#because he’s ROUGH and it HURTS and she’s sobbing the whole time

[norrizzandpia]

Lacy (Part 2) (Oscar Ending) (LN4 and OP81)

Summary: It might not be the happy ending he was expecting, but it’s a happy ending nonetheless.

Warnings: language, sexual conversations

Note: guys… this might be the most beautiful thing I have ever read and while I usually dont like to gloat, THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD GRAB THOSE TISSUES BECAUSE I WAS EVEN TEARING UP DURING THIS bro good luck to yall this is so rough

Note (part 2): ALSO this is the Oscar endgame ending, the lando ending will be published tmrw!!! I just wanted to get this one out first because i know the majority of people are waiting for the osc ending BUT ITS COMING TO THE LANDO GIRLIES I SWEAR <3

Note (part 3): also i will be posting screenshots of the anons I used for this whole storyline in a seperate post so be on the lookout for that after the lando ending comes out

There was never quiet. Quiet entailed her mind not racing with thoughts of Lando and her body to rid itself of the physical pain she was feeling. It was numbing, how hard the hurt hit her. Nothing had ever hurt her in that way. It was a sinking feeling, something that felt so incredibly serious and dark, she was too distraught to get out of bed.

The first few weeks were incredibly hard. She had a hard time eating, sleeping, and everything in between. If it hadn’t been for Lando telling Oscar to go check up on her, probably no one would have thought twice about her. The first time he saw her, the Australian quietly knocking on her door, he was terrified.

Y/n had been the first friend he made at McLaren. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Lando or his engineer, it was Y/n. Maybe it was because she was lonely herself, but the two had grown closer over the time he had been driving at McLaren, getting close enough for her to learn the real reason why he left Alpine in the way he did and him getting to understand the deep mess that was her and Lando. He never agreed with the way Lando treated her, but who was he to say anything? All he could do was sit off to the side and try to subtly comfort her when he made her feel unimportant.

Nevertheless, to walk into her apartment and see the state it was in as well as her dark eye bags and frail frame, Oscar was concerned. That morning he had coaxed her back to bed before making her breakfast, sitting with her on her mattress and making sure she ate every last bit. He had been so worried for her, he canceled his plans that day and cooked her every meal, fed her every snack, and, in between, watched the most outrageous reality TV he had ever seen.

Then, it became a routine.

He would show up at her apartment early in the morning to make breakfast with her before going on a long walk. Then, they’d come back, watch a movie and he’d have to leave, saddening, but not too much seeing as they both knew he’d be back in the night to make her dinner and lay her back in bed when she fell asleep on the couch after their reality TV show binge.

Then, somehow, feelings arose.

Oscar wasn’t sure when they developed, but one moment he was watching her laugh and thinking how happy he was to see that pretty sign of happiness on her face. After he recognized that, he continued to recognize how he always stayed late enough, no matter what time, that she fell asleep on his shoulder and he had to pick her up, wrap her in his arms, and lay her back in bed. He recognized how his hand constantly reached out for hers on walks when cars would fly so quickly past them and, for a split second, he became protective.

He wanted his feelings to stop, to not be real, because of Lando. However, the boy continued to date Luisinha even after everything that happened with Y/n, something Oscar was completely filled in on one night when Y/n began to sob to him about her inner turmoil.

It wasn’t until their feelings truly came out that Oscar realized there was no way he could push them down any longer, not when she loved him too.

It had been a peaceful Sunday night, one without the stressors of racing or work, just the two of them with full bellies glued next to each other on her couch, watching another stupid episode of Love Island.

Her head had been laying on his chest and his arms had been slung around her body, pulling her into him so unbelievably close. When a particular scene came on, the two girls and one guy yelling at each other because he had manipulated both of them into thinking he loved them both, Oscar noticed his shirt getting a bit wet. His eyes averted away from the TV, down to her, only to find her cheeks wet and her hands quickly wiping away the tears.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He whispered, hands rubbing her back gently.

She shook her head, sitting up to rest her elbows on her knees, “It’s nothing. Just their situation.”

It took him a moment to realize, but once he did, he was quick to wrap his arms back around her, “It reminds you of you and Lando.”

“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” His eyebrows furrowed at her response.

“What do you mean?”

She pulled away, eyes staring back at him deeply, “It’s just that- I feel so bad for the girl that had to go through all of that. I feel sad for the girl I was six months ago. I’ve moved on from the pain he caused, but I haven’t moved on from how broken that girl had been. She didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of that.”

He shook his head, his eyes watering at the thing he had been trying to convince her of all this time, “No, you didn’t. You never did.”

Their faces had been so close, with his arms still strongly wrapped around her and hers curled up in his chest. It was inevitable, truly, when he leaned in slightly, silently asking her if he could. When she nudged her nose against his, he let his body do the one thing he had been wishing for for as long as he had known her.

Kissing her was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was soft and needy, but greedy at the same time seeing as this had been something they both had clearly been suppressing for so long. His hands tangled in her hair, he pulled away just a bit, “I don’t think we should do this.”

She tilted her head, “Why?”

“Because of him. I mean, you’re in a fragile state. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, Oscar. You’re not. I got over what he did to me and the feelings I had for him months ago when I realized everything I ever wanted was right in front of me.”

Her eyes bore into his, inferring that he was everything she had ever wanted, yet he still seemed hesitant.

Sighing, she linked her hands around his neck, “Do you love me? Because I love you.”

Her words took the air out of his lungs, nodding vigorously, “Of course, I love you.”

Nudging her nose against his once more, “Then kiss me, Osc.”

It was the way she said his name. So gently, with so much love, that pushed him to throw caution to the wind and get his girl. He kissed her fervently, giving her everything he had, as she reciprocated every feeling. It was euphoric, the way they accepted each other, and when they had sex that night, slow and passionate, it was the exact same.

Waking up next to her, Oscar knew that he could never go back.

Lando’s opinion would never matter because the girl curled up in his chest deserved the world and the fact that Lando never saw that, well, that was on him.

—

LANDO’S POV

I had done this. I had pushed them together. I asked Oscar to check up on her because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.

Oscar’s voice rings in my head like a fucking reminder of everything I missed.

“I love her, mate. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, but me and her are going to give it a try. Whether you like it or not.” His words spit out, the image of them together the only thing in my head as he tries to break the news.

Putting on my best smile and hoping the regret doesn’t seep through, I say, “Nah, it’s good, Oscar. Have fun with her.”

He’s immediately visibly taken aback.

“That’s all you have to say?” He questions, suddenly my answer feels too informal, as if he hadn’t just taken away the one thing I’ve needed my entire life.

I nod, “Yeah, what else should I say?”

He scoffs, standing up, his demeanor shifting to something I have never seen from him, “Lando, you’re a fucking dumbass. ‘Have fun with her’? That’s fucking slimy. You talk about her like you didn’t almost cheat on your girlfriend with her. You talk about her like you didn’t take advantage of the feelings you knew she had for you. How do you not care about her?”

Standing up, I yell, “What do you want me to say?! Of fucking course, I care about her, Oscar! But, do you want me to say that to you?! You just told me you’re going to date my ex whether I liked it or not! There’s nothing to say!”

He shook his head, “First of all, she’s your ex-best friend, dickhead. Don’t get that shit twisted. You never got to love her like I do. Second of all, there should be something to say. In fact, I reckon you haven’t even apologized to her yet. Where’s the fucking apology?! You toyed with her for years and dropped her like that shit was easy. You completely ghosted her after almost telling her you loved her!”

I exhaled, so fucking tired of being reminded of the ways in which I lost her, of how I treated her. I’ll never be able to articulate it well, the shit mess I created and why, but, at least, I can understand it. I know I loved her. I know I love her. I know that will never change. And I know that I had been so stupidly confused on how in love with her I was, I pushed her away to the brink of loss.

“I’ve taken your relationship announcement well. Now, please get out of my apartment. I’m not interested in hearing another person's disappointment in the way I treated her. I hear it enough from myself.”

Oscar shook his head, keys jingling in his hand as he typed a quick message on his phone and walked to the door, “It’ll never be enough. You can’t be blamed for what you put her through enough. It’s fucking absurd you sleep at night.”

With that, he shut the door.

“I don’t sleep at night,” I mumbled.

—

THIRD PERSON POV

Oscar’s hand yanked open the driver’s seat door. Crouching down and getting in the car, he leaned over the console and kissed his girlfriend.

His hand gently on her back, she smiled, “How’d it go with him?”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her the fight he and Lando got into, simply smiling and kissing her again, “It went as well as it could.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she let out a giggle, “So, not good?”

Detaching from her and starting the ignition, he smiled, “That doesn’t concern you, love.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, looking out the window as he drove away, “I think it does considering it revolves around me.”

He laughed, his hand on her thigh, “The world doesn’t revolve around you,” He said in a singsong voice, joking along with her.

Her head reared to look at his side profile, faux astonishment, “Yes, it does.”

He glanced at her, his charming smile making her blush, “Yes, it does.”

—

LANDO’S POV

I had to find an escape somehow. I needed a way out of here. I couldn’t be here any longer and watch his hands on her, them being glued to her hips, as she laughed at his jokes and kissed his cheeks. I hate how perfect they are together. I hate how much more he makes her laugh and how much she smiles around him. I loathe how much better of a driver he is, how much everyone loves him, how much she loves him, I hate him because there’s nothing to hate about him, yet he has her, the one thing I had but stupidly lost, so I just detest the sight of him. He has everything I don’t have and more, it plagues me at night. He can give her so much more than I ever could’ve, and yet, I still find myself trying to figure out ways to get her back.

She was mine first, that should count for something right?

Nonetheless, I can’t stand it in this garage anymore. Their happiness, especially after having just broken up with Luisinha, makes me sick.

Walking the paddock, I try to spot the infamous red. Maybe Carlos can talk me out of this deep hole I’ve dug myself, maybe he can bring me back, even though no one has. The only person who could have the capability to build me back up again is her, it’s Y/n.

She’ll always be my lifeline.

I’m close to his room when I hear my name flood through the cracked door of Charles’ room.

“I just don’t understand how Lando fucked up so bad,” He says, words coming out quickly as if they had been on his tongue for so long.

Suddenly, Max’s voice pops through and the Red Bull driver says the sentence that I never wanted to hear out loud, “Yeah, exactly. It was so clear she loved him and he just threw it away because of another girl? Luisinha was sweet, but she wasn’t Y/n, and I sure as hell preferred Y/n to her. Y/n was perfect for Lando and I’m sad they didn’t work out, but have you seen how happy she is with Oscar?”

Their hurtful words continue as Charles lets out an agreeing hum, “Oh yeah. She’s been through so much, specifically with everything between her and Lando, you can tell she really loves him. You can tell he’s really good for her. I think it’s the stability and gentleness he’s showing her that makes the difference. With Lando, it was all up and down like a rollercoaster, but, with Oscar, it’s so apparent he just loves her and shows her everyday, something Lando never did.”

I feel the tears welling in my eyes as I take their analyses in.

He can’t be better for her than me. Y/n and I have always been destined for each other, how can one guy swoop in and change all of that? I will always love Y/n harder, that has to count for something.

Right?

—

It’s the expensive dates. That has to be the reason she’s so enthralled with him.

The pictures I scroll through on his Instagram of their quiet date night make me want to dig my own grave. A photo of his hand in hers; a photo of her smiling at the camera so big it looks as if he had said something sweet to her and caught her genuine reaction, a beautiful candid of a beautiful girl; a photo of them kissing in front of a fountain, her hand on his shoulder as she leans up to meet his lips.

It’s all too much.

I hate how much they mesh together and how big he makes her smile. I hate the fact that he has bigger muscles than me and a nicer car.

I hate it all.

As if to add salt in the wound, Oscar’s smiling face walks through the door, his body plopping down on the couch across from me as he sits next to Andrea and the two start talking.

“How’s Y/n?” Andrea asks, completely unaware of how sensitive I am to her name.

Oscar nods, “She’s great! I dropped her off at work this morning after we had breakfast in her apartment.”

Andrea wiggles his eyebrows, sexual innuendos on the tip of his tongue and I want someone to come take out my brain, so it could stop picturing him pleasuring her like he knows her body better than I do.

“So, you sleep at her house now?” Andrea says, chuckling.

Oscar laughs along with him as my heart tears straight down the middle, “We jump around between each other’s places. Some nights I sleep at hers, some nights she’ll sleep at mine. Really, it just depends on where we go for dinner the night before. If the place is closer to my house, then we end up there and vice versa.”

Andrea nods and smiles, oblivious to my presence, “That sounds like a good time.”

Oscar side eyes him and they both fall into a fit of giggles, Andrea waving his hands in the air as he says, “Not what I meant!”

Oscar nods, “No, I get what you mean. My mind is just dirtier now after spending so much time with her. My girlfriend is not for the pure. Every two seconds, she has some random sex joke ready.”

The words “my girlfriend” out of his mouth is what sends me over the edge.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” I say, standing up and causing a scene.

Oscar’s face hardens as he meets my position, “What’s with you?”

I shake my head, “You’re rubbing it in my face and you know it.”

He shrugs, “So, what if I am? A little guilt does you good after the shit you pulled.”

Finally, after the emotional build up, I yell, “I GET IT! I SCREWED THE FUCK UP! I UNDERSTAND I RUINED HER LIFE AND I RUINED MINE! YOU DON’T NEED TO SIT HERE AND MAKE IT KNOWN EVERY FIVE SECONDS! I CAN’T FUCKING STAND IT ANYMORE!”

Oscar fires back, “YOU DIDN’T RUIN HER FUCKING LIFE BECAUSE YOU NEVER HAD THAT HOLD ON HER. YOU FUCKING HURT HER. THAT’S IT. ALL ANYBODY EVER WANTED FROM YOU WAS AN APOLOGY AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING GET IT OUT. SO, YEAH, I’LL RUB IT IN YOUR FACE. MAYBE THAT WILL GET YOU TO REALIZE WHAT YOU LOST.”

Pushing him, “I DO KNOW WHAT I’VE LOST.”

He pushes me back, my feet stumbling when he yells, “REALLY? BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL DOESN’T SEEM THAT WA-”

“ENOUGH.” My dad’s voice cuts through, his hands coming to rest on both of our chests.

His gaze is fiery as he levels us, “This has gone on for two long. You two are supposed to be a team. It’s not good for anyone when you fight this way. So, do everybody a favor and grow the fuck up. Act like the professional adults you are.”

The two of us seem to be scared enough to comply and, as my father walks out of the room, he stops in the threshold to turn around and stare at me.

“And, Lando?”

“Yes, dad?”

“Fucking apologize.”

—

THIRD PERSON POV

The knocking at Y/n’s door has her smiling. Feet pattering quickly against the floor, she flings it open.

“Osc! What are you doing he-” Her voice cuts off when her eyes land on Lando.

Her gaze turns icy and she closes the door slightly, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, just hear me out.”

The urgency in his voice has her sighing and opening the door, letting him in yet not letting him back into her heart.

He sets down the flowers he got her on the counter, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves swallow him whole.

“Just say it, Lando.” Her arms cross over her chest as his eyebrows furrow and he truly meets her gaze for the first time since he’s been there.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head.

“I know you love me and I know you came here to tell me that, to see if you still had a chance.” She says slowly, flashbacks of that night out on that Monaco street falling back into their brains. However, now, the tables have turned.

He nods, “Of course, I love you. I always have, Y/n. So, do I still have a chance?”

A silence falls over them as she stares at him, her eyes seemingly challenging him for whatever reason, before she exhales a breath and says, “Instead of stringing you along like you did to me so cruelly all those years, I’ll be 100% transparent with you. I do not love you anymore. I finally have found someone who cherishes every moment with me, who loves me no matter what. I don’t feel scared everyday that Oscar’s going to wake up one day and decide he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and I know I’ll never have to be scared of that. That’s what love is, Lando. That’s what I wanted with you a year and a half ago, but you screwed that up. None of that was ever on me. You knew I loved you and instead of talking to me about it, you harbored that information, got a girlfriend, shoved it in my face, and then tried to tell me you loved me when I was at my most vulnerable. How fucking fucked up? It doesn’t matter if you’ve always loved me or if you continue to. I’ve found someone who gives me everything I’ve ever wanted and more without ever having to ask. I won’t take that for granted like you did. I never had any of that with you and I never will, which is okay because, frankly, I don’t want it with you anymore. So, I’m going to do what you should’ve done that night when I was drunk. I’m going to tell you that I don’t love you and that it’s time to move on because we both know our friendship never would’ve worked as anything more than that. You always wanted me to be your friend, there when you needed me, however you needed me. I was never going to be that for you long term and it’s crazy you ever thought I would’ve. But, that’s not the point anymore. The point is I don’t feel the same way about you and, instead of trying to cheat on the man I love the most, the man who never deserves that, I’m going to tell you to get out of my apartment because we were always destined to be over.”

Lando stands, speechless, on the other side of her kitchen table, taking in the words that completely destroyed his being.

He seems to drown in his tears as his mouth opens and closes, searching for something to say.

“How can Oscar be better than me?” He questions, the inquiry falling from his lips before he has time to realize he doesn’t want to know the answer.

Her answer is quick, “He loves me openly.”

Nodding, Lando leaves the flowers he knows are her favorite on the surface, opting to make his way toward the door as quickly as possible seeing as he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

When they reach the door, she opens it and gives him a soft smile, “I’m sorry for what you’re about to go through. It’s absolute shit, but you’ll get through it. I did. And, maybe, you’ll be as lucky as me to find your soulmate in the healing process.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.” He states, genuinely.

She smiles back at him, “Thank you.”

His tears freely fall down his face as he memorizes her face. It’s so at peace, he finally sees why Oscar is perfect for her. In the time he was with her, Lando never saw her this calm, this happy. Oscar brings out a side of her, a healthy side of her, that he never could have, something he would just have to come to terms with.

His walk back to the elevator after she gently sent him away is heavy. His chest feels constricted and his hands feel sweaty as the steel box takes him down floors. When he reaches the first one and steps out, his eyes catch the infamous papaya colors to his side. What he finds is Oscar standing, waiting for an elevator a few ways down with flowers in his hands. Her favorite ones, the ones Lando had just brought to her. His leg bounces as he eagerly waits for it to open and, when it does, he bolts into it.

No matter how hard Lando finds it to breathe, the knowledge that that is the man he leaves Y/n to is comforting.

Truly comforting.

End.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on Lacy. It truly means everything to me when it comes to the support you guys show my writing. I want to become an author, so the love helps build my confidence with the idea of showing the other, non-fanfiction works I have to publishing companies. Truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, thank you.

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[loveliest-venus]

bittersweet - straw hats crew x reader

includes: Straw Hats crew x f!reader warnings: major character death summary: In your last moments, your crewmates reflect on their time with you before saying goodbye. content: angst, slight fluff, can be read as romantic or platonic, no spoilers, 1.5k words.

Dying was never part of the plan.

Then again, none of this was ever part of the plan, from getting experimented on to meeting a rowdy pirate crew that called themselves the Straw Hats to end up joining them, thus starting what would be the biggest adventure of your whole life. Of course, you regretted it from time to time, it was a wonder how this wasn’t one of those times.

Well, maybe a little bit. You didn’t like seeing tears further dirtying Luffy’s face. It didn’t suit him, you weren’t used to seeing him with anything but a huge smile on his face, the smile that gave you hope despite everything. Your ears were still ringing but you thought you could vaguely hear Nami’s cries, or were they Chopper’s? It was hard to say, the poison had spread fast and you were certain that the blurriness in your vision wasn’t because of tears, as your eyes were dry and bloodshot, most likely from the toxins pumping through your veins, making each breath just a little more painful and… Was it just you or was Zoro screaming? You honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Your eyes closed as your body fell forward, stopping as Luffy’s arms wrapped around your torso to hold you up, making your chin rest on his shoulder.

“Hang on!” Your captain called your name hoarsely, snapping his head to the side, desperate yells piercing through the air as Chopper clumsily dashed over to where you were, slumped over Luffy’s shaking form. “Chopper!”

“D-Don’t worry, I will save her!” Chopper’s fur was wet, snot and salty water mixing as he cried, his voice cracking at the vowels of your name while his arms reached out to help stabilize you. It hurt your heart to see them so distraught and you hated that there was nothing you could do to comfort them.

“Chopper… Stop.” Both of them froze, Luffy’s body growing stiff against your clammy skin. “It’s okay… I’m not scared,” the words tasted bitter in your mouth, in contrast to the serene look on your worn-out features. Blood was trickling down your forehead, hanging on your eyelashes and joining the tiny trail spilling from the corners of your lips. “I’m happy to die… for my crew.” You meant it, your heart had never felt lighter.

“Oi! What the fuck are you going on about?! You can’t just–!” Zoro’s voice was unmistakable, rough like the numerous knives on your body. From the looks of it, your peaceful declaration hadn’t settled well with him. You wished you could meet his gaze one last time, blissfully unaware of the milky sheen on yours. It was then that Chopper realized, with a heartbroken sob, that it was truly too late. “Chopper, do something! Hurry up!”

“Moss-head…” Zoro’s earrings jingled when he turned to look at Sanji, ready to cuss him out until he saw the look on his face, somber and pleading. It dawned on him that the cook had already begrudgingly accepted that this was it. But the swordsman wasn’t known for admitting defeat that easily, if ever.

“Save it, you damn– ,” he was cut off when a pale, delicate hand landed on his broad shoulder, Robin’s lips set in a thin line, the only thing betraying her true feelings was the tight grip she had on him.

“Zoro.” Her eyes were fixated on your battered form, her brow furrowing at your labored breathing. “This isn’t the time. She’s too far gone.” It was Franky’s turn to lose composure, aggressively kicking away the remnants of what had once been a beautiful tree. Taking away the destroyed flora, the unconscious enemies around you and your own blood splattering the ground, this could’ve been called a scenic place to die.

“B-B-But Chopper can fix her up! He always can! R-Right, Chopper?! Tell Robin that she’s wrong!” Usopp’s arms were tightly wound around Nami, both of their eyes growing misty, holding each other up in a fruitless attempt to hold it together. At the archeologist’s soft murmur of your name, their hopes were shattered, Nami’s knees buckling under the weight of her grief, almost taking Usopp with her, forcing him to stand up straighter than before, for once staring at death right in the eye. If only it wasn’t your bloodied face staring back…

Brook remained silent, for once devoid of all joy. It was happening again, someone he held dear was being taken away from him all too soon, your life cut short at the capricious hands of fate. Jinbei had a similar expression on his face, choosing to honor your wishes as you clearly didn’t want to leave them without a proper goodbye.

“Why…?” Luffy, who hadn’t stopped crying, tried shaking you as if that would rip you out of your dazed state, your hair tickling his cheek as you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head up to look at him properly. “Why did you do it?!” He kept yelling your name, now crushing you against his scarred chest, refusing to let you go. “You can’t leave us!” A choked sob rocked his body, a shiver running down your spine at the sheer pain lacing his youthful voice.

Chopper was clinging to your leg, burying his face in your calf to hide his swollen eyes. “I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry! Please…” The mink was talking to himself at this point, stuck between begging whatever deity was listening and apologizing to you for not getting to you in time, for not being smart enough to find a cure. Zoro’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, loathing the helplessness wrapping around their group viciously, refusing to look away from you, still being held up by the devil fruit user’s embrace. His heart was fighting tooth and nail to keep itself from breaking, minuscule cracks growing the heavier your eyes got. Unbeknownst to him, there was already a scar in the shape of you.

Sanji gritted his teeth, taking a few steps in your direction, blinking away the moisture building up in his lash line, he didn’t want to miss any detail in your face, knowing it was the last time he’d ever get to admire it. In his eyes, you were as beautiful as ever, not even death could take your beauty away from you. Nothing would convince him otherwise.

Their allies could only watch, growing restless as the silence continued, were you gone already? None of them were close enough to see your face clearly, your crewmates had formed a circle around you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. Each of them had different opinions on your rambunctious group, however, none of them could deny that you were fiercely loyal to each other and seeing such a tight-knit crew lose a member was disheartening, a few of them inching closer to their own. It was an unspoken agreement, to pay their respects to the person who had given it her all to win this battle, saving them from a similar fate.

“Because… you called me your friend.”

Your soft voice cut through their thoughts seamlessly, a few gasps escaping from Nami, Usopp and Chopper. Zoro’s eye widened, almost losing his grip when the meaning behind that phrase registered in his brain; whereas Sanji chose to let his feelings take over, slowly sinking to his knees. Brook hung his head, and if he had eyes, he would’ve closed them, not wanting to witness the inevitable. Franky, on the other hand, kept his steely gaze on you, his fists growing tighter with each droplet of your blood that had touched the ground, none of this made any sense to the cyborg whose robotic body shook with the strength of his pained weeping. Your sweet words were like a knife to Jinbei’s kind heart, all of his memories with you as part of the crew playing like a cinematic sequence in his mind, you were one of the first to approach him when he had finally accepted Luffy’s invite. Robin could only smile, finally allowing her tears to drip down her face, wishing she could hold you for one last time. Life without you was unfathomable to them at this point, could this truly be reality? Wasn’t there any way to rewind time to save you?

None of them could see Luffy’s face, his reaction to you admitting that you were willingly exchanging your life for theirs in the name of your friendship. But it wasn’t hard to guess, seeing as he’d pressed his face into your neck, inhaling your scent to soothe his racing heart, torn to pieces by you and his inability to help you. He knew from the moment that he saw you that you would become an important part of his crew, however, he never imagined that it would end like this. He wasn’t ready to continue his journey without you. How could he become the King of the Pirates if you weren’t by his side?

“You truly are the best crew I could’ve asked for. I’m thankful for you… From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Your eyes were fully closed, the corners of your lips curling up ever so slightly in a loving smile. It was a breathtaking image that would be branded into their hearts forever, sealed with your very last words to them.

“I love you.”

© 2020-2023 loveliest-venus — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Please do NOT repost, translate, modify, use for AI or claim my content as yours.

#one piece x reader #one piece angst #op x reader #one piece imagine #op imagines #venus.works #venus.sfw #venus.angst

[starrybl1ss]

boyfriend

"i could be a better boyfriend than him"

boyfriend - dove cameron

💌:: hi hi hiii! im rn suuuuper busy but i just had this idea i need to write it asapp!!! Its another drabble thoughhhh:( i js cant be stuck w writing one long fic!! Was gonna put fluff in here but i scrapped the idea<3

dom!college!ellie williams x f!reader

warnings bbg: mdni!!! fingering, smut generally, toxic releationship, pet names???

summary: reader having an asshole of a boyfriend and ellie being reader's bestfriend thinks she could be a better boyfriend.

---☆

You came rushing to ellie's apartment elevator with tears mixed with mascara drailing down your face. Geez, you had a rough day. You quickly pressed number 5, that's the floor ellie is on.

Luckly no one was in the elevator with you so nobody had to see you being a mess. You grabbed your phone while still being in the elevator and quickly texted ellie.

You

Els, im a minute away from your room.

You got out of the elevator and found ellie's apartment door. Your just hoping she's isn't outside, i mean she has no classes at this time as she told you this morning.

You knocked on the door nervously, scared if she wasn't home. Then the door opened-- phew! She is home.

Ellie stops and looks at you top to bottom. "Hey what's wrong?" She asked in a soft voice. "I-" ellie stops you. "Wait, come inside first" she insisted.

You came in her apartment room dropping your bag on the floor and broke into tears. "is it your boyfriend again? What did he do to you this time?" She hugged you while patting your head gently.

"I- i j- just asked him to-" you sobbed again. "To- to go to come over a- and he said h-he couldn't" you sniffed. "W-when i asked-- why? He said he had a lot of assigments unfinished and he's busy-" ellie whiped a tear running down your cheeks.

"B-b-but when i went back to campus- to get the books i left, i- i saw him with aliyah- a- and t-they k- kissed.." ellie looked at you with pure sympathy. "Sit down" she told you.

You sat on her bed next to her. "B-but aliyah is dating that popular guy..." you sobbed. "She dates the whole campus y/n, just dump him! Your better on your own"

"But- if i dumped him, i- id hurt him..." you told her. Ellie looks at you in disbelief "your kidding right?" Said in a slightly mocking tone. "So your feel sorry for him?" She scoffs "funny. After making you cry for hours every single day? Never had time for you and instead he's hooking up with other hoes like that bitch aliyah?"

You avoided eye contact with ellie, she sounded angry. "So i'm just gonna let him hurt my g- bestfriend like that?" You shake your head slowly. "You still going to be with him? Come on, your not a loser" she mocked you.

"Your not going back with him. Im not letting him hurt you again. Enough is enough" you looked at her with soggy eyes still.

Ellie got closer to your face and whispered to your ears. "I could be a better boyfriend than him"

Suddenly she pushes you to the wall. "You are not going back to him" she stared at you coldly. She lifts up your chin. "Els...-" she kissed you a bit harsh while gripping on your shorts. You looked at her. Don't know how to react.

"Don't be an idiot, your better alone, or..." she towers over you on her bed practically pinning you to the wall. "...With me"

She pulls the top of your tanktop with her right hand and pulled down one of the strap with her left hand. "Ellie...." you whined. "Who do you belong to now?" She asked you demandingly. "Y-you"

You were so fucked up in the head, all fuzzy almost couldn't think straight. You feel drunk, this time it's not because you were at dina's and partying all night, this time its different.

It was a suprise, throughout the past 2 years, ellie does act a little 'different' with you, considering you've known her for half your life.

"You have no idea how long i've wanted to do this..." ellie whispered. You pulled ellie's shirt "can i just be yours....?" You muttered.

Ellie smirked and scoffs a bit mockingly "your mine" she said in a tone you've never heard before. She pulled down both of the straps of your tanktop and pulled it down.

She kissed your neck, biting it.... leaving marks. God, how are you going to cover this up? You started groaning.

"You smell nice, did your boyfriend bought you this parfume?" She stopped and looks at you. "N-no... i bought it mysel- shit..." she slid down the pretty shorts you wore.

"Better huh? Its getting hot in here" she smiled at took off her shirt and damn... she works out a lot doesn't she?

Ellie pushed her knuckle on your clothes cunt. "S'wet babe, who did this to you?" She asked. "Don'know" you mumbled. She pulled down your underwear and you gasped slightly. She suddenly inserts one digit in you. "Do you know now?" She asked again. "S'you- its you els"

She curled her finger in you. "-eghh.... el-ellie....." god your totally fuck up, its only one finger- and again, she puts another digit in you as you clenched around her fingers.

"Your so pretty..." ellie spat out those words making you blush like crazy. Its not like she never compliments you, she always compliment you every time you two meet and you put so much effort to your clothes i mean this time you were barely wearing anything.

You keep on moaning and groaning, shes is doing something to you. Then she pulled out both her digits and starts edging you. "Ff-fuck fuck fuuckk.." you yelled out.

"Y'gonna cum for me sweetie?" She asked. "S--soon, p-probablly i-" you came on her hand with a moan as you reached your climax. "Good girl" she praised you.

#ellie williams #lesbian #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #Spotify

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (Series) Part 18 Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: 18+ THIS CHAPTER'S TRIGGER WARNINGS: Emotional Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Drug Addiction, Mentions of Death A/N: I rewrote this fucking chapter about 8 times. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It was a real hard one to write, ya'll. A lot of my own shit is mixed up in there with the story. MC is part me after all (and part all of you). So it was hard. Harder than I think I expected it to be. So I dunno how it ended up. Couldn't re-read it too much. I really need your reviews on this one folks. It's real important to me, 'specially now. I need to know how you feel, the good and the bad. I gotta get this right.

Story Masterlist HERE

You're overcome. 

There's no other word for it. You've been sobbing in your shower for the last hour. After running from the barn, taking a taxi home and bursting into your suite you immediately fell to your knees, the warm water pelting down onto your back. 

It's as close to being held, at being soothed that you can manage right now. 

You can’t stop replaying tonight’s events. The song Joel chose. The one of longing and deep yearning. 

"She may be the reason I survive

The why and wherefore I'm alive

The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years"

But also of a love gone by. A regret.

"She may be the face I can't forget

A trace of pleasure or regret"

Is that how he views you? A love gone by?

Of course he does.

Paul's engagement ring is in the velvet box it came in. It's being returned tomorrow. You'd have done it tonight if it weren't so late. 

You need to end things. It's the only way forward. No matter what, no matter if Joel is in love with Tess, no matter if you'll never be with him, you *can't be with Paul. 

You don't love Paul. It's obvious to everyone including yourself. It's been obvious for so long. You've wasted so much fucking time and energy on him. 

You think of all the boxes packed here, the ones you were going to move to Leander. You think of how strange and sad it is that your whole life can be put into less than twenty cardboard boxes. 

And even though Joel can't be yours and even though that hurts more than words can begin to say, you are so fucking grateful for him. You are so grateful you met Joel Miller because he's shown you what love is. True, caring love. 

Even if it's not yours to keep. 

You will never forget the way he looked singing tonight. The goodbye song from his heart to yours. You'd felt it. The bittersweet finality of your time. 

More tears are coming. 

"I love him," you say to the tile in front of you. You need to hear the words spoken out loud in the universe, even if it's hidden in the fall of the shower and heard only by you. "I love Joel."

You need to see Joel. You need him to hold you. Need his calming presence. You need to wrap your arms around him and press your face into his neck and just feel breathe that sweet, spicy scent of home.

He's not yours.

You don't get to see Joel. You don't get to have him. He's Tess'. You can't be his friend, you want him too much. So what does that leave? 

That leaves you replaced and alone. 

You pull yourself from the shower, shivering as you towel off, drying your hair the best you can. You go to your dresser and pull out one of the few remaining pieces of clothing there. 

Joel's shirt. 

You've washed it so it doesn't smell like him anymore. Doesn't smell like the laundry detergent he uses or that wood shavings scent he sometimes carries. But when you put it on it feels like he's there in some small way. You pull it on over your sleep shorts hiccupping a soft cry. 

You remember so long ago, standing in Joel’s den as you pondered if he just played guitar or if he sang as well.

“S’weird how something can make you feel so good and then outta nowhere become the pain”

That’s how it feels now. Joel, the thing that makes you feel good has also become the pain. The wedding is tomorrow. You need to collect yourself by then. You'll see Joel and you need to be controlled. You need to be okay. You need to not ruin this for him. 

Because you do love Joel. You love him in a way you never expected to love or be loved. You love him so much that you are determined to make his life better. Determined that you will not take away what he has carved out for himself. 

You crawl under the covers, your face buried in the pillow. 

"I l-love Joel," you whisper it again into the pillow only now it's broken by sobs. You curl up under the covers, your body trembling. "I love him I love him." 

You feel lost. So hopelessly lost. 

And then the phone rings. 

///

It's late in the Miller house. Quiet. Sarah's been asleep for hours thanks to the sugar crash Bill's cupcakes provided. 

Tommy's asleep in the basement apartment, exhausted from the evenings festivities and anticipating a long day tomorrow. 

Or, as Joel glances over at the bright neon numbers of his digital clock, later today. 

He's laying in bed, one arm behind his head, one hand over his sternum as he stares at the ceiling. In this pose he feels every breath in, every breath out. The studying rhythm bringing him peace. It's impossible to shake the image of you free from his mind. 

He'd done it out of love for you. Out of a need for you to know how much you'd changed him. Changed his heart, his outlook, even his fucking idea on the concept of romantic love. 

But the look on your face? The way it had fallen before you had dashed out? 

Sarah had been bouncing up and down in her seat when he finished his performance, hugging him tightly and throwing things at him as he tried to contain his disappointment ("Daddy you sing so pretty!" And "Daddy will you teach me guitar?")  Everyone was clapping him on the back, telling him it was wonderful, so romantic, that Tommy and Maria loved it.

He refused to let his eyes search for you, knowing you were gone. He refused to let his heart believe that you'd come back. 

Joel knows he has to stay away from you.

Knows that singing tonight was a terrible idea because not only did he make it so obvious to everyone that he’s so deeply in love with you, but he also made you cry.

Watching your face crumple, watching the way your eyes fell to the ground at the last string. He’d thought you’d be happy singing, Maria had said how often you’d felt happy when you did. But that wasn’t happiness he saw tonight. It was pain.

Joel doesn’t know what to do. He feels so lost.

And then the phone rings.

///

"Joel, I need you."

Four little words over the phone at 2 am.  

Four little words that have Joel stumbling out of bed, murmuring he'll be there before he's pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt.

He's half asleep, his mind whirring. He goes to the basement, rapping on the door. An equally tired Tommy answers, blinking in the light. 

"She- I gotta go," Joel tries to explain in a rush. "I'll explain later. Can you come watch Sarah?"

Tommy gives a few bleary eyed blinks before nodding and following his brother up the steps. 

Tommy settles himself on the sofa as Joel runs out the door. And all the younger Miller can think before he falls asleep is:

Finally.

///

Joel's shoulders nearly take up the doorframe. You notice this when the rap of his knuckles pulls you sniffling from the sofa and you open the door to him. 

His eyes are sleepy, but wide. His hair is tousled from sleep and you can see the indent of his pillow faint in his left cheek. He scans your face, concerned.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry," you say as soon as Joel takes a step towards you. "I never should have called so late. I’m so so sorry, Joel." 

"Just let me in," Joel insists, his hand coming to go to your cheek and then dropping. He doesn’t want to overstep. "Tell me what happened."

You try to make the words come out; you force them crackling and trembling out into the world. 

"I don't want... I don't want to go back." 

Joel doesn't have any context, but that doesn't stop him from rushing in. He closes the door behind him gently before bringing you into his arms. Your forehead drops against his sternum as he does this, your tears warm and free flowing.

As he rubs a soothing hand along your spine he realizes you're wearing his t-shirt again. For some reason this small thing makes Joel's eyes wet. 

You're so warm in his arms, trembling against him as you hold in sobs. He wants to kiss away the tears rolling down your cheeks. He wants to carry you to bed and strip every bad memory and experience from you with his mouth and body.  

That's not what she needs right now. She needs a friend.

He takes your hand in his, leading you to the sofa. A place where you can talk. The fireplace is on, bathing you in a warm flickering glow that makes his breathing hitch when he glances over at you.  

Your eyes are puffy, your nose red and he thinks you might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

He can't help himself but reach for you, bringing you to his lap as he sits. There's nothing sexual about it, just the need to hold you close, to make you feel safe there. Your arms wrap around his neck and he rocks you, his arms banding around your waist. 

"Honey," Joel whispers into the crook of your neck. "What's wrong?" 

Honey.

You melt into him just as easily as the word. This was a terrible idea. What had you been thinking? How could you ask Joel here? 

Because of the song, your traitorous heart cries. Because you love him! Because his face is the first one you want to see!

You hold him tightly to you, unable to break from him just yet. Unable to tell him the awful ugliness. Instead your mind drifts to the rehearsal dinner. Your hand plays with the fabric of Joel's shirt, twisting it under your fingers. 

"Joel . . . The song."

Immediately he tenses and you can't see his face, but you can imagine it. Eyes nervous, mouth hooked slightly to the side. The same way he’d held his face that night in his den, your hand around a glass of soda.

"Maybe one day we'll have reason to make music again.”

Joel smiles softly around his glass. "Maybe."

"Did you like it?" he murmurs into your hair. You can't help but hold him tighter, your eyes filling. He sounds so unsure of himself, so worried about what you’ll say.

"Yeah, I loved it. It was beautiful."

You feel him physically relax in your arms at this admission. The tension, the uncertainty is drained from him. You force yourself not to tilt your face to his, not to search for his mouth with yours. 

"I thought you didn't play anymore,” you tell his shoulder.  

"I don't. One time performance I guess. Shoulda charged for tickets." 

There, the humor you both needed to break the intense spell that weaves itself when you're in Joel's arms. You're thankful to him for that. Now you can pull back, still seated in his lap, but in control of yourself. 

"I hope you keep playing forever."

Joel smiles wistfully at you, nodding.  You let his dark eyes search your face. You let his hand cup your cheek, his wide thumb brushing away the tears there.

"I never told you about why I went back to Chicago," you sniffle. "Why I didn't call."

"You don't have to tell me," Joel insists. "It doesn't change why I'm here. I'll stay here all night just holdin' you if it's what you need." 

He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want you upset because of him. This time in Chicago, the separation, it feels like an ugly part of your shared history that he just wants you both to forget. 

"No, I want to tell you," you say in a sorrowful voice. "You deserve to know everything."

Joel nods and he wants to keep you there in his lap. But you shuffle back from him, sitting across from him on the sofa. It takes several minutes of staring into the flames of the fire before you feel you can begin. 

"My dad has been in and outta the hospital a lot," you explain, looking at your hands in your lap. "It's because he's waiting for a liver transplant."

Joel is shocked. The way you spoke of Chicago, of your family, he'd assumed your father was dead. 

"The thing is," you continue, unaware of his shock. "He can't get one unless he stops using and, uh, he won't." 

"Using?" Joel is still taken aback by the revelation, not thinking clearly. 

"Coke and heroin mostly," you say with a wince. "He's a drug addict."

Your father has been a junkie for most of your life.

And it's in part because you exist. 

The same year you were born he'd gone to a party without your mom. She was tired, still breastfeeding you and encouraged him to go out and have some fun. 

He did. 

The kind of fun that had started as a party drug passed around and ended with him burning through the family savings and growing gaunt in the coming years. The kind of fun that had him doing eight balls during your soccer games and shooting up on your graduation day. 

You were four when he first went into rehab at the insistence of your mother. A few weeks before your fifth birthday he'd come home sober and ready to change his life back around. You hadn't really understood what was happening. You'd just been so happy to be a family again.

That photo on your desk, the one the flood destroyed, the one that meant so much to you is from the only birthday party of yours that your father ever attended sober. 

In the passing years he turned to drugs again but he hid it well from you and your mother. You never knew the severity of it until you turned fifteen.  

Until you came home one day from your part time job at the Chicago humane shelter to find him covered in piss and his own vomit and barely responsive. 

He died on his way to the hospital, a full forty two seconds he was clinically dead. Until they revived him and he sputtered back to life. You remember all of this because it was you in the ambulance with him. 

Your mother was at work, unreachable. Your dad's sporadic unemployment meant she worked two jobs. 

So it was a fifteen year old you with tears running down her cheeks that watched this unfold, completely terrified. 

You were sixteen when he got out of rehab for the second time and promised his life was changed forever. He and your mother had almost two years of no fighting - a change of pace for you who had grown up to their constant shouting matches. 

You were eighteen when he relapsed at a friend's house party. Twenty two and twenty five when he went back to the various rehabs that your mother always paid for in more ways than one.  

And then he just stopped trying in the coming years. Still using, but not enough for your sweet mother to kick him out. 

It's like he's infected by some insidious being inside him. A forever hungry thing that takes and takes, warping your once sweet father into something subhuman. A being that is frighteningly underweight, hollowing his cheeks and making his eyes bulbous in his face. He isn't your father anymore, not really. 

But he is. That's the worst part.

Because if he wasn't your Dad you could hate him.

You tell Joel all of this, it spills from you like a stream and he sits across from you, nodding and never speaking. When your voice hitches or the tears begin fresh he instinctively moves towards you on the sofa, stopped only by your raised palm. You need to get all of this out and if he holds you, you never will. 

"That night you left, like, two hours later my mom called me to tell me that my dad had a really bad seizure," You shake your head, wanting to stop the memory. "And she sounded so scared on the phone and I just had to get back. I had to get there, back home to help. I was on autopilot."

Joel recalls the hollow look in your eyes when he went to see you that day.

"I know you came to see me but I don't even remember it," you tell Joel. "All I could think of was that I fucked up, that I should have been there in Chicago with my mom." 

Joel is stiff, watching you without speaking. 

"And I got home and it was just as awful as I thought it would be." You start to shudder at the memory. "My dad could barely talk. And when he did all he wanted to do was blame me for leaving. Telling me I was selfish for leaving my mom and him. Telling me that without me around to help pay for things that there was more pressure on him and my mom to afford their place."

You break off only to hold in a sob, breathing deeply and continuing. 

"And he was right, you know. Coming to Austin for school was so selfish of me. I could've just as easily gone to school back in Chicago." A look of disgust crosses your features as you talk now to yourself. "So fucking selfish."

"No," Joel's voice is quiet but firm. "That's not true."

You're ignoring him though, so caught up in your own devastation. Your eyes are shut tightly and your head is giving short jerks. 

"I just run from everything, Joel. I ran from Chicago and I ran to Austin because I thought that if I kept running far away enough that, that his ugliness could never touch me. But it lives in me, Joel. That ugliness is in me forever." 

Joel's eyes have grown glassy, even now he remains sitting there looking at you with unending patience and his hands twitching to hold you. 

"I stayed there for a month,” you continue, not even aware that your head is tilted so low Joel has to lean forward to hear. “A month of my dad telling me I was selfish. A month of my mom trying to tell me that it's just his disease talking. A month of seeing your name come up on my phone and wanting so badly to talk to you but just thinking about how horrible I was and how you and Sarah deserved better."

You force yourself to breathe between sentences, your air hitching in your chest.  Joel is staring at you, his eyes swimming over your features. Horrible? You?

"So when I eventually got back to Austin I was just so fucking sad, Joel. So tired. I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't want to be around anyone. Not you, not Sarah. I couldn't do that to you guys." You swipe at your eyes with the wrist of your sweater. "I should have called you and seen you but I was so selfish only thinking about me and how I felt.

Your eyes jerk open when you feel the warmth of Joel's hand on yours. He's leaning across the sofa, his wide hand placed gently over yours. A thumb gently strokes your knuckles. 

"No," Joel breathes in a voice of gentle warmth. "Never selfish. Never. It was me that fucked up."

"No."

"Yes," Joel tells you and you can see the way his dark eyes are damp. "You are the least selfish person I've ever met."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, your chin wobbling. "You know why I called you tonight? Because my mom just called to beg me to come home again. Apparently my dad's saying that if I move back to Chicago that he'll go to treatment again. That he'll stop using. That he'll be able to get the transplant."

Joel's eyes widen but he remains silent. 

"And I don't want to go," you say, lips trembling. "I don't want to go back there. I don't want to fucking go even if it would mean helping because I'm a horrible, selfish cunt."

The sobs that burst out of you are pure anguish that you muffle in a pillow to keep Maria from hearing all those floors above. Joel is physically holding himself back, dying to embrace you but giving you your space.

 All he can do is stroke your head, desperate to convey all of his care and affection for you through the gesture. 

"He was always promising he was going to get clean," you say hollowly, moving away from the pillow and Joel's touch. "And my mom, she just, she just kept carrying on like there was hope. But there is no hope. Just this endless, bleak, fucking pain."

Your eyes meet his and you're overcome. You stand abruptly, feeling the scrutiny of Joel as sharply as if he were stabbing you.

"Joel, just go. I'm sorry I called. This was a terrible idea to have you come here. This isn't your problem. I'm so fucking sorry."

Joel stands and for a moment you think he's going to leave. You think that might be a relief because you're feeling too vulnerable, too exposed. 

You aren't expecting Joel to quietly close the distance between your bodies and wordlessly pull you into his arms. You're shocked more however at how willingly you allow this, how easy it is to fall back into his embrace. To tangle your arms around his neck and hold him as tightly as you can. He's warm against you, his cheek resting on the top of your head as you press your face to his shoulder.

"I hate him. I hate what he put my mom and me through." Your chin is trembling as you blink back the onslaught of more tears. "And I hate that I love him so much because he's my fucking dad."

Your hands are gripping Joel around the middle as he holds you, his broad shoulders curling, his arms tightening.

"I hate that I just want him to die," you cry through clenched teeth. "To stop holding on. To bring my mother some fucking peace."

More tears come. 

Joel thinks of James and the cocaine and how upset you'd been. He'd thought you were justified in the way you'd acted, the heated punch across James slimy face for treating you so rudely. But now he realizes why you'd been shamed, so terrified of your own fury.

"And I hate that I'm just like him."

You break off as Joel's large hand is cupping the back of your head, and he's gently swaying you, the way a mother would a newborn. 

"It's okay," Joel murmurs in your hair. "I've got you. I've got you."

You don't know why, but this quiet utterance from him is that breaks you, and the wall against him that you've built so high for yourself collapses. Heavy sobs break free from you, stark mournful things that you muffle in Joel's shoulder. They make your body jerk, causing Joel to hold you tighter against him.

"Shhh," Joel soothes. "Just breathe, baby. Slowly, like me."

He takes a few steadying breaths, urging you to match the slow pace. After a few shuddering exhales you do so, your breathing staggering into a steady, even rhythm. 

"Good," Joel whispers. "Good."

"I'm just like him," you again whisper the words you've only ever thought into Joel's collar. "I'm selfish and horrible and -"

"You're nothing like that," Joel assures you, pulling you back so that he can look into your eyes when he tells you this. "Not at all."

"Really? What do you call what we did in your kitchen?" You scoff. "Knowing that we were with other people? Or how about when you pushed me up against that wall over there?"

Joel is silent, only his eyes move around your face while the rest of him is like a statue. He doesn't need to look at the wall to know what you're talking about. 

"I can't stop wanting you," you say with a look of torment in your eyes. "I can't fucking stop, Joel. I try and I try and I can't. I'm just like my dad. I want what I shouldn't. I want what's only going to hurt other people and hurt myself."

"Honey-"

"I can't stop," you repeat weakly, trying to step back from him. "So I have to stay away." 

Joel hands are on either side of your face again and he's peppering your face with soft kisses and everything in you wants to rejoice because Joel is here and he's holding you. 

"Don't stay away from me," Joel's tells you as he rains compassion down on you. "Never."

You can't keep him. He's not yours.

Both of you are being incredibly selfish right now. Tess is probably at home right now taking care of Sarah and Daniel. Tess who was made to be a mother. Tess who understands Joel. What is wrong with you? 

Selfish.

Horrible. 

"Stop, Joel," you say twisting from him, out of his grip. "I told you all of this so that you can understand why I won't be around as much. But I'll call Sarah every other night, if she still wants to speak to me. And when I come back for visits I'll take her to the movies and-"

It's like Joel is only just now noticing all the moving boxes. He's glancing around as you talk, his eyes widening.

"You're not actually thinking of moving back to Chicago," Joel interrupts in a horrified voice. "You can't be."

"Just for a few months, just until he's settled in rehab-"

"No," Joel is wild-eyed shaking his head, his eyebrows saddling. "You can’t. You just. . . You can’t do this. You can’t sacrifice everything. Your work - that sanctuary. You won’t come back. I know you, you’ll feel like you have to take care of your dad. You’ll stay there."

"It's complicated-"

"It's not." 

"Joel, my dad needs me."

"That was a horrible thing to lay on your shoulders," Joel says and he looks furious and sad all at once. "And I'm sorry for your parents, I really am, but no. You can't go. You can't do this to yourself."

"I have to go," you tell Joel. You falter, pulling back from him, needing to be out of his orbit. 

Joel stands there as you pull back from him, looking so out of place in your suite with its low ceilings, the space almost emptied of furniture. He’s like this beam you can’t look away from, this tall broad angel with eyes that look at you as if you’re actually worth something.

He breaks off, uttering a pained "Jesus Christ" and you're sure he's going to yell at you about Paul just like Maria did. 

You’re sure he’ll run from the room shouting that you’re selfish. Positive that he’ll tell you that you’re not worth all this hassle.

Instead Joel does something you're not expecting. 

He crosses the room over to you and slips to his knees, holding you around the middle before he presses his forehead gently against your abdomen. It shocks you, this action and this pose from him. He sits like this in silence for several minutes, holding you, breathing against you in heavy shudders. Your hands are on his broad shoulders, glancing down at him in confusion. 

"I'm so sorry," he finally whispers, a little murmur against you. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"I didn't need you to be," you insist, your hand going to his neck, urging his face up to look at you. He won't move his face from where it is lodged against your stomach. He can’t.

"But I should have been," Joel insists, his voice a low rasp. 

“It was so long ago.”

Almost six months since the awful incident. And you don’t carry it with you, not like Joel apparently has because now his head tilts back from your abdomen.

"I never should have walked away that day. I should have stayed. If I had none of this Tess and Paul shit would have happened. I would’ve gone back with you to Chicago." Joel's voice sounds thick with escaping emotion. "I ruined us." 

His beautiful eyes open and you watch as tears slip down his cheek. You suppose that's what makes you freeze up, your heart sinking. You've never seen Joel cry before and the sight is as shocking as it is heartbreaking. 

"Forgive me," he whispers brokenly. "Please."

You can see the anguish in his features and realize he's been living in it since you got back. This hellish landscape of grief and regret. He's been wearing it like armor weighing him down.

"Nothing to forgive," you tell him honestly, your knuckles trailing down his cheek to wipe the tears away. "Joel it was never a matter of fault. It was just how things happened."

His head drops against your stomach again and you can feel his strong shoulders begin to quake jerkily.

"I was fucking weak."

"You were human," you reply, rubbing at his shoulders, wanting to soothe him as much as he wants to soothe you. "You couldn't have known." 

"I just left you there, all hollow and quiet and I walked away," Joel's voice is ragged. "I should have stayed. That's what you do when you love someone."

Love.

It hits you with a strong, visceral acuity. Starting in your rib cage and then spreading outward, causing everything in your body to wake up.  It makes you breathless to hear it, though you've long suspected it, secretly hoped for it.

"Joel-"

"I'll never stop being sorry for it," Joel tells you simply, his face tilting up to look into yours. "Never."

Without thinking your hand is gently carding through his tousled curls. His eyes shutter closed as he leans into your hands. The moment is overwhelming in austerity and you need to break it. 

"Not even if I asked nicely?" you say with a teasing lilt to your voice.

His eyes open and he gives you a small, watery smile before he stands. He towers over you again, taking your face in his wide hands and now it’s you leaning into his touch.  

"I'd do anything you asked."

And all at once you know he's going to kiss you and that you want him to. 

He tilts his head forward and lips move over yours so gently that you sigh into his mouth. Your entire body sags towards him and instead of the fervent kisses from not that long ago, this kiss is different. It’s soft and sweet and unhurried. His soft lips move over yours, taking time to memorize how your pliant mouth moves under his, the way you inhale softly when you break apart, his wide hands still cupping your face.

Tess.

Marmalade.

Selfish.

"I'm sorry I called," you sniff, tilting your face from him. "I never should have done that. You should go, Joel." 

"You want me to go?" Joel's voice is a low aching sound. You can't look at him. You can't look into those intense, beautiful eyes of his so instead you face away from him. 

"Yes."

You feel yourself floundering, that unmistakable voice in your head screaming to run. Run from the conflict. Run from your feelings.

Run. Run.

"You're lyin'," Joel insists. 

"I'm not."

You feel his strong fingers on either side of your chin, dragging your face to meet his. But still your eyes remain closed.

"Look at me."

You shake your head the best that you can in his grip. 

"I can't have you here, Joel. I'm sorry I called you, it was wrong.”

Joel's hand is flying to slide around the back of your neck. "Stop."

"You’re with Tess," you insist with a shake of your head, pulling back from his sweet touch. "She's perfect for you. She'll make the best mom to Sarah. It makes sense, Joel. You have to see that."

"I broke it off with Tess," Joel bites off.  “I don’t want Tess.”

Your eyes fly open."What?"

"How could I keep dating her? I knew I couldn't stop wanting you. I never will." Joel feels his neck growing warm. "And she told me what she asked you to do, to stay away from Sarah."

You nod brokenly, feeling the tears gathering just at the memory compounded by this new guilt.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I just want what's best for you and Sarah. A chance at a real family."

You've ruined this for him. Joel's chance at a family, something for himself. Something for his own.  Selfish like your dad.

"Go back to Tess, Joel. Tell her it was a mistake."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"You have to, Joel. She wants you."

“And you don’t?”

It hangs there, the truth between you. If you admit it, it’s over. Any pretense you would have carried is gone. He’ll choose you because of this unknowable, untenable connection. But you’re not good for him. You’re not the kind of woman Joel Miller needs. You’ll take and take from him, leaving him with nothing in the end. It’s how your father operates, and you are your father’s daughter. Your engagement isn't even officially off. You're moving to Chicago. So what? You'll confess you love Joel? Make him feel compelled to follow you to Chicago? And what about Sarah? You're going to disrupt her life too? How is that not the most selfish thing in the world?

“No.”

Saying it physically hurts.

You love Joel. You love this man in front of you. And it’s precisely that love that sends you pushing back from him. But you’re stopped by his hand on the back of your neck again, holding you there.

"Don't," Joel says through clenched teeth."Don't stand there and lie to me of all people. You wanna lie to yourself? Fine, but not to me. Never to me. I don’t deserve it."

It is. It is a fucking lie.

"Tell me the truth," Joel urges gently, pleading. "Tell me to my face that you don't want me as much as I want you.”

You try to form the words that tell him exactly that, but you can't.

They don't exist. 

Joel nods in understanding, his warm eyes even warmer. But he can see the fear in your expression, the panic. 

"Just let me take care of you tonight," Joel whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Please." 

You're trembling against his palm, tears coating your lashes. "Okay."

Joel seems surprised by your easy acceptance but he nods, reaching down to take your hand in his. 

"Let's go to bed."

You follow him without question to the bed. He shrugs off his jacket, watching you watching him. You're eyes are owlish in your face, the tension clear. Joel brings himself up on the bed still dressed in his jeans and shirt. He lays overtop the sheet before bringing it back for you to crawl under. 

You hesitate. There is nothing more enticing than the thought of Joel making love to you right now. But it feels wrong, rushed. Too many things going on in your mind.

"I just wanna hold you," Joel explains when he sees your eyes nervously move from him to the bed. "If that's okay?"

Relief floods you and you nod, moving under the covers of your bed. And all the aching loneliness, all the terror of being lost? It’s gone. It’s gone the second you snuggle up against Joel in your bed.

His broad hand moves through your hair gently, moving it back from your flushed face before stroking it in tenderly. He stares at you, barely blinking. You muse that you could have entire conversations like this, just staring into each other's eyes. That perhaps you're having one right now. 

His eyes are so soft. How can a man made up of sharp angles and broad planes look at you with eyes so fucking soft? 

"How can you look at me like that?" you ask blinking through new tears. "After everything I've told you how can you lie there and look at me like I'm not a piece of shit?"

"Because you're not," Joel replies swiftly. "None of what your dad did is your fault. How could it be?"

"If I was there-"

"He'd still be using," Joel tells you simply. "And he'd have a new thing or person to blame for it."

"Even if that's true," you insist. "I'm his kid. I should go back."

"You're telling me if I told a grown up Sarah she had to move back home to take care of me, even if I'd barely been in her life, even if she had a whole life somewhere else, you'd tell her she was selfish for not doing it?"

Your eyes widen. Sarah. Sweet, genuine Sarah. No, you wouldn't blame her. But that's Sarah.

"She's just a kid-"

"Same age as when your dad started." Joel's eyes are watery. "How come you're so unkind to yourself? Why don't you think you deserve good things?"

"A lifetime of experience," you reply darkly.

///

And for a moment there is sudden clarity for Joel that hits him in such a way he's shocked he never understood it as easily before. 

In the job you chose, in the immediately natural way you were with the screaming Daniel, even quicker than you were with his sweet and calm Sarah.  

In the way these animals, hurt and abandoned and ignored are so much more than just pitiful creatures that pass along your desk in files. 

You see yourself in them. 

You see yourself in their haunted eyes and terrible histories. You see it in the plaintive cry of the frustrated Daniel. In this world that turns its back and its ears to them you want desperately to embrace them, to hold them to you and communicate a perfect, unending love for them.

Because no one did that for you. 

Your mom tried, Joel is sure of it. But love is hard to share when so much of it is reserved for a husband in constant crisis. When you're a frazzled mother working two jobs to keep your mortgage and your marriage and family together. Love is there of course, but it's not overt. Not like you crave. 

The kind of love that Maria gives you without question. The kind of love Joel would give to you every fucking day if you said you wanted him to be yours.

"I know I have no right to ask you to stay or demand anything from you, but, fuck, please don't do this," Joel whispers earnestly. "Don't move back to Chicago." 

You're silent. 

“If you do you’ll never come back,” Joel murmurs, his voice full of so many emotions it would be impossible to pick just one. “I know you. You’d sacrifice everything for him.”

“I. . . I don’t. . .”

Your eyes are so heavy, almost as heavy as your heart. You’ve shared so much with Joel, brought up so many painful memories it feels like you’ve run a marathon. Your head tilts against the pillow.

"Go to sleep, baby," Joel tells you, holding himself back from kissing you. "I'm here. Just sleep."

When you finally fall asleep Joel continues to look at you. His dark eyes travel the curve of your cheek, takes in the length of your lashes and the way your mouth looks half open in sleep. He memorizes each part of your face knowing that this may be his only chance to do so. 

You’re engaged. You still have that connection to your parents in Chicago. There is so much that exists in this world to take you away from him. 

He still sees it this way, outside forces wanting to rip you from him, as if he has some claim on you. He doesn't care if Paul gave you a ring. You’re his. You’re his and he has never stopped feeling this way, even though he's tried. He doesn't know he'll ever stop. 

He stops himself from kissing your sleeping mouth on more than one occasion during the night, desperate for that contact if this is really the end. 

It can't be the end. It can't.

You sigh in your sleep, shuffling closer against him for warmth or for comfort. Joel allows this, his eyes skipping closed at the calm your nearness brings him. 

I'll never ask for anything as long as I live. Just let her be mine.

He finally falls asleep with your soft breathing in the crook of his neck

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #smut #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal

[thebearer]

Okay, I feel like Teddy would have broken bones throughout her childhood for sure. But like, imagine Carmy and reader being so worried when Teddy gets hurt each time, and like the one time when she breaks or injures something and she needs to have surgery for it how freaked they are about it and like Tina, and Richie and everyone is there waiting for her. And Teddy would totally beg Marcus to make her all the desserts for her while she recovers. Thanks! I got a little carried away, lol.

i feel like teddy, yes. like ofc she's accident prone (she's literally just a ball of energy lol) but imagine this... it's willow.

like willow is so calm and sweet, but she's so clumsy too. and for some reasons she's always the one getting hurt. mainly bc teddy is so rough with her, not even intentionally, like she's just more fearless and wild.

they're jumping on the trampoline, and teddy is going absolutely insane bc a trampoline??? fuck yeah. and she's bouncing with little four year old willow, who's trying to keep up but her sister (in classic older sister style) has double bounced her like seven times. there's a net and you're watching, warning teddy each time she gets too wild, but then it happens- in seemingly slow motion.

teddy bounces willow, who flies for a second, before falling back on her side, extending her arm to brace her fall. you hear the pop! and then a shuddered breath before willow is wailing, her arm hanging by her side, bone sticking against the skin.

you're nearly lightheaded, screaming for carmen, trying to get willow off the trampoline carefully. teddy is scared to death, of course, and is sobbing too. and carmen is so overwhelmed, walking out frantically to your scared tone and two sobbing babies.

you spend your night and most of the morning in the er, each holding a crying child trying to console them. they tell you willow's break was bad and she'll need surgery, which makes you want to cry now too. carmen looks like he might genuinely pass out because the thought of his baby going to surgery???? he's horrified. needs his emotional support pepto asap.

they get her in pretty easily, and your family and friends (most from the bear) come to see her, bring her gifts and things afterwards. willow is terrified, bright eyes just wide and skittish when they tell her she's going to take a nap and come back with a cast.

carmen opts to be the parent in the waiting room, agreeing to follow all the procedures just to keep her calm until they get her under because willow would not go back there without him.

you're smothering her face in kisses. "daddy's gonna go with you, and he'll be with you the whole time, wills." you coo, smoothing a hand down her hair. "you'll get a pretty blue cast on, and then me and teddy and everyone can sign it for you. and marcus will bring you cupcakes. how's that sound?"

willow is sniffling, shuddering breaths that have your heart breaking but agrees. carmen hugs you and teddy good bye before going with them.

you're thankful richie is there, a sentence you never thought you'd say. your thankful he brought eva to keep teddy distracted, and that he could talk to a fucking brick wall if he had to. thankful he was there to keep you distracted so you didn't keep checking the time.

willow comes back, still asleep, all bandaged and wrapped up in a sling. carmen looks like he might need to throw up, which he does, but he's relieved.

willow spends the next night in the hospital, surrounded by toys and balloons and flowers- and of course, marcus brings her cupcakes.

she gets her cast eventually, and carmen draws on it for her with a sharpie. it wasn't very good, in his opinion, a little difficult to sketch with the cast material and a sharpie but willow seems to love it. giggles loudly when he shows her the various animals he'd drawn for her.

teddy enjoys it too. especially because with the influx of "get well soon" toys, she gets to play with them too. opting to "help" willow, of course, since her arm was broken. willow doesn't seem to mind, playing with her free hand with her sister, and you're just happy she's feeling better.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #bearblahs #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dilf!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #willow natalia berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear #thebearerblurbs

[halibellecter]

Break Me Open

"You want to spar? You never want to spar. Planning on defecting from us, Legate?"

"I want you to hurt me,"

"...what?"

"I want you to hurt me--" She's still so angry that she's shaking. And the right thing to do would be to spill the whole story to him, the return to the elevator, the digging, the other files-- the codes that now beyond a doubt weren't even their doing-- she nearly killed him and only to find out that her first recon mission had been right: that HE'D been right: there was no second layer, no true story, they did this to her on purpose, but... "And-- I want to hurt you. I can't-- there's so much and I can't--" Can't cry, can't scream, can't anything because Agents are always quiet, they're calm, and--

It's nice to be understood, even if at the moment, the way she knows Hunter understands what she's trying to say is via his left hook. That's a good start.

It's not enough to break her open-- let everything out so it will stop choking her-- but it feels good not to think about anything but the next few moves. Watch. Touch. Block. Dodge. Focus. Neither one of them is wearing any protective gear, belatedly she thinks she should've let him put some on but kicking against bone and tissue hurts, too, more than if he was wrapped up. They've never fought like this before, not before Quesh and not when she could finally hurt him. Not when she nearly killed him-- even then he went down easier, with that shock device. She can feel bruises forming and while they're not aiming for each other's face or head, accidents happen-- she'll have a black eye by tomorrow and her lip is split, nose bleeding, the blood mixing with sweat... striking and breaking apart again and again. It's so high energy that a stitch aches in her side as if she'd been running. No good, still no good. A few seconds where her eyes mist up or her voice jumps to a little louder than usual, but still...

Finally, both panting and bleeding-- when did she do that to his eye? ouch-- Legate curls in around her side, trying to guard the painful muscle spasm that keeps going every time she moves, and leaves her other side open. He lunges, and they both go down onto the mat, hard, rolling over and over. It's hard to fill her lungs up while being slammed down on her back and twisting around him to gain the upper hand. She didn't prefer either of them to win, not really; as long as they beat the osik out of each other that was fine with her--

But there is a winner, she realizes as his face looms over hers, as his hands clench around her shoulders, pinning her to the mat, locked in place. With some difficulty he frees a hand, shifts his weight,

"Wh-what--"

"Shut up," He moves around her carefully, as if she's the enemy-- isn't she?-- aware that she's still trying to get out of his grip, and suddenly manages to get the right angle to scrub the sharp points of his knuckles against her sternum.

Pain. Pain, and an overwhelming amount of it. She gasps in a breath.

"Hunter--!"

"You wanted me to hurt you." He digs the points deeper, and something breaks-- fortunately, only on the inside of her mind. Of course it's okay for her eyes to water a little. They don't use this trick in interrogations for nothing. Her next gasp comes out broken, a catch and then a rough sob. Her eyes finally brim over and tears spill down onto the mat.

"There you go. Keep going."

She assumes he'll draw back, give her some space, he hates this kind of mushy feelings crap, but he doesn't even move his hand away. He doesn't move it at all, in fact, except to gently rock his knuckles back and forth, watching her face and occasionally telling her she's doing good. He keeps varying where the points are exactly, but holds steady pressure that gives her constant pain-- and a constant reason to be sobbing as he pins her down. It's so bad, rough and dull and like an ache that's on fire, but that means it's a good excuse-- one that doesn't stop until she seems to have run out of tears, exhausted and only feeling half real. He pulls his hand back.

"Better?"

"Y-y-y---" she finally just nods, swallowing hard. He untangles them, stands up. Doesn't offer a hand.

"You good?"

More nodding.

"You're welcome. And Legate?"

She tilts her head at him, still not quite trusting herself to speak.

"Next time it's my turn."

He only waits for one nod before slipping out of the room, leaving her alone-- still sniffling-- in the middle of the mat.

I guess it takes one to know one.

#swtor #imperial agent #freaking ren #imperial agent x hunter #SIGH #swtor hunter #can't believe this tag is on my blog now #disgraceful #whump

[ghouljams]

The Price family « also feels like big Christmas people » - Ok now I need to know what their Christmas holidays look like.

Looks like a freakin' hallmark movie man. The house gets decorated top to toe, Goose and Duck bake Christmas cookies and make elaborate gingerbread houses. Price goes out and chops down a Christmas tree. Gifts are all picked with extra care and consideration. The stockings are all hand made, and the tv always has a Christmas movie on. Definitely the family that has "A Christmas Story" on all day the 25th, can probably(definitely) quote the whole thing by memory.

Ghost's first Christmas on the farm is... a lot for him. He's never had that sort of happy family Christmas, and I think it hurts more than he thought it would to be part of it. There's a very angry child in him that is desperate to know why he couldn't have this, why he never got more than a half finished carton of cigarettes and a smack on the back of the head. He has to excuse himself multiple times, has to go to the barn and just sit for a while to collect himself. I think he fights with Goose when she goes out to check on him, because he doesn't know how to get the bad feelings out any other way. And I think she takes it like a champ, scrunches up her face but doesn't cry and just sits with him until he breaks down.

I think it's hard for him to put words to the resentment, the jealousy, the feeling that he doesn't deserve this. But he sits with Goose in the barn and she holds his hand tight while he stares out into the cool night air of a Texas December. He doesn't wail and sob, but tears roll down his cheeks. Neither of them say anything, Goose leans against his side, gentle pressure, reassurance and nothing more. And they do this a lot. Every time it's too much. Every time it hurts in a bad way. Every time Duck calls him baby and all he can think about is how much his mum would've liked this. It's a rough first Christmas.

But by the time he has his first daughter, it's easier. He's not singing Christmas carols, but he does help decorate cookies, he helps set up the tree, he goes out to the barn just to have Goose follow him so he can tell her he loves her, and that he's sure (so so sure) that if he has to watch Elf one more time he's going to lose it.

#ghoul speaks #what was the question? #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley #oc: goose #cowboy!141 #I'll write some christmas fic when december rolls around #but here u go have fun

[ackermonie]

hiding away

request by @luna0713hunter : If…its not too much, may i request a gojo x female reader, where reader is dealing with some huge matters in her life and keeps on a strong face but one day when she's alone she breaks down and gojo finds her? something hurt/comfort,soft and sweet?

(The reader is one year younger than "toru and is a grade one sorcerer.)

Im sorry for the trouble,but im facing some major problems rn and i could use some comfort?

a/n: i hope im not too late, and i hope you’re doing better!! i’m actually going through a rough patch myself so writing this was comforting, so i hope it does the same for you!! i hope i did your request justice<3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you’re strong. everyone knows so, you’ve proved so many, many times before, so it wasn’t unusual for the people around you to watch you maintain your position and keep a straight face when they know well just how much you’re enduring.

they must’ve either gotten used to it, or just plain got tired of trying to ask you if you need to talk or let something out, and you’re fine with that. in fact, that’s the whole damn point.

pressure eventually suffocates you more. you see your work eventually go south despite your constant attempts, and the higher ups only have you to blame.

and as much of a grade 1 sorcerer, you’re still human.

this was a test for your new breaking point. you were waiting, feeling the weight on your chest get heavier until you eventually have to explode, and you were oh so glad it happened when you were alone.

or thought you were alone, at least.

but it was dawn. you just received a couple of videos of a curse scene, blood everywhere, and the taunting, fresh crimson paints your failure in the cement.

you’re sat on your awfully empty bed, not bothering to reach for gojo’s side because you know you’ll be landing on nothing.

he’s been away for almost a week, held up somewhere in another continent, ripping you away from the only source of comfort you have.

you lock your phone, dropping it somewhere to your right, and your hands climb up to your face. you try your best to keep it in, to convince yourself that no, this can’t be where you break, but your brain spirals out of control.

and you can’t take it anymore. you just can’t. your body physically grows more shaky the more you keep your emotions locked in. you hide your face away from the emptiness around you, feeling the glass finally begin to crack, then it shatters all together.

once the first sob is out of your mouth, you can’t stop what follows. you bend down, silent tears involuntarily escaping past very heavy eyelids.

you think you’re finally at the point of hallucination when you feel the bed dip from your right. it wasn’t long after that a hand lands on your back while another tries to sit you up properly, and you, realizing that this touch is too vivid and familiar to be imagined, attempt to turn your face away. 

“no, baby,” you hear him say. “don’t hide from me.”

you shake your head, a sad whimper accidentally escaping your throat, and you try to push away from him.

he can’t see you like this. you can’t be like this.

“it’s just me,” he holds your hands down skillfully and moves you further towards him. “it’s only me, sweets. don’t hide from me.”

“i-i can’t!”

he tries to pull your face towards him, and you notice that his blindfold is off. you can’t help but gravitate towards the free sea within, helplessly letting him look deep within your soul as he asks.

“can’t what?” a thumb swipes at a soaked cheek. “talk to me.”

“i can’t…” you trail off, head shaking frantically as if to shake the emotions away. “i can’t do this anymore!”

“i know,” he nods, and your fingers wrinkle the material of his shirt. “keep talking.”

“i keep fuh-fucking trying, satoru,” you hiccup, eyes frantic, wide, exploding. “i keep trying over and over and fucking over again and it’s always fruitless. i end up getting blamed. i always end up-“

you stare at him, sadness and disappointment consuming you to the core as you spell the next words out loud.

you attempt a mocking shrug. “i always end up a failure.”

satoru’s lips turn downwards in some unexplainable emotion. “we both know this isn’t true.”

you shake your head, weak limbs once more attempting to pull away from the strongest arms, but they don’t budge.

“don’t turn away from me,” he says, but the softness of his voice makes more tears pool out of your tired eyes. “let yourself cry, y/n. at least allow yourself this.”

“i-i can’t, ‘toru,” you whimper. “i can’t just—“

“you can. you already are, and i’m right here. you can be as vulnerable as you want to be.” he nods when your features break once more, one heavy, massive sob breaking out of your chest. “i’ll always find you when you need me.”

he pulls your hands together at his nape, hands trailing from their and down to your waist where he pulls you on his lap, and that was your cue to loose the remaining of your composure.

he leans his back against the headrest. a hand is massaging your scalp while the other rubs up and down your back, and you let yourself cry in your lover’s arms.

“always, baby. always.”

#ackermonie writes #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gojo angst #gojo hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #gojo imagines #gojo drabbles #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I ask you write the League of Villains with a Carrie White!reader? Carrie and Tomura would end up falling in love as time went by because they share several similarities.

-Your mother always kept you on a short leash, to control you, to make sure that you didn’t do anything bad, anything sinful, and if you expressed your own desires, like going out to play, she would gaslight you, making you out to be the villain for leaving your ‘poor mother’ at home all by herself.

-You grew up extremely sheltered, and your mother did her best to make you believe the world was a dangerous place and the safest place was right next to her.

-She was quirkless and she viewed quirks as the work of the devil, even if it was something good, that would help others like a healing quirk, they were evil.

-So, when your own quirk manifested… it didn’t end well for you, harsh yelling, beatings, anything she could do to drive the devil from you, saying you were a sinner for having a quirk, despite it not being your fault.

-At school it wasn’t better, you were bullied mercilessly for one reason or another, for your naivety, your lack of cell phone, fun accessories, and many other reasons.

-You felt so alone, so scared, until it reached a boiling point.

-You didn’t mean to start that fire, after pig blood had been dumped on top of you in front of the whole school at an assembly, embarrassing you.

-Your powers went wild, locking all windows and doors, trapping everyone inside as a fire started. As they tried to break out with the quirks, you would grab them and pull them back, even as they begged you for mercy, but you had none to give because they didn’t deserve it.

-And when your mother arrived, seeing what you had done, she tried to attack you, coming at you with a knife, and when the police did nothing to stop her, mainly because they were too shocked to react, you killed her too, lashing out to protect yourself.

-You then ran as the police tried to arrest you, as you had killed so many students, teachers, and your mother, but they refused to listen to you that you were the victim of their harsh treatments.

-It was Shigaraki who found you, after you were hiding out in an abandoned warehouse as you couldn’t go home, he had seen the news and was impressed with your ability and drive, not realizing that it was a stress induced accident.

-He was stunned, when he offered you a hand, willing to take you in, to give you a home, when you lunged into his arms, hugging him tightly, sobbing into his shoulder. He had the first to ever show you kindness.

-Shigaraki learned that you were a lot like him, having an extremely rough childhood, from not only your mother but your peers as well, and that you felt so alone, nobody would help you.

-This made him rather possessive of you, wanting to keep you by his side, which did take some getting used to as he was a boy and you were a little hesitant getting close, the conditioning of your mother showing its ugly face.

-The others in the League of Villains were welcoming to you, which you had never had before, they became friends- teaching you to have fun, and you learned that quirks were just a normal part of life, they weren’t something evil like what your mother was teaching you.

-They helped you learn about your quirk and taught you how to use it, to control it. It wasn’t a very strong quirk, telekinesis, but Shigaraki was able to tell that you were stronger than you looked, but that strength only came out during high stress, and he didn’t feel right doing that to you, you were a lot like him, he wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the real evil of the world.

-It was a slow burn for you and Shigaraki, as you learned that he couldn’t touch you without risk of hurting you, but the two of you make it work, carefully, learning as you went. Toga thought the two of you were adorable, playfully teasing you which would make you turn bright red, but you knew, unlike the students you had killed, her teasing was harmless and playful.

-You didn’t go out and cause mayhem like the others, you weren’t a fighter, but they didn’t make you feel any less for it, Shigaraki preferred it that way, as he didn’t want you being hurt or getting arrested as authorities were still looking for you, deeming you as a villain.

-You were his reward for coming back in one piece, he would come back and sag into your arms, hugging you close, safely of course, and bask in your shy and gentle affections, and to feel safe and loved is all you wanted.

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #bnha x reader

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, fluff

Words: 2,416

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Dean’s POV

Dean doesn’t feel better for the amount of whiskey he drank last night. He feels worse. Much worse. The guilt hasn’t been washed away like he’d hoped it would be; not just guilt that he’d fucked his brother’s widow, but also that he’d left her alone in his bed afterwards. That was not one of his finer moments, and if he could take it back, he’d have stayed there with her wrapped in his arms all night long.

Last night with Y/N was everything he could’ve imagined and more, but he knows not to hope for anything more than that. She’s far too good for him. Too kind. Too caring. Too beautiful. He doesn’t deserve her. Especially after he tricked her into kissing him and then took her to bed. And the hatred he had for himself just kept on coming. How could he do that?

He really fucked things up. He always does. Another reason he doesn’t deserve her – or rather, she doesn’t deserve him. He can feel tears prick at his eyes again, but sniffs them back as he hears movement from upstairs. Y/N will be down soon, and he’ll be damned if she sees him cry like a baby when he knows she’s hurting way more than he is right now.

As soon as she walks through the door, he looks down, feeling far too cowardly to look at her. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” He asks, trying to make himself look busy.

“Fine. Though it looks like you’ve had a rough night,” Y/N replies, and Dean can hear the tremor in her voice. He swears if he could punch himself in the face he’d knock himself out cold for what he’s done to her.

“Couldn’t sleep. You want coffee?” He glances up at her for the first time, but only because he hears her keys jangling.

“I have to go.” Y/N’s voice is monotone, and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that all her pain and anger is because of him.

“Sweetheart, I thought we were gonna talk about this? You promised me, good or bad,” he begs. Yes, she did promise him that, but he’s well aware that he shifted the goalposts on that promise when he took her into his bed.

“And we will,” her voice is trembling and her eyes are watering, and Dean would rather face the hounds of hell than see this much pain on her beautiful face. “But I can’t right now, okay?” She avoids eye contact with him as she turns to walk away.

“Y/N, please! Don’t walk away from me on this! It’s too important. You’re too important.” Dean knows he’s losing her, and desperately tries to stop her from walking out that door, because he fears that if she does, he’ll never see her again.

“And I said I can’t right now, Dean!” Her tears fall thick and fast and her words leave her in a sob. “I need some time with all of this, okay? It’s too much. And I’m meeting Jody soon. I’ll call you later, so why don’t you get some sleep now that I’m not in your bed,” she finishes with pure venom in her voice and wipes the tears from her eyes as she turns to walk out the door.

“Y/N! It’s not like that, I swear! You’ve got it all wrong!” Dean shouts, but is met with nothing but the sound of his door slamming.

Running after her and trying to get to her before she drives off, he swings the door open and sprints down the front steps, but he isn’t quick enough. Y/N is already in the car and is driving down the street.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells, not caring for his neighbours or the early hour, and goes back inside and slams the door shut. Picking up his cell phone, he calls the only person he trusts with something this big.

“Dad? I messed up with Y/N and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“You gonna tell me what happened, son, or are you just gonna sit there and hope it goes away?” John asks, but Dean keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.

With a loud sigh, John sits next to him and also remains silent. Dean had always had a deep, sensitive side – just like his mother, John always told him – and Dean knew his father would sit right there next to him until he was ready to talk about it.

“I slept with Y/N,” Dean eventually murmurs, glancing up only when John lets out a low whistle.

“Didn’t she have a date last night?” he frowns, and Dean can see the cogs turning behind his concerned gaze.

“Yeah. It was the perfect date with the perfect guy,” Dean sighs, and drags his hand over his face.

“I’m not following here,” John chuckles. “If it was the perfect date with the perfect guy, why did she end up in your bed?”

“She came to me upset after the date because Jacob,” Dean scoffs his name, “apparently, was the perfect gentleman and took her on the perfect date and kissed her goodnight. But Y/N didn’t feel anything. She said she felt numb and then got even more upset asking me if Sammy was the only person she was supposed to be with, and if she was broken for not feeling anything with date dude.

“I tried to convince her she was wrong, that he just wasn’t the guy for her, but she was too far inside her head, you know how she gets. She was gonna go home, but I didn’t think she should be alone. I kissed her as a kinda experiment to see if she felt anything with me. I was expecting disgust, honestly, but she started to kiss back and it just…” Dean doesn’t finish his thought. Doesn’t need to, so he lets it hang in the air.

“And it led to you two having sex,” John nods in understanding of his son’s panicked babbling. “What makes you think you’ve fucked things up with her?”

“After, when she was asleep, the guilt I felt that I’d slept with Sammy’s wife and that I took advantage of her… it was killing me and I went downstairs and drank. And I cried,” Dean’s voice was cracking as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “And I begged him to forgive me for falling in love with his girl, and I prayed that she wouldn’t hate me in the morning.”

“You left her alone after sleeping with her? Dean, tell me you went back to bed?” John asks and curses loudly. “How could you do that? Do you know what she must’ve been feeling?”

“Dad–”

“No, you will listen to me!” John barks, and Dean is quick to shut his mouth and slump down in the chair. “You are the first person she’s been with since her husband and you left her alone? You say you felt guilty about it, how do you think she felt, Dean? Do you think she doesn’t feel guilty? Doesn’t feel like she has betrayed her husband by sleeping with his brother? Do you think maybe she woke up in the morning, alone, in a cold, empty bed and thought ‘oh, I’m just another notch on Dean’s bedpost,’ on top of the guilt and the betrayal and the shame, huh? Did you even stop to think about that?”

“I didn’t,” Dean admits sadly. “I got so caught up in thinking about Sammy and that I’d taken advantage of her that I never stopped to consider how she was feeling.”

“Y/N is not one to be taken advantage of, son. If she slept with you, it’s because she wanted to,” John states firmly before the two men share a moment of silence. Dean, at least, is thankful for a break in the interrogation and hopes a break in tension happens soon too.

“Listen, Dean,” John speaks, much calmer than he’d been before. “She’d chop off your balls if you tried something she didn’t want!” he smirks and, with a sad smile Dean nods in agreement with him.

“If you want my opinion, Dean, you need to sit down with her and talk about this and what comes next. And you need to accept how she feels and what she says.” John claps Dean’s shoulder and stands, making his way to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, refusing the beer. “I think I’ll go to the garage for a few hours. Seems like a good time to bash the frame of that Mustang back into shape. Give me time to think a bit before I call her.”

“Don’t leave it too long, Dean. She needs to know she wasn’t a mistake,” John’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies as he stands and puts his jacket on.

“And Dean? If you need it, you have my blessing to be with her. And I’m sure you have Sammy’s too. If you’re in love and will be happy together, then I support you. Sam would want her to be happy and to be with a good man. You’re a good man, Dean, but you need to fix this. I’m not losing both of them,” John warns and Dean nods.

“You won’t,” he promises. “I’ll fix it.”

Working out all the dents and scratches, and doing the welding work on the body of the beat up old Mustang was somewhat therapeutic to Dean, and he felt like he’d managed to work out most of his frustrations at himself within a few hours. Y/N had mentioned that morning that she was meeting Jody and he didn’t think she’d lie to him about something like that, so he’d give her a little more time before he went over.

The thought that if he called her, she wouldn’t pick up has been at the forefront of his mind, so he decided showing up at her house, knowing she’ll let him in even if it was reluctantly, is the better option. She’s too polite to turn him away, and he knows she wouldn’t make a scene at her doorstep with her nosy neighbours always watching from their windows.

As Dean cleans up the shop and puts away the tools he’s been using, his phone starts to ring. With a heavy dread settling in his stomach, he sees that it’s Jody calling, and he knows she’s going to tear him a new one.

“Hey, Jody,” he answers the call, trying to hide his nerves.

“How are you, Dean?” she asks, concern lacing her voice, and it takes him off guard.

“I’ve been better,” he chuckles sadly.

“I bet,” Jody responds.

“How’s Y/N?” Dean asks before holding his breath for the answer.

“I’d say about as good as you,” Jody laughs softly. “Look, Dean, I’m not calling to burst your balls, but I do need to know one thing.”

“Anything,” Dean agrees quickly.

“Do you regret what happened last night?” Jody asks and Dean’s heart shatters.

“What? No! Of course not,” he insists sincerely.

“She thinks you do, Dean.”

“Shit! She does? Is that why she couldn’t get away from me quick enough this morning?” Dean feels a small bloom of hope in his chest that this won’t end as badly as he thinks it will.

“Alright, I don’t have a lot of time here, Y/N’s in the restroom and will be back any minute, so I’m just gonna say this. You slept with her then left her alone in bed all night while you were drowning your sorrows in a bottle of whiskey. She wakes up to an empty bed, feeling guilty for betraying her husband, and when she comes downstairs she finds an empty liquor bottle and the first man she’s fucked since her husband avoiding eye contact with her. How would you interpret that, Dean?”

“Fuck!” Dean yells, feeling even worse than he did this morning if that was possible.

“You need to talk this out with her,” Jody advises sternly.

“You’re right, I do. And I’m planning on going to the house later. I wanted to make sure she was home from seeing you first,” Dean replies. “Can you do me a favour and text me when she’s on her way?”

“I’ll convince her to order dessert at The Bunker. It shouldn’t be hard, her favourite is on the specials,” Jody says, and Dean can hear the smile in her voice. “I can stall her for about an hour if you want to come by and drive her home.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be waiting outside. Thanks, Jody,” Dean smiles.

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

And with that, Jody ends the call. Smiling for the first time all day, Dean quickly finishes tidying up before hurrying home to shower and change into clean clothes before going to see Y/N. The last thing he needs is to be having a serious conversation and pouring his heart out while covered in grease and sweat.

Dean gets to The Bunker with time to spare, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He wants to be waiting for her. He wants her to know that she’s important to him and that he wants to fix things between them.

He parks Baby outside the restaurant and gets out of the car, leaning against her hood and waiting patiently for Y/N. When he sees her walking towards him, his heart skips a beat, and he can’t remember a time when he’d felt more nervous, and it reaffirms just how much she’s come to mean to him these past few months.

Dean watches as she laughs with Jody, but his heart sinks when he sees her stop suddenly, her smile fading as their eyes meet. He keeps his eyes on her and sees Jody lean in and say something to her.

After the brief conversation, the women hug and part ways, and Jody sends a wink and a thumbs up his way. Y/N lowers her gaze and slowly walks towards him. When he opens the passenger door for her, she finally glances up.

“Hey,” she says as she gets in the car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but he isn’t confident it reaches his eyes, because he’s so damn nervous about what comes next.

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #angst #tw: grief #tw: grieving

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

hello how are you? I cane for 2 What if request 1 for Yandere hospital chairperson Xavier,what if reader got sick naturally like cancer,and the isolation just made it worst,how will he cope up with it,seeing reader in pain and crying because she have to shave her hair,and get depressed she loves her hair really and he knows it.

Yandere! Hospital Chairperson x Caretaker! Reader

WHAT IF: Darling got sick?

This one is gonna be short, we're going straight to the point!

Ah god, I forgot I don't know how to write angst.

"Leukemia?"

Your shaky voice slipped past your lips.

"You're saying I have Leukemia?"

It felt like the whole world crumbled under your feet, shooting you straight down to the abyss.

Everything felt heavy. Your head feels numb.

"I-I have so much to live for! I..." You tried to speak more, but your words failed you.

You felt like your body betrayed you one last time.

Your knees buckled, falling down to the floor as tears started to prickle your eyes.

Xavier, who was just beside you, also felt numb.

His beloved has Leukemia?

He looked at his friend who nodded. "I'll go."

With a silent click, the doctor left the mansion. Only leaving the cold, empty mansion to be filled by your loud sobs.

Xavier didn't know what to do at all.

He did everything to protect you from sicknesses of the outside world, but who knew it would be your own body to betray you?

Days passed, and you didn't stop crying at all.

Every time Xavier tries to approach you, you would throw the nearest object to him.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" You screamed, your voice raw and rough. "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"

It's not his fault, but it felt like the whole world was challenging him, taunting him, hurting him for loving you.

With the chemo lab finished being constructed in his home, he knew it was the start of a long and arduous journey to heal.

He heard your muffled sobs from the bathroom and the electric buzz of the shaver.

He could imagine your beautiful locks that you took pride in, slowly fall down from your body as you wept in anguish and despair.

Xavier looked at the men, the best doctors in the world that he could hire. They bit their tongue, knowing that if they failed...

This man in front of them, eyes desperate with your happiness and health, will do everything for you.

Xavier mechanically looked down at the ipad he's holding.

It's all the doctors' families. All of them being monitored.

And all of them will be dead if you die.

Xavier.

A man who was supposed to help heal people,

was willing to kill,

For you.

And he will bring down the world to your feet in order for you to be healed.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

[chronicpain-itsastruggle]

Third surgery of the year went rocky yesterday. I have cried a lot in the last 48 hours. My mom and husband came with me and my mom was able to stay with all the way up to laying down for surgery bc babe had a therapy appointment i wanted him to go to and he agreed. My nurse was so nice and sweet but she tried and failed once to get my IV in. Then the anesthesiologist came in and was a very quiet man. And he sat and picked and prodded at my right hand for about 30 minutes. He tried twice with a lidocaine shot each time before he finally got an iv placed on the inside of my right wrist the third try, also with a lidocaine shot first. I sobbed the whole time. I barely remember walking to the surgery room and laying on the table. Then i woke up holding my moms hand so confused and then in 10/10 pain in my left arm where they took more of my arm out. I screamed and sobbed in pain. I asked Mom “where is Tyler?? Where is babe?!” I didnt even open my eyes i was crying in so much pain. My mom told me they couldnt reach him and i sobbed even harder, terrified. Tyler walked in abt 3 minutes later. His phone wasnt getting calls and he literally sped from home when he saw the voicemail notification. They held my hands as the nurses pushed a bit more pain and anxiety meds and i sobbed in pain. It took a while to get me to Tyler’s truck. I puked twice before i got home, revisiting the apple juice i had tried right after waking up and coming to. Once home i slept a lot on the couch. In and out of consciousness. Tyler stress cleaned our kitchen building our new shelf for our pantry and even selling our dog crate we’ve been needing to sell. So he was very productive awesomely while i was in and out of sleepy town.

Our dog Jupiter, his timing impeccable as always, had diarrhea and pukey all night so we were up every twoish hours having Tyler take him outside again and again. I woke up each time but had to stay on the couch. It was a very rough night.

Today has been the day after surgery and the pain has been so severe. I am staying on top of my pain meds. And thankfully i have been able to eat and drink just fine. The pain is just incredible and severe. We had to take the bandage off and clean it tonight and i sobbed thru the whole thing in agony. Tyler was so patient and gentle with me. I was so brave and its rewrapped and I’m back on the couch calming down while i write this. Im exhausted and it hurts and im so glad i gave myself a month before i go back to work because this is going to be a long recovery.

If anyone is so inclined or wants to: my cashapp and venmo is @ earnham and literally anything will help. I am having to spend so much on medical supplies and dont know when my fmla will actually go thru. Im also going to link my amazon wishlist eventually with a bunch of melanoma gear for this summer but that will be closer to my bday in June bc thats what ima be asking for this year, is help with anything on my wishlist.

This isnt the point of the post i rly just needed to vent my past 48 hours. Thanks for reading if u did.

#fuck cancer #fuck melanoma #cancer #melanoma #surgery #cancer surgery #chronic pain #chronically ill #chronic illness #wheelchair #disabled #chronic fatigue #spoonie #actually disabled #cripple punk #invisible illness #cashapp #venmo

[king-zacharyy]

Part 1 Part 2 (Here) Part 3

TW: Hospitals, Previous character death mention, injury mentions

——————————————

The next time Steve wakes up, it's to a cacophony of noise. His head is pounding, and the hospital lights and the sound in the room are only making it worse. He lets out a low groan, whimpering as the sound agrivates his head.

The room becomes almost entirely silent, save for the beeping of the EKG he's hooked up to. "Robbie." He whispers, and the next he knows, the overhead lights are off, and a bedside lamp is turned on. He slumps in relief and squint around the room, trying to see what was making all that noise.

It took a few seconds for his pounding head to process the blur everything had to it and sighed. Robin must've taken out his contacts at some point. "Robs?" His voice was still a bit rough, and his throat was definitely sore, but it didn't hurt as much to talk.

"Hey, Stevie. I'm here. Migrane?" Her voice was soft in the way it always was on bad head days. It brought a small smile to his face.

He made a noise of confirmation. "Wr're m' glasses?" He slurred, and in the next moment, everything became clear again as his best friend slipped the circular frames on his face.

He took in the faces around him, realizing that half the party was in the room. Dustin and Erica were passed out in a couple of chairs behind Robin, Nancy was sitting in a chair on the other side of his bed, Jonathan standing behind her, Will leaning into Jon's side, and at the foot of his bed...

"H– Hop?" There the Chief stood, not looking quite as dead as previously believed.

"Hey, kiddo." Hopper's soft-spoken words broke a dam, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

Steve tore off his glasses, scrubbing at his face and trying to stifle his sobs. He was pulled into a familiar chest. Gentle, but sturdy, fingers combed through his hair, thumbs massaging at his temples, and he melted into the familiar touch.

Jim Hopper. Who he thought was dead. Who took him in after Billy Hargrove rocked his shit. Who took care of him through migranes and bad days. Who took him to get glasses when he noticed Steve's vision getting worse. Who refused to let him go home to his big empty house whenever he was at the cabin. Who built him a room at said cabin when he could've just kept staying on the couch. Jim Hopper, who was more of a Dad to him in a single year than his actual father had been his whole life.

"D–Dad– Where were you? Why–" He was cut off by a tight squeeze and a face buried in his hair.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you and your sister. Trust me, son, I wanted to be. I'll explain more once you've calmed down and everyone can share their sides of the story. For now, I need you to breathe."

Steve took a shuddering breath, exhaling shakily. He spent a couple of minutes doing that until his breathing had evened out. The pounding in his head returned with a vengeance, and he let out a whimper at the pain.

"Here, dingus. Nance made me go home to shower and get some sleep, so I went by your place and got some of your stuff. I brought your meds just in case." Robin said, passing him a cup of water and his migrane medicine.

He took the pills and slumped against Hopper, his left hand clutched in Robin's like she never let go. This moment would be perfect if his Ellie and Maxie were here, but as it were, he was perfectly content to just sit here with his capital P soulmate and his– his Dad.

If you told him a year ago that he had called Hopper Dad, he probably would have laughed in your face and played it off. A year ago, Steve would have, likely, been embarrassed, but now? Now he's just glad to have him back. He didn't feel that churn of embarrassment in his gut. He just felt content. Because Hopper is his dad, simple as that.

Eventually, he had to pull away. He slipped on his glasses and glanced around the room again, noticing everyone else had left. Steve cleared his throat, the pain in his head receding as the meds kicked in, and leveled Hopper with a look as the man took a seat in Nancy's vacated chair.

"Explain."

"Kid, you're getting through a migrane. I think this can wait–"

"Dad." The title is a conscious decision this time, a means of getting his attention, but also showing him he meant it. Hopper's mouth snapped shut, and he heaved a loud sigh.

Hop got up from his chair and let everyone else back in. They spent the next 30 or so minutes explaining everything that happened on both sides. Steve gripped Robin's hand in a tight squeeze when they got to the Russian stuff, and she returned the grip with the same fervor.

"Where is everyone else?" Steve asked once the explanations petered out.

"El and Lucas are sitting with Max right now, and Mike is with Eddie." Dustin answered from his chair, which was now pulled up next to Robin.

"Joyce and Murray are dealing with government people, last I heard. Trying to get me declared not-dead and trying to clear the Munson boy's name. If i had to guess, they're also discussing this batch of NDAs."

Steve nodded and had a wordless argument with Robin, consisting of facial expressions and hand gestures.

I want to see Max

You need to rest. You just woke up with a migrane.

No. I've been resting! You said you would take me to her when I woke up.

That was before you woke up with a migrane!

Robbie.

Robin threw up her hands with a groan. "Fine! I'll go find a nurse." Steve gave a smug grin, and she shot him a glare before leaving the room.

"I hate when you guys do that! Care to fill in the rest of us?" Dustin complained.

"Well, Robs is getting a nurse to, presumably, get a wheelchair for me since I doubt Rob will let me walk, and they're gonna take me to Max's room." A grin was plastered on Steve's face, despite the way it made his temples twinge in pain.

"Steve–"

"No." Steve cut Nancy off before she could continue her argument, giving her a cold stare. "I just had this argument with Robin. None of you are going to stop me from seeing her or any of the others."

"I learned a long while ago to not argue when it comes to the kids, especially their safety. If we don't let him, he'll just sneak off or find a way to get to them." Hopper said with a resigned sigh and a fond smile.

Steve shot his Dad– his Dad– a cheeky grin that turned into a genuine smile when Robbin returned with a wheel chair that she deposited by his bed before leveling him with a hard stare.

"Now, I am only allowing this because I know you'll do it anyways no matter what I say, but I swear to God, Steve. If I catch wind of you going to Max's room or Eddie's out of the wheelchair before you're cleared to walk? I will kill you myself, then I'll bring you back to life, because let's be honest, we're both way too codependent to live without each other."

Steve huffed a small laugh but nodded in agreement nonetheless. "I think we're entitled to a bit of codependency after being tortured and drugged together." He joked with a shrug and let his Dad and Robin help him into the chair. He winced as his sides pulsed with pain at the movement but waved off the concerned looks.

"Let's go!" Steve quietly exclaimed, mindful of his still aching head and throat, and they were off to Max's room, Robin pushing him the whole way.

——————————————

Alright! I am going to cut it off there because this was getting long. I will be making a part 3, so let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

——————————————

Part 3

@thespaceantwhowrites @child-of-cthulhu @plantzzsandpencilzzs @thebadasshistorian

#tw: hospital #tw: injury #steve and robin #steve harrington #steve and hopper #steve and max #this will be steddie eventually i promise #jim hopper #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #will byers #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #fanfic #stranger things #st fic #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #joyce byers #murray bauman

[francis-writes]

Could you please do a Ramsay x Reader where she is captured and he is mean to her at first but eventually has a soft spot for her. If you could make it a smut that would be awesome where he is dominate in bed?

A/N: I am sorry, it turned out probably less uhh fluffy than you expected. Capture and domination are kept in the story, soft spot is debatable.

Warnings: Ramsay being Ramsay, cutting, mentions of torture, non-con

Reader is gender neutral

You pressed your legs to your chest, trying to protect yourself from coldness of your cell. Stone floor wasn't comfortable in anyway and your body was aching, no matter which position you tried - sitting, laying on your back, laying curled up etc.

You didn't expect your situation to get any better soon, to be perfectly honest, you were certain that it will only get much worse. Your host wasn't a person known for his mercy. No, Ramsay Bolton's guests often ended up skinless and crucified. It didn't seem that you would be any exception, considering how he was treating you. Fortunately, you still had your entire skin and probably mostly unbroken bones. Since your capture, you kept seeing young lord Bolton everyday but for now he only kept mocking and threatening you. A few times he maimed another prisoner and made sure that you were looking. It seemed that for now, he didn't need to hurt your body, it was enough for him to see that fear in your eyes. Torturing people was great for him, for sure, but breaking them mentally could create almost as good entertainment.

***

Ramsay was walking through the corridors of Dreadfort, heading to the dungeon. He recently enjoyed spending his time there for more reasons than usually (the bar was low because his usual reason was just torturing prisoners).

One of the people he captured last week, captured young Bolton's attention. They were beautiful and he considered hunting them in the wood but eventually he left that idea. At least for now. He could always sent them to the woods but at this moment he just enjoyed seeing fear at their face when they saw what he was capable of. He wanted them to be already scared and broken when he would finally take care of them. And that was probably this day. He couldn't wait any longer - denying himself pleasure was never his strong spot.

Ramsay found your cell and looked at you, hiding in the corner. He would take you right there and right now but he decided that he would rather have some more privacy this time. He opened the door and you raised your head.

"You are lucky" he said "Today will be able to see my bed chamber"

***

His hand pressed your face into hard floor. You managed to turn your head a bit so you could stare into a wall while his hand ripped off whatever was left of your clothes. His fingers, warm and calloused after years of working with knives, bows and other deadly weapons, wandered across your skin, squeezing your flesh so hard that you had to hold back a yelp. You couldn't see what was happening but realized everything when a sharp pain pierced your body. He cut you with a knife. Moreover, he kept doing. You cried, praying that there's still an ounce of mercy left in him.

"I beg you my Lord, don't flay me... I will do whatever you want" you pleaded between sobs.

"Don't worry, I'm not flaying you now. I only carve my name, so you will remember whom you belong to"

It comforted you a bit, though specifying that he wouldn't flay you "now" sounded a bit worrying.

You tried to grit your teeth and stay silent but he added:

"Don't hold back. You don't need to hide your cries, screams and whining. They won't help you but I would love to hear them"

After he finished his little artpiece, Ramsay leaned over and licked the blood off your wounds. You gasped as his rough tongue caressed your cuts.

He grabbed your thighs, pulled your ass up and your whole body closer to himself. He was a strong man, who spent most of his free time in the woods and you were still malnourished after staying locked in the dungeons, so manhandling you was the easiest thing to Ramsay.

Without any further preparation, he pulled out his cock and entered you. You didn't see him, but you could feel that he was thick. You moaned while he was stretching you. Ramsay didn't wait until you adjusted to his girth and he began to thrust brutally in and out of you. At first it was painful, tear kept running through your face but after a few minutes - though they felt like an eternity then - of his ruthless pace, you got used to the feeling and the intensity of the feeling even started bringing you kind of pleasure.

But before you got even close to cumming, Ramsay gasped and you felt his hot semen flooding your insides. He pulled out and stood up, grabbing your arm. If not his strong grip, you wouldn't be able to stand straight on your legs. Ramsay pulled you on the bed. He rested his head on a pillow and pressed your body to his. His hands kept groping your body as he looked at you with mix of hunger and admiration.

#ramsay snow x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #asoiaf imagine #got imagine #bolton imagines

[underburningstars]

darlin, i'm falling 31

for @jegulus-microfic prompt takeout, wc 1025, violence, death, mcd, suicide

James is ordered to takeout anyone who gets in his way or tries to cause problems during the raid. So that’s what he does. He is under a disillusionment charm that only affects Sirius, Remus, and Regulus. The rest of the gang members can see his betrayal in plain sight. 

And they’re angry with him. They attack and hurt him more and try their best to kill him. It’s painful. Because only a day ago, they were family.

James kills them all and does his best not to feel anything. He’ll have time for breakdowns later. One fight is particularly rough. James knows her. Her name is Jennifer. She had invited them all to her house once. James had played Mario Kart with her kids. He had laughed with her husband. 

She had told him that he reminded her of her brother, who had passed away a long time ago. 

It feels like losing a limb, killing her. He thinks of the kids who don’t have a mother anymore. A husband who has lost the love of his life. Suddenly, his wand flies out of hand, and he turns around to see who took it.

He immediately freezes. 

Regulus is standing there, looking at James like he hasn’t seen anything more horrifying in his life. James realises with a rush of dread that the disillusionment charm must've fallen during the fight. None of them say anything for the longest time. 

Then, Regulus whispers, in a broken voice, “You used me.”

James feels his soul quiver. It hurts. The helplessness in Regulus’ voice, the pain in his eyes, the tremble in his hands. Everything hurts. James knows there is no point in lying. That’ll only make things worse.

“Yes,” He says, as softly as he can. Regulus’ expression crumples even more, if that’s possible, and James panics. He tries to think of ways to make it better somehow, his alarmed mind not understanding that he can’t, “I’m sorry. Please, I’m an asshole and–and an idiot, but–but I won’t do it again. Reg…Reg, please, I love you,” James takes a step towards Regulus, but he flinches so violently that James doesn’t dare move another muscle. His eyes well up, and he bites his lips against a whimper. 

Regulus has wonderful eyes, grey with hints of green in them. They’re beautiful, like the rest of him, and James loves them, like he loves everything about him. Right now, James is seeing all light vanish from those eyes. It scares him, reminds him of the time when he first met Regulus, and he was someone who didn’t smile much, who wasn't happy and who didn’t see the joy in being alive.

“Reg…” James mumbles. His whole body is trembling. He’s scared. Something terrible is about to happen, and he’s so, so scared. 

Regulus’ fingers tighten around the wand in his hands, and James’ stomach twists sharply. Before he can even think of something to say or do, Regulus lifts his wand. He doesn’t hex James. He knew he wouldn’t. James tenses. He reaches out to Regulus, though it’s late. He messed up. God, he messed up so badly. 

Instead, he points the wand at himself, and the green light of the damned spell is spilling out of it. James runs to Regulus even though he knows that it’s futile. 

James holds Regulus’ limp body before he crumples to the ground. He kneels down on the floor with shaky limbs and just…looks at Regulus. 

James can’t breathe. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t do anything. Regulus’ body is still warm under his hands. So maybe…maybe–just, he could—

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The first sob wrecks out of him. And then James can’t stop at all. He looks down at Regulus, at his pale cheeks, chapped lips, closed eyes, dark curls. He’s beautiful. Even in death, he’s beautiful. James leans his forehead against Regulus’. His skin is turning cold and James clutches at him tighter. He can’t let Regulus go. Please, not him. Anything but him. 

James brings Regulus’ head to the crook of his neck and rocks their boy gently. He never thought about it. Losing Regulus. Even when everything was falling apart and James was torn about what to do, he didn’t think he would lose Regulus. 

The worst he could think of was Regulus hating him. But he will take Regulus hating him over this any day.

James buries his face in Regulus’ hair and doesn’t care about the sound of his wails. He can’t bring himself to care about being too loud and someone finding them like this. It hurts so much that James thinks that he’s dying. But he’s not. Because dying would feel better than what holding Regulus’ dead body feels like. 

He hears rushed footsteps coming towards the room. By now, he’s sure everyone knows that he’s the traitor. He should run. Hide. but he can’t let go of Regulus. 

Then the footsteps stop right outside the room. He reluctantly lifts his head. Sirius is standing there. His eyes fixed on Regulus, expression crestfallen. Then he looks at James and thinks of explaining himself. Of telling Sirius that he didn’t, that he could never, in a million years, hurt Regulus. 

He doesn’t need to. Sirius sees him and knows. His pained eyes harden and he looks at James with such vicious hatred that James thinks that he might kill him. And James…he is relieved. Because death is easier. Death is much better than to continue living and death means being near Regulus again. 

But Sirius doesn’t even lift his wand. Rather, he says, “You’re gonna live,” James shakes his head with a cry. “No, you don’t get to get out of this. You’re gonna live with his death and you’re gonna carry it with you for the rest of your existence.” Sirius is crying too. Tears fall from his eyes, his body is shaking and he’s breathing too fast. He walks up to them and kneels. He whispers, in an empty voice, “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to him.”

And James knows.

He knows, he knows, he knows. 

previous work

taglist: @yourgalgremlin @kit-kat744 @heartsoncover @the-original-lore (send me an ask to be added)

#regulus black #regulus arcturus black #james potter #james fleamont potter #james x regulus #jegulus #marauders #the marauders #eddie's microfics

[ash5monster01]

Ashley my love. I recently reread your masterlist, YOU ARE FANTASTIC. Just needed to shout that out =) I've got an idea for a story. Don't know if you like it but I give it a try, especially after discovering that Miles Teller is on your character List????? Omg yeah. Here it comes:

Miles and reader are best friends since for ever and always more than happy to film together. Her excitement is marred by a new regisseur who gives her instantly a bad feeling (guy is flirting with her, gives her creepy looks and stares whenever he gets the chance). The whole situation is getting worse when gets touchy and handsy and when he corners her when she's alone. The creep harasses her and even threatenes her that when she's not dating him or be more friendly to him he will end her career. Miles notices that there's a change in the behavior of his normally bubbly sunshine best friend. Got more details in my mind, but that doesn't mean that you have to use them in any way!!!!!! I imagine that Miles and her always sharing an apartment when they're together, so he notices her sleeping not well, hearing her having nightmares. But she always brushes him off. One day he finds her having a panic attack behind her trailer (the creep just touched her rough and claim her dating him)....yeah well I need some good angst, drama, some hurt and an protective Miles, a fluffy end mayhabs?!

Love ya girl, it would ne fantastic if you let me know if you like my idea

Not Yourself

Pairing: Miles Teller x FemReader

Warnings: 18+ due to heavier themes, mentions of SA, abuse, depression, language, control issues, gaslighting, fluff

Summary: Being best friends for a long time can be like wearing rose colored glasses, ignoring the fact that feelings can change, touches can become more, and love can evolve into an entirely different thing. Some people ignore these signs for their entire lives but when Miles notices you’re not the same bubbly girl anymore he discovers a sad truth and in the midst of it all he can’t deny how he feels about you any longer.

a/n: I've had this request for ages and I am so sorry, I am busy literally all of the time and try to keep up with my own series and requests all the time. plz enjoy now that it is finally here xx

word count: 3,038

Masterlist

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks since you stopped smiling as much, since you stopped looking him in the eye, since you stopped laughing at his jokes, since you stopped spending time with him, since you had a full night of sleep. He had heard you, crying, having nightmares, your sobs barely muffled by the door. He wished he could figure out when it all changed. Everything was fine. You both landed another project together, found a perfect apartment to use while filming, you had been so happy. It was the two of you against the world like always. Yet now it’s as if the sun didn’t shine and because of your broken smile the world couldn’t really thrive.

Being an actor in this industry was hard, you had heard the horror stories, yet you still took it on knowing you had your bestfriend by your side. From highschool plays until now you were continuing to face the craziness of this job head on. Luckily enough with him by your side, landing new projects together left and right. You figure you had gotten too comfortable, too blind with happiness to see the warning signs, too scared to say no when one of the producers had asked you on a date. You figured one date couldn't hurt, that you could just go and keep your job, make up an excuse to get out of a second date, but it was too late. You had let him in and now he held the power. He held more weight in the bustling world of show business and now his threats of debunking your career were enough to scare you silly.

It was supposed to be the fun part of the date, the walking you to the doorstep, pink cheeks hidden by the dark of the night and revealed in the glow of street lamps, a shy kiss shared under the porchlight. Instead it was a tight grip around your wrist, back pressed into the hard brick of the home, wide eyes, as he threatens to end your career if you don't date him. Then you finally realize all that flirting and staring he had done on set was more creepy and forceful than anything. Blood pulsing through your veins you agreed, a harsh and unwanted kiss forced upon your lips. You waited till he got in his car and left before breaking down in tears on the front steps. You had promised yourself you wouldn't be one of those Hollywood horror stories and yet here you were, blindsided, and completely alone. You couldn’t even tell Miles, the keeper to every secret and embarassing story in your life. Once you realized this you waited until the living room lights turned off before entering the home and hiding in your room so he couldn't see the heartbroken look on your face.

Now it had been three weeks of this torture. Unwarranted touching and kissing all over set and it was as if nobody noticed or they ignored it for their own benefit. That broke you more than anything. The only person to inquire about your change in demeanor your best friend Miles, but you denied him every time. Assuring him everything was okay even though it definitely wasn't. Your only safe place was your room at night, but the abuse had followed you into your dreams, nightmares startling you awake until you were too scared to fall sleep, tears taking place of sleep. So you learned to live with the pain, but the thing about holding everything in means it dulls the parts of you that shine brighter. It’s harder to smile when something so heavy sits on the weight of your shoulders. You just prayed nobody would really notice.

Opening your trailer door you were prepared to make it to set, thankful you were a good enough actor that your emotions hadn't tainted your performance. Least expected as always, the strong grip curled around your wrist, and practically tugged you off the trailer steps before pulling you around and out of sight of anyone passing by. Your heart instantly quickened and suddenly you were slammed against the cool metal of the trailer before his large hand wrapped around your ass. You let out a shaky breath due to the close proximity and he snarled in your face. Barring his teeth like a wild animal and you were instantly fear stricken, frozen in place, and prepared for more trauma to add to your plate. Another nightmare brewing just at the edge of your fingertips, not even your work place safe from the abuse.

"You look good today, just for me?" his hand squeezed tighter, heavy breaths landed on your face. Your stomach churned with disgust over his weird attraction towards you. "Bet you sat in that makeup chair, begging them to make you look good so I could have something to see"

His other hand finally let go of your wrist, wrapping around your neck, the coolness of his rings practically stinging you by the touch. You shuddered as his face closed in, warm mouth landing on your neck as he left wet kisses, devouring you like a meal in the worst way. You prayed it would be enough, that he would leave, but then his hand was gripping your chin, mouth landing againt your own, and tongue shoving inside your mouth despite how hard you tried to keep your lips closed. Tears burned at the back of your eyes but you knew not to let them fall, to not give him the satisfaction. After what felt like hours he finally let go, backing off with a sly smile on his face. Hiding your shuddering body he pointed in your direction.

"Keep that pretty little mouth shut" he sneered and then he was gone, leaving you behind the trailer in a broken heap, heart racing, and life ruined. Once you could no longer hear his footsteps you were on your knees, tears free falling as sobs raked your body. You couldn’t control it as the panic rushed through, anxiety closing your airways, as you tried to wrap your mind around what had just happened. Unexpected and harmful all the same. You were late for your scene, but as the panic attack set in you had no part of you that could care.

As for Miles he knew you'd never be late to a scene, you didn't want to be one of those dramatic Hollywood stars that let the fame get to your head. So when it had been ten minutes and you still weren't there the panic set in. He told the director he was off to find you and before he could protest Miles was out the door and running to your trailer. Without knocking he forced himself inside but you were not there, sighing he walked back out and that’s when he heard a cry. Just not any cry though, the same ones he had heard from your bedroom every night. Bending down he looked under the trailer to see you were behind it, a heap in the gravel as you cried your eyes out.

"Y/N!" he was around the trailer in a flash, dropping beside you as he cradled you in his arms. You cried against him, barely aware he was even there. He found tears seeping out of his own eyes as he tried to determine what was wrong with his best friend, his oldest friend, the girl he loved more than anything in the world.

"Miles" you finally cried, gripping onto him like he could disappear any second, and he found himself lifting his head, trying to calm his heart and he let it settle in that something was really really wrong.

"Y/N I want to help you but I need you to tell me what’s wrong" he finally said, pulling you close and rubbing a hand through your hair.

"I will, I promise, just not here. Please not hear, when we're home" you begged and he heard the desperation in your voice, the fear that strangled you from telling him the truth he needed three weeks ago.

"Okay, at home. You can tell me then, just please calm down" he cried and you nodded againt his chest, counting your breaths like you had practiced. He held you through it, silent as he allowed you support while you did what you needed to do. Finally you gave him a nod and he helped you to your feet. He wished you would tell the directors you were sick, that you’d do the scene tomorrow but he knew youd be mad that he suggested it so he walked you that direction anyway, wiping tears from his eyes and painting a fake smile on his face and he realized that's exactly what you had been doing the last three weeks.

After that you both had been jittery getting through the day. Finally the director called it and awkwardness enveloped you as you collected your things and headed towards Miles Bronco together. He did his best to keep silent as he drove you through the busy LA streets, driving towards the safe haven you both shared. Miles did his best to keep his mouth shut as he locked his car and unlocked the apartment door. You were very clealry distraught and he watched as you dumped your things on the kitchen counter, the weight of the world crushing you into the ground. So he moved towards the couch, very obviously leaving the seat open beside him for you to take and start explaining yourself. You knew not to fight it, you had made a promise, and you never broke a promise with Miles.

"I'm not taking anymore bullshit Y/N, I want the truth and all of it right now" he finally broke the silence as you took your seat beside him. Hugging a pillow to your chest, tears lined your eyes as you finally told him everything from the beginning. Miles did his best to not get angry and interrupt as you told your truth, the weight of the news much heavier than he expected.

"For three weeks, that's almost a whole month Y/N" guilt bloomed through your body and he pressed his head in his hands, trying to not let the anger consume him. Yet as he thought of how angry he was he was able to recognize the jealous pull. That some bastard got to kiss you without permission when he's been wanting to kiss you the way a real man should since college. He had never realized that he had hid that from himself all these years, denied himself of recognizing his attraction towards you. Stopped himself from loving you, and maybe if he didn't do that this would've never happened.

"I was scared he would hurt me, we were always alone" you told him, wanting him to know that you wanted him to know but sometimes fear controlled you in ways you couldn't explain.

"I was right inside that first night, I could've come out and stopped him" Miles argued and that’s when it hit him. The front porch, the doorbell, his phone. His eyes widened and you watched as his thoughts danced across his face.

"What is it?" you asked and without answering he rushed to his room, plugging in his phone as he opened the app that could hold the key to everything.

"Don't worry Y/N, I got a plan" sighing you let him hide out, making yourself some dinner. and trying to go to sleep despite knowing a nightmare would awake you soon. Yet when you woke up Miles was snoring softly beside you in your bed. A wave of calm rushed over you and you scooted closer before falling alseep again, the first real rest you had gotten in a long time.

When you woke up to your alarm he was no longer there, his car not even in the driveway. You figured he had early scenes and you had forgot. So you got ready, tried to slow your heart as you made your way to set, trying to prepare yourself for another day of torture. Yet before you could be called to set a knock sounded at your door, a worker telling you that you were needed in the table read room, a meeting with the show runners. Realizing that you were more than likely going to be fired you allowed a few tears to fall as you made your way in that direction. Your situation did not look good as you spotted the director, all the producers including your own abuser, and Miles all sat around the table.

"We're glad you could join us Y/N, have a seat" the director told you and you nodded, scurrying to the open seat beside Bradley.

"Usually we don't call meetings until production time John, what is it" one of the producers asked the director and John gave you a soft smile.

"Miles came forward to me today with some information I think we can't ignore" he finally said and your heart doubled in speed as you realized what he had done, started a battle you would never win without any evidence. "Mr. Conway here has been harrassing Y/N for the last three weeks, threatening to debunk her career if she told anyone"

"Oh this is bullshit and you know it" Conway said, but everyone clear as day could see the fear across his face.

"Miles has also provided evidence" John said before clicking the screen, ring doorbell footage of the first night appearing on screen. Miles hand wrapped around your own, knowing this would be tough to watch. It was hard for him to watch himself, crying the moment he realized you sat outside in tears waiting for him to go to bed.

The group watched as you and Conway approached the door holding hands, they all watched as his smile turned into a growl as he shoved you against the wall, fear clear as day on your face and he got so close you were breathing each others air. "If you don't agree to dating me I will proceed to make your life a living hell, you'll never be hired ever again, people will think of how trrible you are, your fans will hate you, after tonight your mine and if you tell absolutely anybody it’s game over, you'll never amount to anything ever again"

Then they all watched as you frantically nodded and he forced himself on you, you clearly trying to push him away. Then they watched him harshly release you, walk to his car, as you clearly sobbed on the front porch. John ending the video before they could see anymore, you clearly distraught from reliving that moment.

"We're going to allow Y/N to decide if she wants to press charges and I am fully prepared to pause production if you aren't willing to immediately terminate him" John informed them and you felt your heart warm over at the thought of him protecting you.

"We understand completely, Conway you’re fired. Have your things packed by the end of the day and be expecting a court order coming your way" relief washed over you completely as Conway sat there, shock all over him. Miles pulled you into a hug, Conway leaving the room with profanities falling from his mouth.

"We're sorry for this Y/N, if you need anything at all we're here for you. We will also testify in court if you choose to go in that direction" you nodded as they also got up and left the room. John placed a comforting hand on your back before leaving as well, a true hero in this situation.

"I can't believe you came forward for me" you told Miles, still hugging him like your life depended on it.

"I had too, your my bestfriend. I love you, I have always loved you" Miles told you, pushing some hair out of your face. Losing you was never an option.

"What if your plan didn't work?" you asked and he shrugged.

"Then I was quitting the movie" he told you earnestly and you smiled, pulling him tighter into your hug.

"I love you Miles" you told him and he smiled before pulling back a little.

"I know this probably isn't the right time but after all this I figure you deserve to know that I'm in love with you Y/N. I love you in that more than best friend way and after this whole disaster you deserve to know that beause you deserve to be loved the right way" for a moment you were shocked, allowing his words to sink in because there was a moment you considered you and Miles. You just figured he'd never feel the same so you brushed it off, ignoring it for the sake of your friendship.

“Are you sure?” Miles hoped that this doubt wasn’t a symptom of the last few weeks of abuse.

“Positive Y/N, it took a lot of self control to not kill that asshole” you found yourself giggling through tears, a wide smile on your face for the first time in a month.

“I love you in a more than a best friend way too Miles” you grinned at him and he smiled arms pulling you close again.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, wanting to make sure it was okay since that asshole never did.

“Yes, please” and he didn’t need any more confirmation before his lips were on yours. Instead of holding your breath like you had been for the last three weeks you inhaled him, breathing his air like he just filled you with life after the past month of torture.

A kiss to redeem every bad one, a kiss to start the healing process, and start finding yourself again. Which you had a feeling would be better than ever considering you had finally allowed yourself to love Miles in a way you always wished you could. This time you didn’t have to look out for the warning signs because you had Miles to protect you, and look for them too.

#miles teller #miles teller imagines #miles teller imagine #miles teller x reader #miles teller x oc #miles teller x femreader #miles teller fic #miles teller fanfic #miles teller fanfiction #miles teller footloose #miles teller top gun #miles teller whiplash #top gun fanfiction #rooster imagine #rooster x oc #rooster top gun #rooster angst #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff