny, or when he lost all hope and you were there, making sure he could get back up again and live. if the price of keeping the memories he holds close is death, he’s okay with it.

joshua doesn’t tell his roommates. he knows that jeonghan and seungcheol would drag him to the emergency room against his will, and force him to take the option he’s already decided against. he wouldn’t let them sway him anyway, but it’s easier if they don’t know. however, time seems to choose to leave the bathroom—even when it seems to be going too fast for joshua’s liking these days—when jeonghan finds him hovering over the sink, bloody tissues in his hand and washed petals placed carefully on the side.

the two of them say nothing.

jeonghan leaves, and joshua turns to the mirror above the sink, taking a good look at himself. he wipes off the dried blood on his top lip, noticing nothing else wrong. he doesn’t realize that after he leaves, jeonghan is horrified by the lack of light in his friend’s eyes, the spark he thought would never go out.

jeonghan hasn’t said anything since, lost in his thoughts every time he’s home. seungcheol is freaked out, not understanding the dead silence in the house. he doesn’t know that he’ll have to pay more for rent in…well, however long it takes for joshua’s lungs to finally fill up with your flowers. joshua knows he’s being cruel, but can’t he be allowed to be selfish in his last moments? is that too much to ask for after everything?

he doesn’t approach jeonghan, and instead writes. he writes journal entries in that notebook you got him a few years back, but he never used it because he was too scared to mess up in something you gave him; letters to those he’ll miss. he revises the one for his mother over and over again, crumpling paper like his lungs.

joshua doesn’t try to hide anything from seungcheol. he knows that his housemate’s blank expression means more than what he says. in fact, there is nothing said; their house is a place to rest and eat and nothing else. it’s as if there’s three ghosts, not just a single potential one. joshua sighs, wheezing out more petals. he grabs them hastily, making sure they don’t fall to the ground or worse, onto your letter. he carries them gently in his bloodied hands to the bathroom sink once again, the only companion he seems to have in the past few weeks.

joshua rinses each souvenir of his love one by one, clearing the dark red off before drying them and taking them back to the pile he’s made ever since this started. at first, they were hidden away in a small box on the corner of his desk, so no one would wander in and see them. now, he puts them on his nightstand haphazardly, the dark wood no longer visible under the various shades of yellow and red.

joshua picks up his pen—the expensive one his mom gifted him when he moved away so long ago; he never used it until now. the ink glides smoothly over the clean paper he had taken out earlier. he writes once again.

the only thing he knows how to say now is sorry. he writes it over and over again, signing each letter with the sounds he can barely make in real life, his voice hoarse from the damage done on his throat, and the lack of use.

maybe it’s time for something different? after all, this is for you, and he wants the news to be broken softly. he racks his head for something, anything that he finds good enough to become something real. he drinks the day-old water from the plastic bottle beside him, the familiar taste of blood accompanying it.

he glances at the clock he’s kept beside him since the start, and counts down two seconds; he has no time to waste.

he puts down the words he’s said so often to you that they’ve become a habit but seem to have changed ever since he started throwing up marigolds—a literal reminder of his unrequited love.

it’ll be a bit hard to be there for you when he’s dead, won’t it? joshua doesn’t mind. he never will.

he chuckles dryly, a whole flower falling out. he gets up and repeats his process for the petals before sitting back down.

joshua looks at his handiwork, pausing and adding a few more words before moving his paper to the side, and starting on another letter for his mother.

he stares blearily at the clock again, the red blinking numbers the only comfort he allows himself. it’s a new day.

joshua hopes it’ll finally be his last.

#dokries works #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #hong joshua x reader #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo scenarios #hong joshua imagines #hong jisoo imagines #hong joshua scenarios #hong jisoo angst #hong joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua angst

[strawberry-crocodile]

hi, you asked about the d20 finale drama. i have been following it- i have no idea how familiar you are with d20 as a whole, i know you said you werent keeping up with it so i'll try to explain as best i can!

the most recent season of d20 was fantasy high: junior year. fantasy high takes place in an 80s-inspired (but still has modern day tech- think movies like ferris bueller's day off or the breakfast club) dungeons and dragons setting (so like there are elves, halflings, etc). the main cast are high schoolers going to aguefort academy, where they are learning to be adventurers.

the season had a very disappointing ending for a lot of people. one of the main things that had been set up is that the PC party (the bad kids) had a group of foils, the rat grinders, who all were genderswapped and had the same classes and were generally approached as being foils. the leader of this group is 16 year old kipperlilly copperkettle, a halfling rogue with severe anger issues who, notably, was going to therapy for them but never seemed to improve. it's also later revealed that the rat grinders had been 'rage-starred'- implanted with crystals that make you incandescently angry. this was connected to their activities in sophomore year, where something happened and their cleric, lucy frostblade, died because she was unwilling to accept the rage star- she was later replaced by one of the PCs' younger brother.

it's also important to note that all of these foils had been groomed by their adult teacher, who wanted to bring back a goddess of rage and destroy all the other gods. so naturally a lot of people were like oh we're going to engage with themes of rage vs doubt and how mindless rage is a bad thing and rage vs justice.

um. that didn't happen. the penultimate & final episodes were a giant 'final battle' type of situation where instead of getting engagement with the themes of the story, we get all the characters angrily and brutally killing their foils (one character says they should cut off another (manipulated, mind controlled!) character's head off in order to make sure he can never be revivified; another character tells a 16 year old girl he's going to skin her, turn her into a rug, and have sex on top of her corpse). in the final episode, there is a for-real like half hour long segment where the PCs debate whether any of the 16 year olds 'deserve' to be brought back to life and eventually decide all of them can come back except for kipperlilly, because she willingly accepted the rage star. no acknowledgement that she was like still manipulated or that she was TRYING to get help, or her critiques of the bad kids or of the school or the system...). in the same episode, a PC says "it's also super black and white to think, like, this person was bad, or this person was good" and "they can be bad and still not deserve to be sliced in half" lol. like. okay but you just sliced like 6 teenagers in half?

it's not that i'm opposed to a dnd game where you slice teens in half, btw. it's just that it feels like you get these wildly opposing ideas of 'okay here are the themes that players & the dm are like Saying in roleplay and what they seem to want to believe, and here is what is actually happening in the story, and it's wildly dissonant and leaves a bad taste in my mouth'. (inb4 d20 stans come in and are like but its just an actual play you cant hold it to other artistic standards- Yes I Can lol).

so. yeah. i feel like it's a really good example of how dnd 5e just makes everyone push towards combat as the solution to stuff, and it's further worsened by the way d20 works where bc they make these huge set pieces, so many different campaigns end in like, a final battle on this (frankly gorgeous) miniature set up. which is lovely, but means that players and production and the DM are pushing toward combat as the resolution even when it doesn't necessarily fit, and makes them look towards combat as the only way out in a lot of situations. and it really makes roleplay suffer. i must also say that it's been widely acknowledged that this season of d20 suffered for like, a lot of shooting crammed into a short amount of time, so people really didnt have a lot of time to reflect on their decisions the way they did in sophomore year where they had like a week between sessions to think over the plot and what could happen and what's next.

Oh my god that is way fucking worse than I expected holy shit.

Anyway yeah i HAVE to think about how like.... the rules for combat in Thirsty Sword Lesbians by design use that combat as a way to create an emotional connection between combatants and set up roleplaying opportunities (instead of taking 1d8+4 damage, your opponent inflicts something like Angry or Insecure on you). One of the like dozen generic actions is to use Strings (emotional influence you can get from fighting someone) to like... influence people and change their perspective, often during a combat situation.

So like. Yeah. If THAT was what everyone's character sheet looked like I imagine they might have, yknow, tried to interact with NPC goals and personalities instead of interacting with their hit points

#blogodile #anti 5e action