#* still got a long way to go = future volumes *
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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago
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I remember those lost in the dark The bullet or the blade that kept us apart But I’ve been moving on, can’t be still for long ‘Cause it’s the only way
Never ache for a place called home Can’t hold on so tight, gotta let it all go I have a purpose, it’s all that I need To help me find my way Every day
I fought a war and I learned how to win But how do you fight when the enemy’s within? Find your pride, go deeper inside For the fire that will light your way
The ones you trust can often betray You’re the hunter and then you’re the prey You pay the cost, it all feels lost Then you hear a voice inside you say:
Keep your eyes on the road ahead Don’t be drawn into the lie or the shadows in your head Keep your eyes on the road ahead And don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back ‘Cause I got a feeling in my bones that the future's gonna be fine Yeah, don’t ever look back Don’t hold on to the past
A lot of road now behind me Every cut, every bruise, they tell their own story Whatever's up ahead, around the next bend I know I will survive I've learned how to live with regret I can forgive, but how could I forget The things I've learned, the strength that I've earned I have it all by my side, as I ride
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nerdy-novelist017 · 9 months ago
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Perfect (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader pt 7)
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The chapter we've all been waiting forrrr! 🤗 I won't lie to you, I'm slightly terrified to post this chapter, but you all are so kind. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be! 🫶
Benny X Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 3.8k (woah, got a little carried away)
Summary- You've lived your whole life according to what everyone else wanted you to be. Tonight would be the first night of your new life -- one where you decided who you were.
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You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments in an attempt to calm your quickened pulse. You had spent the whole rest of the day yesterday thinking about nothing but your future. What was set in stone and what was up to you. You knew what you didn’t want, that much was clear to you now. But could it be possible to have what you wanted when you weren’t even sure if that was what you were?
By the time you had dressed and made your way downstairs for breakfast, you felt as though you were being torn in two. One side was what your head told you to do, the more sensical side. And the other was what your heart wanted to do, the more exciting side. You entered the kitchen where your mother stood at the stove, her hair still in rollers and an apron tied around her waist as she prepared breakfast. 
“Morning, Mama,” you greeted quietly as you approached her to help. Cooking breakfast was your usual routine with your mother, a time spent with secretive giggles and never-ending stories. It was a time where the two of you would be uninterrupted, consumed by only each other in your own world. A place where you would complain to her about your boy troubles at school or how the popular girls were mean to you that day. And as you grew older, and things like high school drama no longer seemed to matter, it became a place where you could talk to her about her life. Where she would tell you how to be mindful of the world around you as she taught you to make poached eggs. A place where she had mentioned numerous times how happy she was because of her family, because of you.  A safe place – home. 
“Morning, honey,” she replied as she shot you her usual cheerful smile. “Coffee’s on the table.”
You thanked her as you poured yourself a cup. You put your apron on and began to help with the homemade pancake batter. You were so lost in the endless sea of thoughts that when your mother mentioned a familiar name, you nearly spilled the bowl of batter. 
“What?” you asked as you looked over at her. 
“I said Pete came by, asking for you,” she repeated as she did a double take at your crestfallen expression. 
“He did?” you inquired in a small voice. “Did he . . . say anything?”
“He asked if he could speak with you. He seemed real insistent,” she laughed. “I had to tell him you were in the shower to finally get him to leave.”
At your silence, she continued hesitantly, “How did your date go?”
You sighed, “It was . . . okay.”
“He seems like a real nice guy.” 
You nodded weakly, feeling oddly reluctant to tell her what had happened at the golf course, the anger in his eyes, the sudden volume in his voice as he slammed his hands against the car.
She lowered the spatula she was using to stir the scrambled eggs, and she turned to face you fully. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” 
You nodded again but when you glanced up at her, you could see the disbelief in her eyes. You could fool a lot of people, but your mother was never one of them. 
“What’s going on?” she prodded in that controlled mix of gentle firmness that only mothers can conjure. You were silent for several long beats, unsure of how to vocalize your feelings. 
“I don’t think I want to go out with Pete anymore, Mama,” You admitted softly and being able to speak those words aloud for the first time felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off your shoulders so you go on, “I don’t like the way he treats me compared to others. I can’t see myself being married to him.”
She fell quiet for a few agonizing moments, and you worry that you might have said too much. You avoided her gaze, looking down at the raw batter in front of you as you tried to figure out how you can fix what you’ve just said. 
But then, “Is there someone else you met?”
You looked back at her face, your heart sinking at the sight of her serious, unreadable expression and your mouth suddenly felt too dry to speak. You only nodded. 
She looked down at her pan of eggs for a moment. “Was it that blonde boy? The one with the motorcycle?”
Your mouth fell open in shock. “How–?”
“I saw him drop you off last night,” she explained. “I was reading in my bedroom when I heard the engine pull up. And when I looked out the window, I saw the two of you standing there.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that Benny was not a secret of yours anymore. He was living in your reality now, a figure to receive the scutanty of your parents, of your neighbors, of your family. The thought left a pit to form in your gut. 
“Your father will never approve of that, (Y/N),” she said, firmly shooting down your outlandish hopes. “You know that.”
“I know. I just . . . ” you trail off with a sigh as you sink into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Mama. He’s fun and exciting. He just seems to understand me so perfectly. And the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel about myself . . .”
Your mother abandoned her position at the stove to sit in the chair beside you. “That isn’t a practical choice, honey. It’s not going to guarantee you any stability for your future. I want you to have a good life, to live in a good house with a husband that has a good job. He isn’t that and who knows if he will ever be able to provide you with those things.”
You swallowed the painful lump forming in the back of your throat as you looked down at your lap, knowing that she’s right. 
Her hand slid across the table to grab yours tightly. “But I also saw the look on his face as he watched you walk up to the house. That look of pure devotion and love.” There were tears shining in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “And I realized I have never seen your father look at me the way that boy looked at you.” 
Your heart shattered at her admission, and you squeezed her hand tightly, stunned into silence. 
“All I want in life is for you to be happy. That’s all I want. Every time I see a shooting star or blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I make a wish for you to live a happy life.” She swallowed thickly as her eyes fluttered over your features. “I understand that your happiness might not look the same as mine, and that’s okay. Your father won’t approve of this, and you know how he gets. But I will always support you – always.”
“Oh, Mama,” your voice cracked as you stood quickly to wrap your mother in a tight hug. 
As you stood in the embrace of your mother’s arms, you realized it had been a long time since you had been consoled like this by her. And in this moment, you felt like a little girl again, still in need of your mother’s infinitely understanding advice and kind hugs. Muffled by her sweater, you whispered, “You make me happy, Mama.” 
“You make me happy too, my girl,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back eventually, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you to choose the thing that will bring you happiness.”
You nodded and she reached out to wipe the tears that had fallen down your cheeks as she said, “Now, help me finish breakfast before those eggs start to burn.”
“Yes, Mama,” you laughed, sniffing as you watched her move back to the stove, noticing the undeniable actions of her swiping at her own tears as she did. 
And now you stand, at the threshold of someplace you’d never expected to be, you’re nervous, but sure of yourself. Thunder rolled through the sky as a storm brewed in the distance, and you almost laughed at the realization that you had successfully outran the storm, a strangely comforting irony. Releasing your breath, you push open the door before you could give it another thought. 
The inside of the Vandals clubhouse is bustling with people, more than you had ever seen in one small place. Cigarette smoke filtered through the air, covering the environment in a haze. Loud voices, glass clinking, cue balls clacking against the pool tables all mix together with the music playing from the jukebox in the back. Overwhelmed, you stand in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning through the sea of bodies covered in the infamous Vandals colors. After a moment of hesitation and a brief thought of turning around and going back out the door you came in, you pushed on, sliding into the room like a boat into a river. Weaving your way through the packed bar, you passed a few tables where someone bumped into you as they stood from their seat. You apologized and tried to move by, but the unfamiliar man reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“Where are you off to, pretty little thing?” he asked, his voice slurring as he tried to grin at you but he must have been seeing double because his eyesight was staring at the spot over your right shoulder. Before you could respond, someone else from the table spoke up, his voice barely heard over the noise of the bar.
“Hey, I know you,” he said, his dark slicked back hair and clean shaven face familiar, but you couldn’t place his name. “You’re Benny’s girl.”
You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and you shrunk into yourself a bit, losing a bit of your already wavering confidence.
“It’s Wahoo,” he clarified as he too stood from his seat, moving to grab his drunk friend and pull him away from you. “Don’t let him bother you, he didn’t know who you were, was all.”
You nodded, grateful for his help. “Is Benny here?”
“Yeah, ’was over by the pool table in the back last I saw,” Wahoo responded as he pointed in the general direction. 
You tried to steady your pounding heart as you made your way to the back of the bar. Brushing into a temporarily clear path, that’s when your eyes found his tall, lean figure, that dirty blonde hair and wicked grin. Your steps faltered a bit. He hadn’t seen you yet, you could still turn around and go back to your ordinary life. But that wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were scared, but you were here anyway. You approached the table where you saw other faces you recognized (Johnny, Brucie, Gail, Zipco and a few others whose names you hadn’t committed to memory yet) but none of them were your primary focus. 
Gail was the first to notice you nearing, and she elbowed her husband to get his attention as she said something you couldn’t quite detect in the loudness of the bar. But her commotion with Brucie garnered Johnny’s interest as he two turned to look at you, a smile breaking out across his face. Benny turned from his sidestance, his eyes scanning over the crowd in an attempt to see what was so important to distract the players while the game continued. His eyes roved over your face for a fleeting second, continuing on before jumping back to you in a flustered doubletake. 
Then suddenly, you were on the other end of the pool table, directly across from Benny who looked at you as though you were an apparition. You leaned your hands to rest against the pool table, trying to look more confident than you were as you felt the eyes of every person near the pool table on you. 
“Bunny?” Benny asked, almost speechless as he handed his pool stick off to Zipco. He rounded the table to be closer to you as he continued. “What–what are you doin’ here?” 
“I came to speak with you,” you respond, eyes glancing at the others around the table before landing on him again. “To ask you something.”
He got the hint loud and clear. “C’mon,” he said as he grabbed your hand in his own and pulled you through the room to the backdoor where he pushed it open and motioned for you to go first. 
It had already begun to rain lightly, tiny droplets hitting the concrete with a gentle pitter patter. The coolness of the outside air surrounded you in a pleasant way compared to the atmosphere inside. There were a few bikers out back smoking and talking, but Benny didn’t seem to mind their presence as he led you down the way, keeping under the dry safety of the overhang. 
“Is it always that busy?” you ask when you both stopped. With your back against the brick wall and Benny standing just in front of you, the overhang didn’t offer much room from the rain. But that didn’t seem to bother him either as his eyes were locked onto you despite the roof runoff hitting his jacket. 
“No.” He shook his head. “There was a convention in town today and most of those guys in there are from Columbus. I’m sure that’s pretty overwhelming for you.” 
Your heart fluttered at his gentle squeeze of your hand and you were acutely aware that he hadn’t let you go since pulling you along out here. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Did you walk here?” he asked, and thunder rumbled somewhere behind him.
“No, I rode my bicycle,” you replied. “Bike, I should say, makes me sound cool like you guys.”
“You’re way cooler than me, Bunny,” he said, his voice low as he wore a lopsided smile.
You couldn’t help but mirror his expression as you looked up at him, realizing just how close the two of you were. The scent of his cologne tickled your nose in a way that sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was almost unfair, you realized, that he was so effortlessly attractive – he looked good, he sounded good, he smelled good – and you don’t think he even knew the effect he had on you. And he had the audacity to look at you like you were the gem. 
“What?” he asked after your beat of silence, his eyes flickering to your lips.
“Nothing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you blurted out the question that had been burning inside you the entire ride here. “Do you want to go to California with me?”
“Right now?” 
“No.” You tried to cover your giggle. “I mean, some day. I do want to go. Remember when we talked about it?”
“I remember.”
Benny’s unwavering gaze caused your heart rate to speed up but you trudged on, “I’ve always thought it wasn’t a practical dream, that somehow it couldn’t be me who walked down the beach because I'd been too busy with school and then school became work and work would become marriage and keeping house.” Your carefully rehearsed speech began to fragment as you spilled your jumbled thoughts. “But I realized that is so silly because it’s my life, and I–I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And I want to go to California to see the Pacific Ocean, and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.  So . . . what do you say?”
He stepped closer to you, his face just inches from yours, his voice incredibly gentle as he said, “I think I'd go just about anywhere you asked me to, Bunny. But are you sure it’s me who you’re wantin’ here?”
Your brow furrowed slightly at his response. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m not the kind of guy girls like you fall for. I’m the exact opposite.” His free hand reached out and brushed a tendril of your hair behind your ear as his voice dropped an octave. “But when I'm with you . . . I feel like I could do better. Like maybe I could be better. Not perfect, but something closer to worthy.”
“I’ve been perfect my whole life. Perfect grades, perfect smile, a perfectly quiet doll on the shelf.” You look at the biker standing before you. The exact opposite of what you’ve been surrounded by your entire life. The exact person you’ve been told to stay away from. But there were things that you noticed about him now that you hadn’t when you first saw him at the picnic. Those hands, calloused and scarred from years of fighting, were holding your own gently as if you were made of glass. That mouth, capable of verbally hurting just about anyone who got in his way, only ever spoke softly to you. Those eyes which have undoubtedly seen their fair share of the worst of humanity, gaze at you as if you were the moon. This man, the excitement you feel you’ve been unknowingly waiting for your whole life. You stepped closer to him, your noses brushing together softly as you whispered, “I don’t think I want perfect anymore.”
“What do you want, Bunny?” he asked, an unmistakable vulnerability in his raw voice. 
Your answer to him in nonverbal as you closed the gap between you, lips pressing against his softly. The world seemed to pause as you gently kissed Benny, your heart pounding in your chest. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as you both seemed to test the waters of something new and uncharted. Overcome by your overthinking, you began to draw back, but Benny’s palm cupped the side of your face, pulling you back to him with a more meaningful kiss. His lips were warm and rough, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand held yours early as he deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency that sent a wave of heat to fill your core. His hand moved to protect the back of your head as he backed you up to the cool brick of the wall behind you. 
Benny’s mind was racing with a whirlwind of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance, to remind himself that a girl like you would never be with a man like him. He had hoped, prayed, that you might return even an ounce of his feelings for you, but he had to be realistic. You were a beautiful dream, so far out of his reach. But now with your lips on his, your fragile hands clutching the fabric of his jacket, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. You were breaking down every wall he had built, showing him that just maybe, he was worth more than he believed. 
He had never kissed anyone like this before – with a mix of tenderness and passion that made his heart ache in a way that both terrified and galvanized him. He moved his hand down your side, gripping your hip tightly. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want this moment to end. Because in this kiss, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.
He’d spent so long believing he wasn’t good enough– that his life was too rough, too messy for someone like you. But in this moment, as your breath mingled with his own and your heartbeat racing against his chest, he started to believe, even just a little, that he could be the man you saw in him. That he could be worthy of this, of you. 
Your lips parted slightly, and Benny took the invitation, kissing you with a newfound fervor, pouring all his sentiments into it – the longing, the fear, the hope. The connection between you felt electric, and for the first time in a long time, Benny didn’t feel lost. He felt found. Found by you, found by this moment. 
This is real, he thought almost in disbelief, She chose me. He could hardly comprehend it, but the evidence was right there in the way that you kissed him back with equal intensity, the way you clung to him as if he was the only thing grounding you. His lungs burned and he had to pull back, but he kept his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek. I don’t deserve her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but for the first time, another voice – a stronger one– countered, Maybe I could someday. 
He opened his eyes, seeing the softness in your gaze, the way your parted lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. It hit him then, like a bolt of lightning. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you. Because you deserved more than just a rough-edged biker, you deserved the world. And if you’d let him, Benny was determined to give it to you. 
“Was–was that okay?” you asked breathlessly, unsure if you’d done it right, but hoping he had felt what you couldn’t put into words. 
His eyes softened even more as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It was more than okay, Bunny.”
Your smile grew, a little more confident now, despite the heat tinging your cheeks. Suddenly the backdoor squeaked open and Brucie poked his head out the doorway. 
“Benny, you’re up to shoot, kid,” he said and must have seen the closeness of your bodies, the way Benny still held onto your waist because he smirked smugly. 
Benny didn’t even glance over. “Tell ‘em to hold my spot.”
“Pool?” you asked, tugging on his jacket lightly as Brucie disappeared back inside. 
Benny nodded, grinning lazily down at you. “Yeah, you ever played?”
You shook your head, feeling a little shy. “No, never. But . . . I’d like to try.”
He raised his eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You want me to teach you?”
You nodded, this time with more certainty. “I think I’d like that.”
He took your hand, leading you back inside as the rain continued to pour around you. As he lead you back into the bar, the noise and constant chatter engulfing you once again, you felt reassured by the steady warmth of his hand in yours. And he didn't let go of your hand even when you got to the table. A few members cheered and teased Benny, but he only smiled and shook his head, his focus on you, instead. He stood behind you, positioning you gently. 
“Here’s the thing,” he murmured, his voice low and just for you. “You don’t have to know everything right away. Sometimes it’s about the journey, not just the win.”
You looked over your shoulder with a small smile, your faces only inches apart. “I think I’m ready for the journey.”
Benny’s gaze gentled. “So am I, Bunny. So am I.”
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seraphinitegames · 6 months ago
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Hello! I've got a question about Rebecca I've been dying to ask for ages! I've thought about this on and off for a long time while playing through the books, especially when deciding how my MC should feel towards their relationship. Did Rebecca purposefully drown herself in her career to avoid being a mother to the detective (choose to neglect the MC), or was Rebecca really unable to escape work? (Sorry this is long, I've had lots of thoughts brewing) The first seems the obvious answer to me. Considering that the MC is at least in their mid 20s, it's been over twenty years since Rook's death. And it is clear in the books that to this day just the mention of Rook weakens her to her knees. It seems to me that his death was so overwhelming, she didn't have the energy to be a mother to the MC, and overworked herself to avoid processing and thinking about her pain, abandoning her child (to a nanny)... and then did that into the MC's adulthood. It was stated sometime in the books, maybe book two or three I don't remember, that working with Unit Bravo, and simultaneously Rebecca, has been the most time the detective has ever spent with their mother. And that speaks volumes! Now, it was never mentioned that Rebecca was forced to be a handler and work away from home all the time. She had the power to step down from the council. So, she could have chosen some sort of stable job within the agency that allowed her to still be an active mother. But she didn't. She didn't even take a single holiday off to spend time with the MC (mentioned in the holiday book) and left them to the neighbors for Christmas! And this fact hasn't been mentioned explicitly, which is why I wonder. (Excluding the holiday book stuff obvi since its not in the main canon technically) The MC can express being upset because Rebecca was absent many times, but the main issue the story focused on, at least in book one (which makes sense for that point of the story) was how the MC felt about Rebecca lying to them about the nature of her job. Which I feel is a reasonable lie. I feel my MC would care more about why she was absent rather than that she kept her career a secret, though. Or, to make myself more clear, I feel the issue of Rebecca keeping secrets and lying about her career was discussed more in depth in the books rather than why Rebecca was absent, and whether it was a choice, and I wish I could express that in the story and be angry about it. And have Rebecca own up to it and apologize for being absent. But maybe we'll get to that later in the story, idk. If this is the exact reason for Rebecca's absence, that is. Thanks for listening to my ted talk. And for your response, if you end up doing so. And thank you so much for writing the Wayhaven Chronicles! I've enjoyed it so much, and I look forward to book 4 and the following future books! (I wanna marry Morgan so bad T_T)
This is such a good question, as well as reasonings!
You've actually hit it all on the head pretty perfectly! :D
Rebecca's reason for being absent is grief, for sure, and this is coming into play in a MAJOR way sooner than you might expect, and something you can tackle.
Rebecca would prefer the focus on the MC's upset or annoyance (if their is any for the MC, depending on how you're playing them) than on the fact that she lied to them about the Agency than even touch on the reason for why she threw herself into her work. But that can't last…
I hope this makes sense, but it certainly will as we go deeper into the books!
Thank you so much for the ask and the amazing message! <3
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lovemomhatepolice · 7 months ago
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jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 2) (minors DNI!)
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N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Oh, Jude is just an innocent kid. He will never ever consent to anal. Whether it's toward you or him - nothing turns him down more. I'm not going to lie - when he hears about it he has to restrain himself so he doesn't have a gag reflex. He himself doesn't know why it affects him so much, but he can't bring himself to think about it - doing it isn't even an option
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He never said it directly, but the sight of you getting down on your knees and taking care of him, oh god. The boy could have come right on the spot if he had even a little less stamina. Fortunately, he doesn't and you can relish it a little longer. Well, I beg you, the sight of such a boy in front of you - and still yours? It couldn't have been better.
And as for giving from yourself - as I mentioned earlier, Jude with you was just learning to know another person's body, but damn how he did it quickly. He paid attention to everything you like and each time it got better and better
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) It depends, to be honest. He rarely exceeds the pace that is right for you - well, unless he is after an unsuccessful match and you yourself give him tips to speed up and be rougher. (But I just have to admit that he loves it when you wriggle under him when he's a little harsher).
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He likes quick rounds-especially before a game, once you're both settled and about to leave the house (He says it brings him luck). Or when you come to visit him at the Bernabeu stadium and he can take you to his bathroom. With the rest of the quickies, they're pretty fun, aren't they? Sometimes something might fall next to you and hit someone in the head…. oh, poor Jude
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Rather, he is trying not to skip security, after all, both of you have only recently turned 20. In the future, of course, he dreams of having a family with you, but not yet. But when it comes to risking the place, oh yes. Sex in the locker room at the Santiago Bernabeau, on your “private beach” in a tent. Wherever you want - he will be there anyway
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Jude is young, oh he has in him strength and desire a lot. In fact, you only finish when you want to or when you have to. He could never interrupt and still be inside you. After all, this is his favorite place
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Oh, he once got such an inflatable doll from friends, but he does not use it. He was a little frightened by the thought of satisfying himself with an inflatable woman, so he “left” it accidentally in the toilet after that party
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Jude doesn't like teasing you. With you, it's the other way around - you can't help but play with him a little. Especially when it comes to blowjob - you love to slowly lick him, suck him, until he himself doesn't lift his hips up and slap you on the back of the throat, signaling that he's already had enough of your teasing
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Jude Bellingham is a man of groans. When you give him a blowjob, when you lean dangerously close in a short dress, when he's deep inside you. He just doesn't hold back, and knowing that it turns you on, he still allows himself to make louder sounds
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He loves to make love to you while you are wearing his match shirt. Whether it was his Dortmund jersey, his national team jersey or his current Madrid jersey, when Jude sees you in any of his jerseys, he even cries out for vengeance to heaven. He loves the sight of you with his name on the back and only waits for it to be your name too
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He is huge. Oh let's not lie to ourselves, everyone has seen these pictures from the field and knows that Jude has a lot to boast about. I don't know what more can be said, but you have to trust that he barely fits in you
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) He doesn't need much, sometimes he's like an excited teenager, although of course he approaches it with great respect for you. If you don't feel like it, he doesn't insist one bit. But it really doesn't take much for him, you just need to look at him “differently” and he's ready
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Because of what emotions your sex triggers in him, I don't think he falls asleep quickly. Of course, he is exhausted and his eyes close, but he tries to lie down and talk with you as long as possible. He falls asleep best when you play with his hair or run your hands over his chest. Then it's not hard for him to fall asleep, but he definitely tries to make sure that you fall asleep too, and he doesn't have to have in the back of his mind that he did something wrong by falling asleep
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A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)
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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year ago
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How would the Bad sanses feel about kids?
Horror isn't a fan of how children have a habit of immediately bursting into terrified tears when they look at him. Kinda rude. He copes by deliberately scaring them; if a kid looks at him he pulls his scariest face. Might even say "boo" just for effect. Deep down, though, he does like kids - before it all went wrong in the Underground he used to dream about being an uncle to Papyrus' future children. When he's around you, he catches himself thinking about it... his own kids would like his face just the way it was, wouldn't they? So long as he was a good dad, it wouldn't matter what he looked like. That sounds so wonderful.
If he somehow finds a kid who isn't frightened of him, he will go full papa bear mode. Horror's the most likely of the bad guys to find a lost child and scoop them up.
Dust... avoids children like the plague. He shares Horror's habit of deliberately scaring them. He has a lot of reasons. He's a dangerous mass murderer, that's one; he also doesn't do great with noise. The sound of a crying or shouting child grates at him like nails on a chalkboard. Not to mention the fact that he's had enough of dealing with childish behaviour after a few hours around Killer.
... He also doesn't like being reminded of all the kids that used to live in his Underground. He doesn't like looking at little faces and remembering how Papyrus used to smile at him, the big brother who was supposed to keep him safe, the exact same way. The thing about having high LV is you get very used to being numb... those stabs of emotion, when they do get through, are too much.
He likes seeing you interact with kids, though. You're much better than he is, softer and kinder. Makes him think about what could've been.
Killer is great with kids. He's exciting, he's funny, he's got endless energy. He perfectly channels the 'fun uncle who clearly wants kids and would be an amazing dad', and the presence of children grounds him, taking the edge off of his worse traits and continuously pulling him down to reality. But he's also a terrible influence when left unattended. Give him an hour, and he'll be showing them how to properly hold a knife, telling them how crime isn't really that bad, and that they should totally just bite their bully as hard as they possibly can.
If a child lets him pick them up, Killer will constantly be trying to catch your eye. His huge grin speaks volumes; so when are WE gonna make our own one of these?
Nightmare says he doesn't like children. He definitely acts like it, too, he's cold and intimidating. But deep down, he's always wanted kids of his own - and he's bitter, because before he was corrupted he used to be really good with kids. Dream was (and still is) better at entertaining children but Nightmare could comfort the introverts; shy kids who cried around Dream would happily fall asleep on Nightmare's shoulder. Not anymore.
The thing is... when kids are around him for a while, you'll start to see hints of something underneath the grump. You'll notice he never raises his voice. You'll hear how his tone slips into something stern, yet calm. You'll see the 'strict but fair' edge to his sockets and mouth, you'll notice how despite all the talk of not caring his tentacles will ALWAYS catch anyone whose tiny feet are unsteady. There's a dad under there.
He's in no place for kids right now. But he does think about it - when you're around he thinks far more than he'd ever admit. He imagines giving someone the childhood he never had. If only.
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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 year ago
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Not That Kind of Guy
Part Five: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series
Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, arm/hand kink, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, suicide/death metaphor[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]
Info: Anakin is and always will be the most romantic man to exist, that is all. Psycho!Stalker!Ani loves counting idk he just does & I know it.[diary entries from Ani] [texts from Luke] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+
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Diary Entry: July 8th
You’d better be glad I’m patient, or else you’d have another dead neighbor.
When I heard the *wwoop* of your phone sending out a text on my computer I didn’t check it immediately. Until I heard four *pings* in quick succession.
‘Lukey, call me.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m in class.’
‘10 mins’
‘Or emergency?’
Remember how I said I like Luke? I like him a little bit less. Who texts like that… just write a sentence like a normal person. One sentence.
‘emergency!!’
Emergency? The panic that flooded my veins was icy-hot as I frantically pulled up a the live feed of your home and blasted the volume.
Nothing.
You were just sitting on the couch snacking on those Extra Toasty Cheezits that you love so much. (Cheezits was a marketing genius for that though, profiting off burnt ones because little weirdos like you lived for that one random burnt piece at the bottom of the bag. Goofy girl.)
That doesn’t seem very ‘emergency!!’ to me. Unless you’ve run out of Cheezits, but you haven’t. I would know.
I chewed my nails, paced the floor, and wrung out my hands. I couldn’t just walk over there and say ‘Hey! Just wanted to make sure you’re okay cause I cloned your phone and saw a concerning text! How can I help?’.
You seemed fine, you weren’t crying, you didn’t look upset. You just started scrolling through Instagram reels and rapid-fire sending them to your sister as if she’d actually watch them all. We all know she won’t, but if you ask she’ll say she did.
‘step out. emergency!!’
‘no, give me 4. it can wait.’
Jesus Luke, are you trying to make me dislike you? I can’t believe you’d make her wait like that. The girl said it’s an emergency. That means pick up the fucking phone, dial her fucking number and say ‘I’m on my way, what’s going on?’
Drop everything and fucking run. I’d jump from a moving train if I got that text from you. Train station who? I have two legs and I can run pretty fast as long as I have the right motivation.
Pass a kid on a bike? ‘Scuse me I’m commandeering this vehicle.’ I’d be the fucking flash with pink tassels and purple glow wheels.
‘Now!!’
The suspense was literally killing me. I was withering away with worry.
‘if it’s the guy again I swear to god.’
Guy? What guy? What had I missed? There was a guy in your life that wasn’t me?
‘just fucking call me.’
Yeah, you heard the girl. Fucking call her already.
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“No he did not.” Luke scoffed, as if what you’d told him was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in ages.
“I swear. I swear he did!” You giggled folding over on the couch.
“There’s no way a straight man did that for you and didn’t try to fuck.” Luke laughed. “I don’t believe you. You’re delusional.”
“I am not!” You defended, not actually hurt by his comment but wanting to prove him wrong anyway.
“I literally don’t believe you.” He let out a snort and whispered something to Han on the other end of the line. “Han said he’s still set on Ben for you.”
“I told you I am not interested. There’s a reason I never texted him!” You retorted.
“Yeah because you lost his number you pea-brain.” He teased.
“No.” You said with a slightly haughty tone. “I happen to believe it was just the universe telling me it wasn’t meant to be.”
“That’s a really good justification for loosing his number.” Han’s voice came through the speaker slightly muffled from his distance.
“Shut up both of you. You’re horrible.” You laughed. “I’m sticking to it. The universe said no and I’m no match for the powers that be, m’kay?”
“Sure babes.” Luke said, you could almost hear his stupid little smirk.
“Anyway. Yes, look I’ll send you a picture of the book okay?” You hopped up quickly and snapped a picture to send to Luke’s phone. “Cause I can’t exactly send you a picture of him helping me with my groceries.”
“Mmhmm I know because it didn’t happen.” Luke said flatly. “Hard to get a picture of a hallucination.”
You rolled your eyes and huffed, Luke was just being protective. It’s not like he was wrong, most men wouldn’t do something like that out of the kindness of their heart.
“This would be so much easier if you had an iPhone. You might be hideous but I still miss your face.” You teased, hearing Han’s booming laugh in the background.
“Whatever.” Luke grumbled, “okay, so what am I looking at here?”
“See it’s this collection of paper that has typed out wo-“
“Smartass. I mean: what’s so… cool? about it?” He interrupted.
“It’s a special edition. $50. He just gave me a special edition book without a second thought.” You said excitedly. “Remember I lost my copy not too long ago?”
“Mmm yeah I think I remember.” He said noncommittally. “You should really keep up with your shit.”
“Hey I’m doing better!” You retorted. “My life is so put together right now. You’d be amazed.”
“Delusional Han I’m telling you.” He snickered quietly.
“Oh my god! Have you no faith in me at all?” You scoffed. “I haven’t forgotten to charge my phone or take my medicine. I’ve kept everything tidy. All my important stuff stays in my bag.”
“You’ve been possessed.” Luke gasped.
“Fuck. If I have then I’ve got the sweetest demon the 7th circle could provide.” You joked. “I’ve even been sleeping better, I think maybe even boogie is happier too. She’s started sitting at the living room window to watch the pigeons again.”
“Aw, my niece.” He crooned. “My *favorite* niece.”
“What about leia’s new-“
“I said what I said.” Luke interrupted.
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Diary Entry: July 8th
The way you gushed about me on the phone was everything I could’ve asked for and more. I’ve never been so fucking proud of myself. I feel like I could… I don’t know lift a fucking car or something. I feel good. This is a good feeling, to be appreciated like this.
I want you to know how happy you’ve made me today.
To hear your voice, see your face, watch your body language as you spoke about how we met and our little chat today. I could live off purely that for days. Your giggle is nourishment for my soul, your voice is honey to drink with my tea, your beauty is the sugar in the much-to-big spoon I’d use to stir it with.
That’s what life with you would be like. Tea time. It’s soft, I always think of tea time as being soft; a big blanket of comfort and security. I just feel like it’s the perfect metaphor.
You are the ingredients. The tea leaves, honey, sugar, and water.
I am the the cup and life, fate, whatever it may be, is the spoon.
Can you use all of those things separately? Sure. But would it make much sense to pour hot water on a pile of dry leaves, drizzle some honey and sprinkle sugar into a goopy puddle right on the kitchen counter?
Would it be enjoyable to drink air from a small cup and leave the spoon lonely and unused?
No.
You need me to hold you; you are so many things. All of them are perfect and all of them are uniquely you. But when joined together in a secure little cup you’ll have the opportunity to mesh those things into something new.
A cup is just a cup if there’s nothing in it. Cold and empty ceramic. Sturdy and reliable although delicate when handled irresponsibly.
Fill me with you. All of you.
You’ve already started that you know? Each tea leaf is a tidbit of you.
Your likes and dislikes. Your happiest memories and even your sad ones, your angry moments, your bad days. I love and cherish even the deepest caverns and widest chasms in your beautiful mind. Without them, you wouldn’t be you.
Please believe me when I say that even if the leaves are crumpled or incomplete… it doesn’t mean that they won’t make tea.
Honey, my favorite. Your personality. God you’re so fucking sweet it hurts. Your voice, those lovely lips that speak such well written poetry.
My love, everything you say is a hymn.
I wasn’t a religious man before you. My Goddess, I fall to my knees at the altar for you. Speak to me and you’ll sing to my very soul. Tell me truth, tell me lies, tell me those things that float through the nether. I’ll take it all as gospel.
Ask of me anything and I will spill blood, even if it is my own, to provide you with whatever you wish.
I never understood why honey was akin to the nectar of the gods until I met you.
Now I understand. To taste you is to taste life. To smell you is to breathe freely. To feel you is to be soothed.
Sugar. Do you know how many grains of sugar are in the average tablespoon? Around 60,000. The human eye processes visuals at the average rate of 13 milliseconds per image. Even faster if presented with an image that invokes emotion. Though for the purposes of math, we will go with 13 milliseconds.
13 milliseconds is about 75 frames per second. 60 seconds in one minute. 4,500 frames.
If the average tablespoon holds 60,000 grains of sugar that’s 270,000,000 frames per second.
4,500,000 minutes. 75,000 hours. 3,125 days. About 102 months. Alittle over 8 years.
I use 3 tablespoons of sugar per cup of tea.
That means by our 25 anniversary I will have been graced with every grain of your beauty.
By then I’ll probably need a few more spoonfuls if I plan to survive raising children with you. If they’re as hyperactive as you get sometimes I’ll fucking need it.
Oh well. Just more time for me to bask in your beauty.
All these things have filled me, your cup. All that I need now is water. Your love.
The kind of love that burns so hot that it bubbles up beneath your skin and makes you itch if you’re apart for too long.
That’s what happens when water boils, the atoms separate and bounce around until they come back together as the water cools.
Just like us.
I’m the flame that’s heating your water, the closer I get the hotter it’ll grow until it’s rattling the kettle, screaming to be let out and bring all the pieces together.
Adding that boiling water, your love. It will bring life to me. You’ll warm the cold ceramic shell that I’ve been for so long. Fragile and lonely and horribly handled. I might have a few chips but the foundation is strong and worthy.
A cup is just a cup if there’s nothing in it.
You give me purpose. You make me useful.
I will let our love steep. Let it steep, because you can’t make tea without all the ingredients and a water-worthy cup.
We will stir it and stir it and stir it until the the hand of fate declares us ready, I will be there for you at the *clink* of the spoon against my rim.
I will be there after to hold you until the very last sip.
I will be there until I am broken beyond repair.
If the last sip happens before my ceramic cracks… I will be quick to join you after slipping through the hands of fate.
It’s a long winded way to say that I love you, but if you wanted, I would memorize it and recite it for you every night before drift to sleep.
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Diary Entry: July 12th
You’re so cute.
I don’t know how you haven’t noticed that your laundry detergent should’ve run out ages ago. I giggle like a school girl everytime I see you at the laundromat holding it up to measure it out.
I’ve started washing my stuff in the same as you, I love the way your laundry smells.
But I love the way you smell even more.
You just bought some new sheets recently and I took the liberty of ordering the same ones. What luck that we both use a queen size bed huh? The cutesy little strawberry print isn’t exactly my style but I don’t give a shit. The giddy way you opened up your package was nothing short of adorable.
You know what else is super handy about using the same detergent?
You won’t notice when I switch them out.
You’re washing them for the first time today since you just received them in the mail yesterday. I know you’re so excited to put them on and make your pretty pink bed up, I’m amazed you had the patience to wait until today to go to the laundromat. It’s open 24/7, proud of you baby. Prioritizing that good deep sleep you’ve been getting.
You’re welcome, and thank you.
Watching you sleep from the end of the bed is one of my favorite things. It just… I don’t know it makes me feel comforted to be there. It’s the closest thing to sleeping next to you that I can get right now. Then I’ll be getting some good deep sleep.
It’s hard for me to rest if I can’t reach out and make sure you’re safe.
The audio from your room is wonderful ASMR though. Your snores and snuffles and the rustling of blankets while you sprawl out and occupy as much space as your body can manage; it’s soothing to me.
Partially because I know you’re okay, partially because I was able to give you that deep rest.
You wash your sheets once a week because you love the feeling of fresh warm linens. It’s the simple pleasures of life that bring you the most joy. That’s something I adore about you.
So here’s the plan. I’m a man of my word and I promised you a reward for all your hard work didn’t I? I’m also a man who enjoys the killing of two birds with one stone.
Life goes so much more smoothly if you take the time to line up the shot.
That’s why I immediately ordered my own set as soon as I checked your Amazon account. Mine arrived today too and I’ll be stopping by the laundromat just as you’re leaving. I’ve left them in the box and put it at the bottom of my basket though, I don’t want to ruin the surprise you know?
I’m so glad I was able to hear your little chat with your friends. Not only was it a wonderful reassurance, it also allowed me to plan our encounters more closely together. I’ve made myself known to you, I’ve spaced out our previous meetings well enough to leave you wishing you’d catch me out in the hallway even for a quick hello.
Trust me I have been dying to indulge you. But if this whole relationship has taught me anything it’s: trust the process.
See you soon princess, my timer just went off. I’ll be there just in time to watch you nuzzle your face into the last warm item of clothing from the dryer before tossing it in the basket.
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Date:
July 12th
You were tossing the last of your clean laundry into the basket when the bell above the door jingled. Purely out of habit you glanced over, instead of the usual stranger or semi-familiar face, it was Anakin.
He seemed not to notice you straight away, keeping his head down and walking to the washer/dryer set closest to the front window.
It was shameful the way you took this opportunity to stare and soak him up. His whole physique just screamed at the primal parts of your brain. The parts that want you to sprint across the laundromat and l seduce him into ravaging you right up against the glass he stood near. Who cares who sees? You’d be beyond proud to be spotted in the throes of passion as long as it was him who was behind you.
The way his arms moved should be illegal. How is it possible for someone to be so… lean? The veins that and corded tendons that roll beneath his skin become even more visible as his wrist gives way to his hands.
Wide palms that would be perfect for grabbing a handful of your ass. Gripping your hips to guide you down onto what you can only assume is an equally impressive cock.
Long fingers as the most elegantly carved necklace. Fingertips that could trace swirling patterns across the vast expanse of your skin. Those same fingertips caressing the slick and swollen folds that just so happened to be in desperate need of his attention.
How could you not be a puddle of a person when he locks eyes with you like that? Like he’s reading the transcript of your soul, his eyes never stayed in one place too long. He needed to take in as much of you as possible each and everytime he was in your company.
How could you not forget how to speak when he walks over to you with such confidence? His towering frame would be intimidating if he didn’t radiate comfort. He seemed like he knew he had that affect on you, or maybe he was just one of those clueless types. That special kind of man who doesn’t realize what a catch they are.
“What’s up sweet girl?” He asked with that same gritty tone that had you feigning for him in ways he’d find unholy.
“Hey Anakin.” You managed to tone down the smile that instantly spread across your face. “I was just about to leave…”
“Well isn’t that a shame.” He chuckled, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back again before he looked up and away. Stretching his arm up behind his head to rub his neck.
“Hmm yeah it is.” You murmured, too distracted by the tiny sliver of skin and dark hair the peaked out from beneath the hem of his shirt.
“Eyes up baby.” He teased, his finger tapping the underside of your chin before you could even register his hand was coming toward you.
‘Jesus Christ.’
If he can make your knees this weak from a few words… it’s almost concerning to think of the state you’d be in after he rearranges your guts.
The blush on your cheeks could’ve been mistaken for a sunburn, never had you felt so fucking embarrassed and flustered at the same time. You couldn’t even be mad.
“Let me help, yeah?” He said, choosing to glaze over your blatant staring and not push it farther with the teasing comments.
Truly a gentleman.
“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” You nodded. “Thanks.”
You managed a soft smile as your brain attempted to rewire itself into working condition again. He closed the dryer and placed your detergent and fabric softener beads into your basket and carried them over to his washer/dryer combo, expecting you to follow.
He sat it down near one of the many metal folding chairs lining the wall and turned to you again, his expression one of concern? Worry? Apprehension?
“You okay sweetheart?” He asked gently. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“What?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Uncomfortable? No, no.” You shook your head in realization that he must’ve assumed he’d struck a nerve with his flirtatious comment.
“You sure?” He asked.
Somehow his hands, those strong hands that you just knew would feel like heaven on your skin, had made their way to your biceps. Slowly traveling the length of your forearm to hold both of your hands in his, your fingers curved over his while his thumb rubbed your knuckles.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” You nodded, shooting him a bashful smile.
His eyes searched your face like he was scanning for even the most minuscule change in expression, any twitch of your lip or shift in your line of sight that might say otherwise. When he was sure you were being truthful he spoke again.
“Alright princess,” he conceded with a warm tone. “you sticking around or headed out?”
“I’d stay to chat for a bit if I could, but I’ve gotta clock-in, in about… 45mins.” You said, thankful for the change in subject.
Anakin never failed to both confuse and amaze you. Every fucking time you spoke to him. You were tired of telling yourself he was just too damn good to be true, fuck it, he is that good.
In all your years, you’d never had a man check-in with you like that and in such a caring and considerate way… you couldn’t have dreamed up a man like this. It was a small detail of his character, but it made a world of a difference.
If you would’ve said ‘yes, that made me uncomfortable.’ you had no doubt in your mind that he would apologize and mean it. He’d mean it, apologize with his whole chest and make sure that it never ever happened again.
That was the kind of comfort and security that only a fictional love could provide.
But here he is.
In the flesh.
Maybe hearing about this, Luke might change his mind. Luke was only doing his job as your best friend and protector, shielding you from the dangers of the average Brad that you’d dated in the past. But…
Anakin’s not that kinda guy.
“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me where you work.” Anakin pointed out.
“Huh, I guess I haven’t.” You realized. “Bluebird Diner. It’s a good place to eat, yummy pie.”
“Oh yeah I’ve been there before!” Anakin said happily, “that butterscotch pie is so good, oh my god.”
“Right?” You agreed excitedly. “That’s my favorite. I’ll have to tell Rosa that she’s getting compliments on it. She’ll be thrilled.”
“Maybe I’ll grab a slice later.” Anakin suggested. “Before I have to go clock-in.”
“Where do you work?” You asked, finding it a bit comical that you were drooling over him but didn’t even know this basic detail of his life.
“The Cerulean.” Anakin nodded toward the window. “Just a couple blocks from here.”
“The Cerulean? What do you do, bartend?” You asked, curious as alittle itch in the back of your mind needed to be scratched.
“Mhm, I do.” He smiled.
“I think… oh my god. I think I’ve seen you there before!” You laughed. “It was a while back but I was there with some friends… you made my drink!”
“Really?” Anakin laughed. “Shit don’t make me feel bad baby, I don’t remember that.”
“I didn’t expect you too.” You giggled. “The place was packed. I can’t imagine how many people you serve a night.”
“You’ve got no idea.” He blew out a puff of air, with a chuckle.
“Well I’m due for a night out soon,” you said with a grin. “You come grab some pie later and I’ll come get a drink from you tomorrow night.”
“Sounds like a deal princess.” He beamed.
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Part Six
Tag-List:
@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @lonaah @t8lzw @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco
THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.
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berryispunk · 1 month ago
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Where You Left Me
tags: soft! Frankie, addiction , drug usage (not detailed), heavy inner turmoil, struggling Frankie, angst, second chances, some mentions of trauma
summary: Frankie went through hell and back to find his light.
word count: ~ 2,4 k
notes: If themes like this make you uncomfortable, please don't read!!
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Cravings are dangerous. They don’t ever really go away—they just linger. In the dark corners of your mind you can’t control. Always there, just behind your teeth, close enough to taste but always out of reach.
People say getting sober is the hardest part. That’s a lie. The hardest part is staying clean.
It’s not the vomiting or the shakes. Not even the nightmares. It’s the silence after—the weeks, the months. The long, restless nights when you’re still awake at 3AM, again, because sleep doesn’t come easy anymore. Not when your brain won’t shut up, when it’s whispering just one line will fix it.
You know it’s a lie. It always was.
But then she showed up. And somehow, in the middle of all that noise, he found quiet. Found her. Like gravity shifted and he was suddenly caught in her orbit, too busy loving her, worshipping her, giving her the world to think about anything else. The voice got smaller. Weaker. He almost forgot he was a recovering addict. Until he wasn’t anymore.
It crept in quietly, clawing its way from the depths of his subconscious to the front of his mind. At first, it struck like lightning—there and gone in a blink. Until it wasn’t anymore.
He couldn’t tell her. He wasn’t strong enough to see that worry in her eyes, not when she meant it. And she would—of course she would. That only made it worse.
He tried to keep busy. Long walks. Late jogs. Nights out with the boys. The TV always on, volume up. Noise helped. But nothing compared to her. The way she curled into his side after a long day—after he'd spent hours fighting his own thoughts—was the closest he’d ever come to peace. Still, it lingered.
Quiet, relentless, ugly.
His leg started to bounce when things got too still. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t track simple conversations. And of course, she noticed. She always did.
She asked gently, the way she always asked—soft, never pressing. But he shrugged it off every time. I’m fine. Just tired. Just stressed. She was light. Blinding, golden. And he didn’t want his darkness anywhere near her.
He told himself it would pass. That if he just held on a little longer, it’d quiet again. He’d quiet again. So he distracted himself with plans, promises, a future he was desperate to believe in.
They went away together, just the two of them. Somewhere slow, warm, quiet—the kind of place where people smile at strangers and the air smells like salt and sun. She wore her hair loose, laughed louder, slept curled into his chest—it felt like heaven to him. And in a moment that felt too perfect to be real, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. She cried and said yes. He kissed her like she was the answer to everything.
For a few weeks, she was.
There was peace in the planning, in the hope. In calling her fiancée. In watching her hold up swatches and talk about table settings and cake flavors. She was golden in those moments—pure joy. And he tried, God he tried, to believe he was worthy of it. Of her. But the quiet didn’t last.
The pressure started building again. Subtle at first. A forgotten appointment here, a missed call there. Sleepless nights. Shaky hands. That old itch crawling back under his skin, rearing its ugly head in every moment she wasn’t around—in the silence, in the stillness, in the hours he was left alone with himself, the monster in his head, and the ache in his bones.
He started using again before he even fully admitted it to himself. Just once, then again. And again. A slow unraveling.
The high was never worth the fall—and it sure as hell wasn’t worth risking the life he’d wanted for so long. But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t help it. He was too weak. Too fragile in all the wrong ways.
There was a time he wore a uniform, stood tall, was someone people looked up to. But now, when he looked in the mirror, it felt like another life. Another version of him entirely. Even if that life—the military, the things he saw, the things he did—was the reason he started using in the first place.
Because the nightmares were too big. The kind that yanked him out of sleep drenched in sweat, hands trembling. The kind that dragged him under until he drowned in silent tears he never let anyone see. The coke helped.
It quieted the voices. Made the nightmares go away, even if only for a while. A hazed brain worked differently. Softer around the edges. Like walking on clouds. And when he was high, he felt invincible. Unstoppable. The version of himself he never was sober. So he held onto it—longer than he should’ve.
And when he finally got clean, it was harder than pulling the trigger in a war zone halfway across the world. Getting clean was a different kind of battlefield. One where the only enemy was himself and all the fractured versions of who he used to be.
She made the war feel winnable. With her steady hands and glimmering eyes, with the way she looked at him like he was already whole. Like she believed in a version of him he hadn’t even met yet.
For a while, that was enough. Until it wasn’t.
The night of his bachelor party, it all came crashing down.
Too many people, too many jokes. Too many voices he couldn’t hear over the noise in his own head. It felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating him. So he left, didn’t say a word. Just walked out.
He found her at her own celebration across town, radiant in a glittering dress, surrounded by friends, happiness wrapped around her like a halo—until she saw him. And just like that, her smile fell. She crossed the room fast, eyes searching, voice low.
“Frankie? What’s wrong?”
He asked if they could talk, and the worry in her eyes gutted him.
They found a quiet corner. His hands trembled as he told her. Everything. That he’d relapsed. That it had been going on for weeks. That he didn’t tell her because he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing disappointment in her face. Couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.
She was quiet for a long time—longer than he could bear. The silence was deafening, louder than any scream. It made his skin crawl, sweat bead at the back of his neck. He’d fought battles. Faced men with guns and the monsters that didn’t carry weapons. But this—her, just looking at him without saying a word—was worse than all of it. Worse than every moment in his life he ever regretted.
When she finally spoke, her voice cracked.
“I’m not angry you slipped. I’m angry you didn’t tell me before it was too late. Before we got this far. Before you asked me to spend my life with you when you weren’t even being honest with me—or yourself.”
He tried to explain. Tried to fix it with rushed words and broken, empty apologies. But she just shook her head, eyes glassy from unshed tears.
“You were supposed to trust me, Frankie.”
They fought. It was ugly. Loud, brutal, raw. All emotions on display. He’s known her for years, but he never saw her that angry. He deserved it all.
When every word had been torn apart, when the air was thick with nothing left but rage and regret, she ripped the ring from her finger. Threw it into his palm. And walked away.
The day of the wedding felt like an ache neither of them could shake.
He was restless. Laying in the sterile quiet of rehab, staring at the white walls that had become a prison. The days stretched, endless, as he wrestled with the promise of redemption he was no closer to reaching. His body ached from the withdrawal, but the deeper ache was the one inside. The one that had nothing to do with his recovery and everything to do with the person who wasn’t there.
She was restless too. She moved through the motions of the day, surrounded by friends, family, all the plans and people who had once been part of a future she thought she'd have. But the what-ifs tore at her—each one sharp, each one dragging her deeper into the hollow of a life that could have been. The pain was too much to bear, too thick in her chest.
He sat there first, his fingers tracing the little carved heart on the bench, the grooves worn smooth by time, but still faintly visible. It had been three months after they’d gotten together—something small, a gesture to mark the beginning of what he thought would be forever. The carving wasn’t perfect, rough around the edges like the careless way he’d done it, but it had been his. It had been their thing, this bench, this place where everything had once felt real.
His fingers lingered there, the cool wood pressing against his skin, and for a moment, it felt like he could still feel her beside him, the warmth of her hand in his, the sound of her laughter filling the air. The ache in his chest was sudden, overwhelming. God, it hurt. To trace something that was meant to stand for something good, now just a mark of everything he had failed to protect.
He pulled his hand away slowly, eyes locked on the bench as if he could will himself to turn back time. But the weight of it all crushed down on him, suffocating in its finality.
And then, he looked up.
She was standing there, just beyond the edge of the bench. Her eyes met his, wide and uncertain, as if she had been fighting the urge to walk away the whole time. The air between them felt thick, charged, like a thousand unsaid things hung in the space between them.
She stood still for a long moment, her gaze shifting briefly to the place he had just touched—the heart carved into the wood—before locking back on him.
In that moment, everything felt too much. She wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But somehow, they both were.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. Not like it had been earlier. There was something different now, something fragile and unfiltered but, maybe, a little more honest.
He opened his mouth, but the words were slow, unsure, as if he hadn’t quite figured out how to ask for this. Like he lost his voice.
"Please stay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard. "Let me… let me say it right. Even if it doesn’t change anything. Please, just stay."
She didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Her face softened a little, the sharp edges of anger and hurt blurring just enough. She wanted to pull away. She almost did. But she didn’t.
Instead, she let out a soft laugh, one that was barely there but carried everything they’d lost. And the gray that surrounded them lightened for a moment.
"Well," she said, a teasing glint in her eye, "I guess it’s too late to get married today. What a pity. I loved the venue we chose." Her voice was lighter now, but the edge remained.
He let out a quiet laugh too, something small and self-deprecating. "I don’t need a paper to know I’m yours," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, never needing to look away. "I never did."
And in that instant, it was like everything they had before came rushing back—like it had never really gone anywhere. The moments on their couch, the way she’d always curled into his side, the way he felt whole just by being near her.
She shifted closer on the bench, just a little, as if testing the waters. But then, just like she always did, she cuddled into his side. Her head nestled into his shoulder, her hand resting against his chest, finding the place that had always been hers to hold. His heart picking up speed.
He was so used to it, the ease of it, that it felt like no time had passed at all. His heart swelled with something he hadn’t felt in far too long, like the world finally had color again.
Then his gaze fell to his free hand and he froze. The ring was still there, tucked safely away in his pocket. He hadn’t realized he’d carried it with him this whole time.
He pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it slowly between his fingers.
His gaze stayed on it, but his mind was far away—lost in everything that should’ve been.
She noticed. Of course she did.
"Do you still have it?" she asked, more statement than question.
"All the time," he said softly. "Since… you know."
He exhaled, the words thick in his throat.
"Getting rid of it felt like admitting it was really over. Like I was giving up on us. And I… I just couldn’t."
He hesitated, eyes flicking up to hers.
"I know I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you with the truth before everything fell apart. I was scared—of what you’d see in me. Of what I’d lose if I said it out loud. But I never stopped—"
She didn’t let him finish.
Didn’t need to.
She reached out, steady and quiet, holding out her hand.
The same hand he had once slipped that ring onto, kneeling in a sun-warmed haze, believing—with everything in him—that he could give her forever.
And now, after everything, she was giving him a chance.
Even through the ache. Even through the hurt.
His hands trembled slightly as he slid the ring back on her finger, slower this time.
Like he understood the weight of it now.
Like it meant even more—because this time, she’d seen every dark corner of him and still chose to stay.
Then he looked at her, his smile soft, one brow raised—
You sure?
She didn’t answer—not with words.
But he saw it in her eyes, everything she couldn’t say out loud. The ache, the hope, the love still stubbornly burning beneath the bruised parts.
Then she leaned in and kissed him.
Softly, tenderly. Like he might break if she wasn’t careful. And maybe he would’ve.
If he’d really lost her for good.
The world fell quiet around them, just the two of them on that worn-out bench—no music, no speeches, no crowd holding its breath.
Just this. Her hand in his. Her lips on his. The ring back where it belonged.
Next to her, he wasn’t lost. He wasn’t scared.
He just was.
And somehow, it felt more powerful than any wedding they could’ve planned.
Because this wasn’t about perfection.
It was about choosing each other—even after everything.
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thanks for reading 💌
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onlyangel4 · 10 days ago
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sharp tongue. la knight. part one.
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la knight x interviewer!reader
part two
synopsis: when you join smackdown as an interviewer you take one loud mouthed superstar off guard by completely matching his energy.
the backstage hallway smelled faintly of hairspray, vinyl, and tension. typical for a friday night under the bright lights of smackdown. you stood off to the side near the camera setup, casually flipping through your cue cards while one tech adjusted your mic pack.
you weren't nervous, far from it. you’d been doing this long enough to know nerves were wasted energy. besides, you weren’t just another backstage interviewer or valet here to giggle at punchlines and ask the same three questions. no, you'd carved out a niche by being different.
smart. sharp. unbothered.
you weren’t scared to go toe-to-toe with egos the size of tour buses.
you tucked your cue cards into your back pocket and gave the camera operator a nod. "we live in thirty?"
"twenty", he corrected with a grin. "try not to roast this one too hard. he's new."
you smirked. "no promises."
just then, your guest, a fresh-faced rookie still trying to figure out which side of the ring apron to enter from approached. he looked equal parts excited and terrified. you gave him a quick once-over and offered a polite smile.
"relax", you said smoothly. "just speak from the heart. and if you freeze up, i’ll jump in and save your dignity or what’s left of it after last week’s gear malfunction."
the poor guy turned red instantly. "yeah, okay. cool."
the crew chuckled quietly as everyone took their positions. You stepped into frame, adjusted your stance, and signalled the countdown.
5… 4… 3… 2…
"ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time"
before you could finish the name, the shot was thrown off by a loud boom of a voice echoing down the hallway.
"lemme talk to ya!"
the tech cursed under his breath. the rookie jumped. Yyu didn’t even blink.
from down the corridor came the swagger, the gold chain, the shades, the ego that needed its own zip code. la knight strutted into frame like he owned the whole arena, talking loud, chin high, finger-pointing toward the rafters as he launched into one of his trademark rants, completely hijacking your segment.
you gave the camera a long, unamused blink.
"oh boy", you muttered. "here comes the human soundbite."
but you didn’t move.
not an inch.
and when he noticed you weren’t clearing the way?
that’s when things got interesting.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
knight didn’t slow down. if anything, he turned up the volume.
"you got people around here sayin’ they’re the future, sayin’ they’re the face of the brand, but when it comes down to it. when that red light is on, there’s only one name you need to know. l...a... knight." he paused for dramatic effect, jaw tight with smugness. "yeah!"
the poor rookie you were supposed to interview had already disappeared off-screen like a spooked deer. you stayed in place, arms crossed, a slow smirk forming.
the camera kept rolling.
knight finally turned and noticed you standing there. not backing down. not clapping. not swooning.
just watching.
he pulled his sunglasses down an inch to get a better look.
"well now", he said, voice slick. "didn’t see you there, sweetheart. you a fan, or just trying to catch the glow?"
you raised an eyebrow. "neither. you’re standing in my segment."
he tilted his head. "your segment?"
"mmhmm", you replied coolly. "unless you’ve suddenly developed an interest in rookie career spotlights."
knight looked past the camera, then back at you. "ain’t nobody tuning in to hear the freshman fumble his lines. they’re here for the megastar, baby. and when the megastar talks? people listen. yeah!"
you tilted your head in mock agreement. "right, right. and when i talk, people understand complete sentences."
that got a laugh from a crew member off-camera.
knight turned his full body toward you now. game on.
"you got a sharp tongue", he said with a smirk. "but don’t get it twisted, you’re standing in the presence of charisma personified, the man who could sell ice to a snowman and still charge shipping. you? you’re cute. but you don’t got it."
"oh, i’ve got it", you fired back. "what i don’t have is a habit of yelling at full volume like someone’s chasing me with a mic budget."
"ohhhhhh" someone blurted from craft services.
knight let out a short laugh despite himself, clearly not used to being matched, much less outdone.
he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to sound amused. "what’s your name, smart mouth?"
you gave a faux-thoughtful pause. "let’s stick with ‘the woman who just made you blink twice on camera."
knight stared. you didn’t flinch.
and then his smirk curled slow and dangerous. "i’ll remember that."
you stepped around him, tossed a look over your shoulder, and said, "good. try spelling it next time."
the camera cut.
knight was left standing in the frame, arms folded, a mix of annoyance and curiosity flickering across his face.
he watched you walk off without another word.
and for the first time all night...
la knight was speechless.
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the catering area was unusually quiet, by wwe standards, anyway. a few talent milled around, grabbing food before the next segment. you were leaning against a high table, sipping from a bottle of water and scrolling through your notes, still half-smirking over your earlier ambush.
you heard him before you saw him. of course.
la walked in with that same confident stride, talking loud to no one in particular. a few heads turned. he had a magnetic pull like that, even when people wanted to ignore him, they couldn’t.
and then his eyes landed on you.
he stopped walking.
"so", he drawled, loud enough to draw attention, "there she is. miss mic drop."
you didn’t even look up. "and there he is. volume set to insecure."
a few nearby superstars glanced over and immediately slowed their chewing.
knight approached, hands clasped behind his back like a smug professor. "you walk around here like you got all the answers."
you took another sip. "no. i walk around like i know the difference between confidence and compensating."
he laughed, short and sharp, but didn’t back down. "you’re quick. i’ll give you that. but you keep playing this game with me, sweetheart, and you’re gonna find out real fast: i don’t lose on the mic."
"oh, i know" you said, finally meeting his eyes. "that’s why you talk so much, trying to distract from the loss"
a collective "daaaamn!" rippled through the room.
knight took one slow step forward, just enough to close the distance. his tone dropped into something quieter, more intimate, but still cocky.
"you think you’re clever. you think you’re special."
he leaned in.
"but you keep pushin’ me like this, and you might just end up in my storyline."
you tilted your head, letting that hang in the air, then shot back.
"you say that like it’s a threat. but honestly? i don’t carry side characters."
"ohhhhhh!"
that did it. that got you the unofficial win.
knight just looked at you for a moment, studying, smirking, like he wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or impressed.
then, "you keep talkin’ like that, i might start thinkin’ you’re my kinda trouble."
you uncrossed your arms and walked past him, brushing his shoulder with a slow smile.
"no, knight. i am your kinda trouble. you just don’t know it yet."
and just like that, you were gone again.
knight stood there, tongue in his cheek, jaw set.
he didn’t say a word.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
backstage at smackdown was never quiet, but the energy shifted whenever someone made waves, and tonight, your name was on everyone’s lips.
you were leaning against a crate near gorilla, chatting with a crew member about an upcoming segment, when you heard it.
"aye, yo, was that real? what you said to knight earlier?"
you looked up to see jimmy uso walking toward you, all gold chains and big grins, already laughing like he knew the answer.
you smirked. "which part? the roast in catering or the mic drop in my own segment?"
jimmy let out a dramatic "DAAAAMN" and clapped a hand over his mouth. "you had that man glitchin’ like 2k on patch day."
you shrugged casually. "he walked into my promo uninvited. i just returned the favour, with vocabulary."
from behind him, cody rhodes appeared, arms crossed, eyebrows already halfway to the ceiling. "so it’s you", he said, tone full of playful accusation.
you blinked. "me, what?"
cody chuckled. "i’ve been hearing all night how la knight, mr. talk to ‘em, actually got talked back to for once. didn’t believe it until i saw the footage." He gave a nod of approval. "gotta say… impressive."
jimmy leaned against the crate beside you, still grinning. "y’all got tension. like, fight then make-out kinda tension."
you gave him a dry look. "i don’t mix business with testosterone overload."
"lies", jimmy grinned. "you were smirkin’ when you walked away. that’s flirty smirkin’. that’s ‘i might banter with this man until we accidentally fall in love’ smirkin’."
cody looked thoughtful. "you know… from a booking perspective, there’s something there. sparks. opposites. the audience would eat it up."
You laughed, shaking your head. "you two done matchmaking? i’m just doing my job and if he can’t handle a woman who talks back, that’s his problem."
jimmy gave you a look. "mmmhm. keep tellin’ yourself that."
cody pulled out his phone, typing something.
"what, are you tweeting about it now?" you asked.
"nope", he said, smirking. "texting hunter. this story writes itself."
you rolled your eyes and walked off, but not before muttering, "men. one stare-down and suddenly they’re planning a wedding."
behind you, jimmy cupped his hands and called out:
"hey, when you and knight have kids, name the first one yeah jr."
the hallway echoed with laughter.
and somewhere, probably just around the corner…
knight had definitely heard it.
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
knight leaned against the wall just outside catering, arms crossed, sunglasses now perched up on his head, forgotten. the hallway had mostly cleared, the echo of voices trailing off in the distance, hers included.
smart mouth. fast wit. didn’t flinch.
he wasn’t used to that.
hell, most people either tried to ride his wave or stayed the hell out of it. but her? she didn’t just push back, she flipped the whole damn tide and walked away like she owned it.
he hated that.
he didn’t hate that.
the corner of his mouth twitched, involuntarily. a smirk tried to sneak its way out before he shut it down with a quiet exhale. no way in hell he was giving the world a free look at that moment.
still, your voice stuck with him, sharp, teasing, impossible to ignore.
"no, knight. i am your kinda trouble. you just don’t know it yet."
trouble. yeah, maybe you were.
but maybe that was the point.
he pushed off the wall, adjusting his jacket with a tug at the lapels. his swagger returned on instinct, like armour sliding into place, but his mind wasn’t done with you.
not by a long shot.
as he walked off toward gorilla, something settled in his chest, just below the ego, right between the ribcage and curiosity.
he didn’t know you yet.
but he would.
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trigun-manga-overhaul · 8 months ago
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Important News Regarding the Project!
Hey, everyone following our project, both new and long time fans!
Today we've got some news that aren't entirely positive, unfortunately.
THE OVERHAUL PROJECT WILL BE PUT ON HOLD.
The decision was made with the main team, as we've discussed the ways we've attempted to stay going with our deadlines. We've concluded that pushing ourselves, even if very gently, is not making our motivation came back.
While we still love Trigun dearly, we have felt somewhat alienated from the community lately. Beyond that, real life responsibilities and struggles have taken much of our personal energy, cutting us off from other aspects of our lives. We've decided to focus what energy we have into reconnecting with friends and focusing on personal creative projects, all avenues that suffered during our burnout.
So, for the foreseeable future we will not be uploading any new volumes, nor will we be posting monthly updates. We will still be answering any questions you send to our blog, we will reblog something here and there, and engage with with ongoing Trigun Bookclub (though under our personal accounts.)
We will also still be doing that review of the Trigun Deluxe book eventually, though much there is to say about it has truly been said in the community in general.
If we feel up for it, we might make a surprise upload some time of smaller releases, like: artbooks, comics, magazines, etc. Usually a posting notice will be uploaded a week in advance, so people hopefully won't miss it when we do upload.
We're sorry we won't be continuing our Japanese uploads for now, but as we know, and encouraged by fans as well, we must look after our own health first and foremost.
Thank you for your understanding!
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flightofaqrow · 2 years ago
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❝  i could’ve killed you!  ❞ / not me briefly appearing only to disappear on my vacation again just for this
superheroes ** accepting we take whatever Missa we can get here
qrow coughs, wind returning to his lungs. he's finally able to stand again, crawling back up with handholds on the boulder Winter had full body-slammed him into with a blast of icy gale.
(talk about pissed mist.)
honestly not the worst scrape he's been in. pretty sure past icicles of her words had done him more lasting damage. but he also knows how guilt can twist mistakes. Winter's still feeling out these new powers of hers.
and, quite likely, the more worried about it she is, the more dangerous she becomes.
qrow perks up and puts on a brave face, amidst rubbing warmth back into bare forearms. with Misfortune silenced for a few moments, he can speak boldly without fear for an immediate second knock to the teeth.
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"ah, c'mon. it's just'a... bit'a frostbite. i'll be fine."
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litfiction · 11 months ago
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oneshot one four three ❤️‍🩹
pairing — paige bueckers x fem!reader
content & warnings — "four years of heavy hearts and unspoken words meet in the gampel pavilion parking lot, rehashing old wounds" , uhm just poorly written angst sorry...
word count: 1.9k , notes @ the end (i'm sorry for this)
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[PRESENT DAY, 30 SECONDS AGO]
“I just wanted you to know.”
It’s been four years. Four years of pain you thought you numbed. You thought you numbed. Because now that wound in your heart you had tried so hard to ignore felt fresh all over again.
[4 YEARS AGO]
Maybe you should’ve seen it coming. Maybe you did see it coming. Doesn’t make reality hurt any less. That’s just the harsh truth. Paige’s life was changing, her future having so much in store for her. A future that you aren’t in.
She left for Connecticut two hours ago. Her last message to you was five minutes ago.
paige :) 9:13PM
Boarding now
I’m sorry
You blocked her number after staring at the message for another five. Childish, sure, but so was your hoping things would work out for you. Hoping long distance would work out. But Paige was barely out of state and look where you were now. A sick game it is, love. Not fit for childish hopes.
[PRESENT DAY, 2.5 HOURS AGO]
“Please! It’ll be fun I swear!” Your best friend begged. She’s been begging you to go with her to a UConn basketball game. You would but you got off a plane not even two hours ago and entry to the game venue was in less than one. But your best friend is nothing if not persistent and you relent to her continuous pleas.
Within 45 minutes you’ve showered, picked out an appropriate outfit, and done minimal makeup. You wanted to look at least a little more presentable.
Your best friend, Elsie, rushes you out to her car to drive you to the UConn campus from her apartment. She hops out of the car excitedly, telling you all about the friends that let her know about this game. You nod to the sound of her voice but you don’t pay attention to the words she’s saying.
This is a women’s basketball game. You don’t realize you’ve said that out loud until Elsie looks at you and says, “Duh,” with a weird expression on her face.
You don’t say anything but silently, you dread every step closer you take to the arena, knowing what (or who) you’ll probably be facing in a matter of minutes.
Elsie spots her UConn friends near the entrance to Gampel Pavilion and runs excitedly up to them, waving you over quickly when she notices you didn’t follow her. You walk behind the small group of girls quietly, having said minimal introductions. The place is already packed and buzzing with energy as soon as you step inside.
You follow the way to a registry table and then to your seats. It’ll still be a few minutes until the athletes come out so you take that precious time to calm your nerves. Elsie notices you breathing heavily and shaking your leg and sends you a concerned look. It snaps you back into a more normal state. You were probably worrying for nothing.
Except when the UConn Women’s Basketball team, or more specifically, a certain blonde on the team, emerges from the tunnels, the stands erupting in cheers, people clapping loudly next to you, it feels like the world stops to lend you that moment of time to feel everything again.
[4 YEARS AGO]
“You could’ve told me sooner.” Your voice was eerily quiet. It unsettled Paige only because she thought you’d be yelling at her. You wanted to, you wanted nothing more than to scream and yell at her but you couldn’t. The only display of emotion coming from your otherwise stoic face were the quiet falls of tears coming from your tired eyes.
“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“You let me hope, Paige. You let me hope like an idiot in love that you would choose to stay. Or at the very least, be willing to keep me in your life!” The last sentence rising in volume as you finally felt the anger take over.
She was committed to the University of Connecticut, a thousand miles away from where you currently were in Minnesota. That wasn’t the part that made you angry. You were angry that she had waited until months after she told you where she committed that she couldn’t do long distance.
Your chest burned and your throat constricted with all feelings of grief and anger. Bile rose faster than the words you wanted to scream at her, leaving you speechless.
Paige was quiet herself, too ashamed to say anything further. “I hope everything goes well for you in Connecticut.”
And then you walked out of her house, a red tinge in your eyes and an ugly feeling in your heart.
[PRESENT DAY, 2 HOURS AGO]
Paige ran out with that buzzed feeling running through her. It felt like her veins were electric currents. The crowds cheered loudly upon seeing her and she loved playing into it too much, her teammates smirking at her.
They announced the starting lineups and within a matter of minutes the first quarter to the game had begun with the tip-off.
The game felt good. Paige felt in her element and the the crowds felt energized. It was shaping up to be a great game for the Huskies. For Paige especially. She sank a good number of her three attempts, getting her teammates some assists, making most of her free throws.
By the fourth and final quarter, UConn was up by 11. Their momentum hadn’t slowed down and every player that got to play got a decent amount of points by the end making a decisive victory with the Huskies up by 18 points in the end.
Paige was on a high even after almost everyone had cleared out. She felt amazing, like she could do anything.
Fate has a funny way of testing her.
[PRESENT DAY, 30 MINUTES AGO]
The game ended well. You did enjoy watching (if you count out all the times your eyes drifted to Paige, which in your defense, is hard since she is kind of their star player, which was a lot of times so maybe you didn’t enjoy watching as much you thought) and maybe you’d watch another one (if even thinking about basketball didn’t bring back painful memories).
One of Elsie’s friends was still inside the venue talking with some other people and you were waiting outside for her since she needed a ride home. Elsie was just recapping all the moments she loved from the game and you did your best to agree and respond as enthusiastically. If she noticed you were forcing it, she didn’t say anything.
A door opens and you instinctively turn to where the sound came from. At first, you don’t register who walks out properly because of the canopy of darkness from the night sky.
Then your eyes meet hers and you both freeze. One could argue it’s from the chilly breeze but anyone with two, even one, functioning eyes would be able to tell something was off.
You turn back around quickly, trying to push Paige out of your mind which was much harder now that she was standing the closest she has to you in years. Your attempts are completely futile when you feel a presence behind you and Elsie is making a face at you to turn around.
Reluctantly, you do. And you think you can hear your heart crack like porcelain.
She looks good even in her tracksuit. She still has the same blonde hair and dark roots. The same piercing blue eyes. She still makes you feel the same things she did four years ago. Although now there are more painful undertones as you take her in.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, not accusatory, just in genuine question. It takes you a second to reply back, kind of in shock that she was talking to you again.
“I’m- I’m visiting my friend,” you point over your shoulder to Elsie who waves before turning to walk away, pretending to be on her phone. You’ve told her bits and pieces of your history with Paige but she’s never gotten the whole picture. Whether it was because “it wasn’t that serious” or it hurt too bad (it’s the latter), you’re sure Elsie’s probably figured out the answer herself by now
Paige nods. Neither of you say another word for a solid minute, just standing there quietly, looking at each other. Wondering if this is real life.
Paige isn’t even sure why or how she ended up here, she only vaguely remembers her feet carrying her over like there aren't four years and paragraphs of unspoken words between you two.
You don’t even realize you’re crying until Paige’s hand instinctively reaches out to wipe the droplets away before stopping herself, knowing that that’s probably inappropriate to do now. Every fiber of your being wishes she didn’t because you’d have let. You’d have let her do whatever, no matter how reckless.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. It’s so faint you have to strain to hear it. “Why are you apologizing again?”
“Because I still don’t think I’ve said it enough. I really am sorry.”
You only sigh but add a nod along with it. “It’s okay.” Except it really isn’t. Somehow the pain is worse than the first time she said it. All you want at this moment is for the pain to stop. For Paige to not say anything further for fear it’ll only make it worse.
But she has a knack for doing the opposite of what you want.
“I’m not sure I should even be saying this, or even be here really, but I regret doing what I did to you. I regret it so much.”
“So why did you do it? Why’d you let me believe we could work it out? That you’d let me be there for you? I was willing, Paige.” Quiet sobs wracked your body, threatening to get louder as she stays silent again.
She’s crying now too. Paige contemplates what to say next, trying to gather her thoughts but that’s the thing about you, she’s never been able to think properly around you. So she blurts whatever response her brain conjures up.
“I was scared.”
“Scared? Scared of what?”
“Of the possibilities.” She’s quiet. You’re quiet. Dead silence falls between you two.
“You think I wasn’t too? I was so terrified of all the things that could go wrong. But I loved you enough to not care, even when you chose the possibility I was the most scared of.” Anger flooded your body again. This was so unfair.
“Everyday I wish it wasn’t the one I chose. But I got in my head and didn’t want to lose you while we were thousands of miles apart.” The “so I lost you while we were three feet apart” hangs in the air.
Nothing else comes out of your mouth. You’re too tired for this conversation.
[PRESENT DAY, 1 MINUTE AGO]
You thought when you walked away that day four years ago would be the worst pain you’ve ever felt. That turned out to be a lie as thirteen words fell from Paige’s lips.
She didn’t say anything else but as the final blow to your already worn out heart, she lets herself hold you in her arms, giving a light kiss to your temple before walking away to her car.
You sobbed dryly as she drove off, the last words she said to you ringing in your ears.
“I still love you. I never stopped. I just wanted you to know.”
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🔖 — day two! chose a pretty vague prompt and went angsty with it. idk how to feel about this honestly i hope my angsty writing improves... lmk how you liked it! thank you sm for reading 🤍
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markleessodalite · 3 months ago
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I Would Have: h.rj
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content: a random conversation with your friend and ex-lover ends with you getting a harsh slap of reality... but in a way, you had it coming.
warnings: former fwb!renjun, angst, hurt/ no comfort, suggestive but not explicit, renjun is lowk funny but seriously there is no happy ending here, reader has fears about growing old, mentions of disability (?) that comes with aging
word count: 1k
a/n: why oh why... everytime I write for Renjun or Jeno it comes out angsty?? i just can't help myself hehe
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“There was just… something about it that got to me. I don’t know.” You pull at the loose thread of your blouse sleeve, knowing you should leave it alone until you get home where you can just cut it off, but your mind was heavy somewhere else. 
Renjun simply nods, neither of you looking at each other. Staring ahead at the city lights visible from your mutual friend’s balcony. It wasn’t anything unnatural for the pair of you to escape from the heat and volume of the party inside for a few moments of genuine, friend to friend connection. Friends who have known each other for years, been through more than a few experiences together. 
You exhale deeply. “It made me sad to see it.” 
“Why?” Renjun crosses his arms lazily over his chest, his head resting against the back of his chair as he keeps looking toward the city. “Usually, seeing an elderly couple having lunch together would be heartwarming. Its cute.”
“He had to feed her.”
“So?”
“He had to feed her.”
“He loves her. Its nice.”
“There’s nothing nice about losing your motor skills, Renjun.” You playfully scold him like a kindergarten teacher, making him laugh through his nose. You smile, but it doesn’t hide the concern in your voice as you continue, “I know its sweet, but it still made me sad.” 
Renjun pauses. You start counting how many apartments in the next building over have those brightly-colored LED lights visible from their windows.
“Yeah, I guess its sad she can’t feed herself.”
“That’s not even the part that made me sad.”
“At least she has her husband to take care of her.”
“That’s the part that made me sad!” Your hands fly up in exaggeration before plopping back into your lap. 
Renjun looks at you, a little confused. Its the same look he’s given you before, many times over. You were always confusing to Renjun. At one point it was fascinating to him, a mystery, something he wanted to figure out, something he wanted to study day in and day out and become an expert on. He questioned your every word, your view on everything. 
Most of all, he questioned why you seemed so turned off by the idea of romance, but so incredibly on when it was just the two of you in a dark, cramped closet with nowhere to put your hands except all over each other. He’d wonder why you decided it was him you wanted to spend every night with, so secret and desperate with legs tied up in knots, but the thought of marriage or sharing a future with somebody made you want to throw up. He’d giggle to himself when his friends insisted there was something funny going on between you two, but he never found it funny when he’d wake up in the morning to you already long gone from his bed. 
“So… her having help made you sad? You’re kinda twisted.”
“That’s not what I meant!” You playfully slapped his arm. The sharp contact reminded Renjun very briefly of the way you used to touch him, the way he used to touch you, before you decided that you should never touch each other again and whatever funny thing you had going on was over. A decision you gave him no voice in. A touch you haven’t given to each other since. 
“Its great that she has that. I’ll never have that…” You pull the thread further out of your sleeve, watching as the seam becomes loose and unraveled. 
Renjun finally looks over at you and notices your path of destruction, reaching over and snapping the thread between his fingers to stop any further damage. “Sure you will, some day.”
“Shut up, Renjun,” you snap, “you said so yourself. I’ll never find someone who will stay with me.” You cross your arms in a huff, looking at your former friend- turned lover- turned just friend again, as he simply keeps watching the city. 
He couldn’t argue with you. He did say that. And he meant every word of it. You had played your little game with him, keeping him close enough to feel your red hot touch, but far enough to never really reach you. Demanding him in your moments of neediness and boredom, but ignoring him when he longed for something intimate and sweet. 
So when you finally drew your game to close, he made sure to tell you that your penchant for a dizzying push and pull would ensure that you stay alone forever, which seemed to be what you wanted anyway. 
“Is that what you want?” He asked, no emotion discernable in his expression. “Someone to take care of you?” 
“I can take care of myself.” You pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself even smaller on your friend’s flimsy patio chair. The night air doesn’t have any chill to it besides a refreshing summer breeze, yet you feel your body shaking. “But… what if one day I can't anymore? What if I need someone to help me do stuff? What if I can’t feed myself my own soup?”
“Then you’ll find a nursing home or something.”
“Why do other people get life partners and I get a random nurse?”
“That nurse will take care of you.”
“Yeah…” You sigh. “But they won’t care for me.” You wait for a response from your friend, hearing nothing but the frenzy of the house party just beyond the door behind you. You look at Renjun, his jaw noticeably clenched, his eyes focused on some vague obscurity in the distance. 
“Junnie?”
He looks at you. “You know I could have done that for you. I would have.”
“... I know.”
You do know. You know that he was head over heels for you. You know that he would have stayed by your side until the end of time. And you know full well that its too late for that now. 
Renjun doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t have to, you know what he’s thinking. How dare you refuse to spend an eternity with him, then complain about your eternity being lonely? He simply gets up from his chair, pats out his jeans a bit, and rejoins the party. Leaving you alone– something he said, and you knew, you’d always be.
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mydearesthrry · 1 year ago
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right back home to you - h.s.
a/n: had a hard time deciding if i wanted to put this out since im not too happy with the outcome but i wanted to feed u guys. in the future ill probably go back in and edit it but for now i hope you all enjoy this little angsty girl xx im also working on part 2 of love in secret !!!!!!!!!! she should be out fairly soon <3
wc: 4.8k
warnings: none, angst, fluff, flight anxiety
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“Hello? ‘M home,” Harry shouted into the cold house. Not that he would even notice, but the air was dull and the atmosphere was still, hues in the normally vibrant house now gray and lifeless. “Baby?” 
“Oh, hi Harry,” A dulcet smile was on her face as she walked around the corner with sweatpants and a baggy hoodie on, a baseball cap on top of her head. She had her dirty and beat up air forces on her feet that Harry loved to make fun of, small dollops of paint on the soles of the shoe. She also had a pair of sunnies that lay stagnant on the dark blue visor, a tell tale sign for Harry that she was going out. “I didn’t hear you come home.” 
Harry hummed, holding his arms out for her to walk into. She did, but only embraced him with half of her body, one arm curling around his waist loosely while the other stayed swaying by her side. In both of their opinions, it was way too short to even be considered a hug, not even close to being an embrace, but Y/N did it purposely. Harry frowned, feeling a twinge of hurt at her unusual lack of affection. “Um… Are y- are y’going out?” 
She laughed falsely, shaking her head and turning her body to face the large windows in their apartment. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 
Harry was still confused. “What d’you mean?” 
It’s now or never, Y/N thought, and mustered her bravest smile as she pivot turned to face him again. “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m going up to New York to stay with Eliza. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll be sure to let you know in advance, is that okay?” 
A few beats pass, Harry staring at her in disbelief. “What the fuck? No, no, s’not okay! Why- why are y’leaving? Y’didn’t even tell me? When were you planning on telling me y’were leaving?” 
“I’ve been planning on leaving for a long time, Harry. I was actually meant to leave before you even got home, really, but you’re early.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple and knowing the fight that was about to ensue. 
“Why are y’leaving?” Harry’s voice started to grow in volume, becoming harder and harsher as he tightened his hands into balled fists, trying to channel his feelings in another way rather than yelling at his girlfriend. 
“I’m leaving because I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I cant keep arguing with you every day, it’s just not fair to me. And it’s not fair to you either, really, so I’m just… taking the stress off of the both of us and making the bold decision to leave.” She explains, moving to grab her suitcases from the hallway and roll them into the living room. 
“That’s wha’ this is about? The fight we had last night?” He asks, eyes widening and mouth drying at the sight of her multiple suitcases. 
“Um— not entirely, I guess. I’ve meant to go up to visit Eliza, if you remember, we were going to but you had um— a party, that you needed to attend. So I just decided to book a flight last night after you went to sleep.” She's as quiet as a mouse, her words not staggering but it was physically obvious that she was nervous. 
“So what now? Is that it? You’re just… throwing away four years of my- of our fucking life?” Harry spat. She’d started to shrink into herself quite a bit, sweaty palms running over the now warm black handle of her small suitcase. 
“I’m not throwing away anything, Harry. We had a fight, you and I both said some nasty things, and I’m just going up to my sister's house for a little bit to clear my head. Like I said, I was meaning to go up anyway. This isn’t really about you, Harry, as much as you think it might be. I’ve been miserable here all alone and all I want is to be with someone who I know can provide me with love and attention right now, which is what I need. You need it too.” She tried to hold her ground but the tremble in her soft voice made her feel weak. 
She and Harry had gotten into a multitude of arguments within the past weeks that he had been off tour. It started from little things, like a sock being thrown over the laundry basket and not inside of it, or one of them leaving their dirty tea mugs on the counter when the sink was right there! But as small and insignificant as these things were, they also grew into arguments about bigger issues. One of the more nasty arguments had pushed her to pack her bags and book a plane ride up to her sister’s house in New York. 
The argument on the table this time around was that whenever Harry was home after an elongated amount of time on the road, he would treat Y/N as if she was his friend and not girlfriend of three years. She’d had a problem with this seeing as all she ever wanted him to do was love her and take care of her, and for some reason she couldn’t help but feel he found that hard. 
“Bullshit. I know y’leaving ‘cause your feelings got hurt or whatever, but you know y’don’t have to leave, pup. We can resolve this, don’t we always?” He grumbles, taking a few small steps forward to meet her where she stood by the door. 
“It’s entirely different this time, Harry.” She sighed, bending down to sit on the floor since she knew they’d probably be there for a while. 
“How?! How could this be any fuckin’ different? We’re jus’ arguin’ are we not?” Harry runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying to channel his energy away from his voice. Though he tried to refrain from allowing his anger to seep its way into his voice, his girlfriend could still pick up on the edge that lined his vocal chords. 
“No, baby. We aren’t just arguing. This is me trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep pushing it aside. So this isn’t just us arguing anymore, I guess I’m surrendering. I’m tired of doing this with you whenever you’re home, Harry. I’m alone every day, 24/7, and then you come home and it’s like nothing has changed. Which I love, I love how we can just bounce back, but sometimes I need more love or attention when you come back, and I just…” She starts to gnaw on her lips, trying to word her next thought carefully. “I’m tired of being treated like your friend rather than your girlfriend.” 
“What?” 
“Mhm. Besides me being alone all the time, whenever I do have you— or people around, you only ever want to keep me at arms length. The whole world knows we’re together, Harry. You’ve posted on my birthday and it’s no secret to anyone anymore. I… I just can’t understand why you do that, really. It makes me feel like I’m just your friend and not your lover.” She pauses, inhaling a sharp breath of air and willing her tears away. 
“What do you— what do you even mean? I’m always with you whenever I’m home, I bring y’everywhere w’me?” His anger just kept growing and growing, but this time he noticed that the weight of guilt that was sitting on his heart had gotten heavier with every breath he took, the weight of the pull almost being able to bring him to his knees.
She lets out a wet laugh, shaking her head before dropping it in defeat. “Harry… I hate to bring it up but— you’ve been home for what, three weeks now? We haven’t had sex, we barely have cuddled, you don’t put your arm around me in public or kiss my cheek. I— I feel like I’m losing you. It’s so hard to love you when you won’t let me. I’ve tried to be understanding and just trying to accept the fact that you’re readjusting to our normal life but… I miss you. The only time we talk for longer than a few minutes is when we fight, and that’s not okay. You know how much you mean to me, but I just can’t keep trying to love someone you aren’t anymore. It’s just too destructive to me and I just can’t. I’m sorry, Harry. I hope you can understand, and I’ll be back whenever we’re ready.” 
Harry’s now shaking with sobs. Uncontrollable, messy, heartbreaking sobs. Her words were finally making sense to him. All of the arguments had finally made sense. She was arguing with him just so he would talk to her. He thought he could die with the amount of guilt squeezing his heart right now. 
“I love you, isn’t that enough?” He whispered. 
“I don’t think it is anymore, Harry.” Lifting herself up to her feet, she rolls her suitcase to stand behind her, taking a few small steps to be inches away from her Harry. “I’ll be back, H. I promise.” 
Placing a kiss to his wet cheek, he watched her walk away with a damp smile, and against his will, engrained the image of her leaving to his mind. 
This wasn’t how he imagined they would end. 
He didn’t even entertain the thought of them ever ending; but now he feels like he just lost every single atom of his being in the quickest of moments. 
It was hell. 
Harry could say with full conviction that it was absolute hell to be in that house, that big house on the beach, alone. 
Nothing felt right. From the second he woke up in the morning, to the minute he slid his legs under the covers at night, he almost felt nauseous because of how unusual he felt. How unusual everything felt. 
And it was all his fault. 
Picking up his phone, he goes to text his sweet girl again when he decides to scroll up to find the reprieve of gray amongst the sea of blue. 
Harry: Please text me when you land. 
Harry: I love you, please don’t forget that. 
Harry: Take all the time you need, Angel. I’m here if you need me. I’m so sorry.
Harry: I’ll be waiting for you when you get home. Just say the word and I’ll get you a ticket. 
Harry: Take your time though, please be safe. I love you.
Harry: Again
Y/N: just landed. kinda busy rn, talk to you later bug
Harry: That’s okay, be safe. ❤️
Y/N loved this message
Harry: I love you 
Y/N: yeah love you too h
Allowing his head to drop onto the back of the sofa, his arm fell limp onto his thigh, his green eyes scanned the interior of the living room, twinges of pain and guilt panting in his chest whenever he’d land his gaze on something that was proprietarily hers. 
Her growing orchids in a handmade pot that they’d painted together on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. 
The godawful mirror she thrifted from a random corner store back in her hometown that she begged Harry to put up. 
A small canvas filled with tiny paintings of inside jokes and memorable dates that she gifted to him last Christmas. He allowed himself to trace over that painting for a little longer than the rest of the small things placed among their living room. 
11/29/19. The first time they met. 
1/16/21. When Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. 
4/07/21. The first time they said I love you. 
12/25/22. When Harry surprised Y/N on Christmas with a down payment on a house. The one he was now residing in, alone. 
A red convertible figurine, the car they first kissed in. 
A coffee cup and a teacup, symbolizing the first date they went on, where he learned she hates tea and preferred coffee, which led to an argument on whether coffee or tea was better. 
A small tulip, representing the first bouquet of flowers he ever bought her. 
And a small pearl ring, an exact replica of the promise ring Harry had given her on their 3 year anniversary. 
He didn’t even notice the streaks of tears beginning to run down his face until he felt a teardrop fall onto his inner wrist, making him look down. 
But as he canvassed the room once more, he perked up at the sight of a small snow globe that she brought him back from New York, and that was when he got an idea. He knew it was dramatic, and a bit of a stretch, but who said he wouldn’t go to extreme lengths to get his soulmate back?
Yeah, no one ever. 
To: Eliza
Harry: Hey Liz, got a sec?
Harry hated flying alone. 
Since he was a teenager and stepped foot on his first plane, he was anxious even being next to someone he barely knew even though his friends were two seats away. Though he would claim that he’s always been a bit anxious and just chalking it up to flight anxiety, he knew that the real reason why he hated flying alone was because he always feared that something bad would happen on the ground when he was in the air and vice versa, and that was always his greatest vice. 
His hands began to tremble nervously as he looked out the window of the airplane, seeing nothing but fluffy white on the exterior and the soft red light of the aircraft’s wings blinking every so often. His headphones were placed over his head, smushing his curls down flat onto his head, a mask covering the bottom half of his face. His hood was pulled up as well, trying to conceal himself as much as possible. He hadn’t brought much, just a little carry on and a small tote to shove under the seat in front of him. It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t be there for a long while, but he brought the keys to his apartment in New York anyway. 
He kept his head hung in nausea, the speed of his shaking hands increasing tenfold. The pit in his stomach grew and he had to beg his own body to allow his eyes to not stray to the window next to him. Sure, he could close it, but he feared if it was too dark he would become more anxious than he was right now. The mask covering the bottom half of his face now felt constricting— as if he was being suffocated by the thin layer of fabric. The light douse of perfume that danced around the sunflower print of the mask couldn’t even distract him, and it only pained him more that his senses were fully encompassed by her. He bit down on his lip to distract himself by the whirling feeling of nausea that now swirled around in his throat, willing away the sick that begged to come out.
The rest of the flight was the same, his anxiety only decreasing when he allowed himself to take a small nap. However, when he woke up, his nerves had heightened when he flickered his gaze from the window to the screen in front of him, reading only 20 minutes until he was set to touch down. Grasping his phone from his hoodie pocket, he aligned it to his face then rolling his eyes when he remembered he had a mask on. Lowering his phone he typed in his password— Y/N’s birthday— and pulled up their messages again. 
Harry: Good morning baby. I love you. I hope you have a good day today!! 
Y/N: thanks h love you
He couldn’t lie and say that her being short with him didn’t hurt his feelings, because it did. He wasn’t going to avoid the fact, but that didn’t mean that he liked it regardless. He felt like a fool checking his phone so often, especially when he knew that she wouldn’t be making an effort to reach out first, but he could be hopeful, right? 
At least that’s what he’s telling himself. 
The plane landed safely, nerves rolling off of his back in waves and he was more than happy to leave his flight anxiety on the floor of the plane, relieved to not be miles high in the air. There was a lull that was obvious to Harry, and he felt himself switch to function in autopilot, waiting mindlessly to enter the aisle to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment. 
The nippy New York air was the first thing to snap Harry out of his trance. Looking down at his phone, he felt a soft buzz and soon after felt his heart beat almost fast enough to eject from his chest. 
Y/N: saw this in a store earlier, thought of u
Y/N: Attachment: 1 Image 
Eliza: waiting near terminal b for you, lmk when you get outside 
Harry: I’m outside, can you see me?
Eliza: yep. be there in a sec
Swiping out of Y/N’s sisters messages, he went to click on Y/N’s before a black car stopped in front of him, averting his attention from his device to the car that just screeched to a halt. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he trudged forward and grabbed onto the door handle, prying it open and avoiding Eliza’s deathly stare. “Um- hiiii.” 
She scoffed. “Hi, H.” 
He throws his tote to his feet, awkwardly buckling himself in and turned in his seat, avoiding eye contact but making sure she knew that conversation was open if she’d wanted to make it. “How— um… How are you?”
Silence follows his words for a few seconds, making him heat up in embarrassment. “Good.” 
“Oh- that’s good… I, um— haven't seen y’in quite a while, Lizzy,” He says softly, guilt evident in his voice. “I missed you.” 
Eliza was basically Gemma’s best friend. They were attached at the hip the first time they met, bonding over being the eldest sisters, and shared secrets. Y/N and Harry’s family had always been interconnected, close with each other even if Y/N and Harry lacked that communication. 
They were basically soul tied in every sense of the phrase. 
“Yeah, I missed you too, H. But,” Eliza starts. “You’ve been a right dick to my sister.” 
“I know,” He whispers. 
“Do you? Fuck, H, my fucking baby sister came to me crying because of you. And you know how much I love you, truly, you know I do, but I love her more. So, I just have to ask,” She pauses, gnawing on her lip and clicking her blinker on to signal her turn. “What the hell happened?” 
“I,” He sniffs, trying to contain his emotions already begging to come out. “I don’t know.” 
Eliza snorts. “Bullshit.” 
“I— I really don’t, Lizzy. I guess I was really in m’head about… well, everything. I lo- love her so much,” Harry’s voice cracks, his facade shattering into more microscopic pieces than the most delicate sheet of glass ever could. 
“I know you do, H. That’s why this is so confusing to me. To Gems. And most importantly, to Y/N. What happened, Curly? How’d we lose you?” She begs, trying to get him to explain where he was mentally. She loved him as she would Y/N, which was the hardest part. It hurt her as much as it hurt him to confront him about the issue. 
“I don’t want her to hate me! Okay?” Harry sobs, chin falling to his chest in weakness. “I don’t want her t’hate me for being away all the time, and I’m so fucking scared. ‘M scared because the press is doing nothing but talking bad about me and I don’t know if I can equally protect her as much as she does me when this happens. When it happens t’me I jus’ ignore it, but I know she can’t do that. I know it, Lizzy, and so d’you.” 
“I know, H. I know.” She whispers. 
“I jus’ wanted to keep her as far away as I could so that if she did decide she didn’t want me anymore, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He murmurs so quietly, he himself even doubts if he said it out loud. 
Silence followed the rest of the car ride, the only sound filling the space of the vehicle being the soft splatter of rain on the glass windows and windshield, paired with the crackly static of the stereo. The sun even seemed to be hiding away, the sky dark with clouds, little to no light making an appearance to greet Harry’s arrival. 
Pulling up to her driveway, Eliza parked the car, keeping her ignition on so she could drive away after Harry got into the house. Turning to Harry, she chewed on her bottom lip as she traced his side profile with her eyes. “You need to tell her exactly what you told me. Word for word, Harry. You can’t keep her in the dark. She doesn’t even know I went to pick you up. So, just promise me that you’ll tell her exactly what you told me.” 
“I promise.” Harry’s voice cracked in a broken whisper, vocal cords thrumming against each other as if they were rusted. “Love you, Lizzy. Thank you.”
Stepping out of the car, he knocked on the door thrice, and tapped softly on the doorbell for good measure. His hands had gone cold with anxiousness, but he wrote it off as the stark cold weather of New York. 
“Harry? Oh my god, baby, get inside,” Y/N pulled him in immediately, pushing his thick puffer jacket off of him that was shiny with rainwater, hands coming up to pull his baby blue beanie from his hair, revealing his soft curls. They shared no words as she pulled him to the living room, where she sat the both of them down and covered the length of their torsos and legs with a big fluffy blanket. Y/N didn’t waste a second before she threw her legs over his thighs, grabbing his hands and rubbing over the cold and cracked red skin, trying to exude as much warmth from her own as much as she could. 
She’s always been warm. 
Her hands have always been graced with heat and more significantly, she always tended to carry around an aura as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug with her wherever she went. Bringing their hands up to his lips, he presses kisses all over the back of hers, kissing her knuckles and fingertips that moved erratically over his own. She could feel the dry chap of his lips on her hands and down to her wrists but she didn’t care. She didn’t mind one bit. She would rather commit the feeling of his lips on her hands to memory rather than not know what they felt like at all. 
“What’re you doing here, baby?” She asks, concern etched in her face as she lifts her head to look at him, her movements on his hands not staggering or slowing. 
“Came t’see you,” He whispers weakly. “Couldn’t bear it. I need t’see you, hold y’again… Fuck, do jus’ about anything to be near y’again.” 
Her heart twisted with the most intense emotion that she could only describe as heartbreak. “You— you got on a plane by yourself just to come see me?” 
“Would do jus’ about anything f’you, sweet girl. Of course I would go on a plane jus’ by myself if it meant I could hold you.” He admitted. He avoided eye contact with her, keeping his eyes trained on their conjoined hands that now lay stagnant on the soft fabric of the blanket. 
“Harry,” She whispers. “Why are you here, my love?” 
“I felt too guilty t’let you leave like that,” He says, gnawing on his bottom lip to will away the tears begging to escape. “I couldn’t let y’go without telling y’I loved you. And I didn’t…” He pauses, struggling for air as he over explained. “I didn’t even explain m’self. I didn’t tell you I loved you. I didn’t kiss y’back. I didn’t even tell y’to be safe.” 
He’s fully sobbing now, Y/N tracing his side profile with his eyes, jittering with fear and anxiety. “It’s okay, hey, baby, listen,” Grabbing his chin with the tips of her fingers, she turns his head to hers, resting his forehead atop of hers. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just needed time to think and I didn’t want to lash out on you because I didn’t have time to. We’re okay, baby. I promise.” 
He shook his head while she spoke, tears falling on the fluff of the blanket with every movement. His eyes were clenched as if he was in pain, and uneven erratic breaths fell from his mouth. “Nonono. I should— should’ve listened to you. I did- didn’t mean t’treat y’like tha’,” Harry’s accent had gotten heavier with how much emotion he was feeling, stumbling over his words as if he was drunk. 
“And I should’ve explained myself more. It’s not your fault, H. Please baby, breathe,” She begged, tightening her grip on his hands as she pleaded with her nose slotted next to his, every whispered beg pushing her lips forward to lightly brush against his raw-bitten ones. “There, that’s it.” 
His breaths began to even out, just the slightest bit. His hands still shook dramatically, veins in his neck that once protruded from the force of his cries now retracting. “I’m sorry.” 
“Harry, stop apolog-“ 
“No. I have t’say this before I leave because if I don’t, I don’t think I ever will. I— I didn’t mean t’push y’away. I was trying to protect m’self but I didn’t see that it was hurting y’too. It wasn’t my intention, and now I realize it wasn’t the right thing t’do.” He sniffles, pulling back from her face to hold eye contact for the utmost emphasis on his words. 
“I tried to keep you far away because if you ended up resenting me for being away all the time it would hurt less if you decided to leave me. Paired with everything that’s being said in the media about m’right now, I tried t’keep y’as far away as I could so that if everything came crashing down on me, I would’ve had to cope with losing y’less than everything else. And I kept picking fights with y’so that if— or when y’got too fed up w’me, you’d leave me yourself instead of something else forcing y’to leave me. I think it was all subconscious, seeing how I freaked out on y’when y’told me you were leaving. I guess I didn’t really prepare myself for when it was really going t’happen. I’m really, really sorry, Angel. I really do hope y’can forgive me.” 
She’s silent. It scares him, he can’t lie. He takes her silence as an answer and pulls his hands from her grasp and moves her legs softly off of his thighs, standing up and brushing off his pants in an attempt to stall. She’s still mute, and he takes it as his cue to go. There’s still tears streaming down his face, but they’re silent. Like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that they’re falling at all. 
“I love you.” He whispers, before turning and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he turns it, and his heart follows the motion with a sharp twist that he thinks he feels in his entire body. He’s gnawing in his lip to avoid breaking down in front of her, even though she’s arguably seen him at his worst and most vulnerable times. Opening the door, he’s greeted with the harsh cold air, biting at his skin so aggressively he feels like his tears have now frozen to his face. Bearing the pain, he forced himself to take the step out the doorway and onto the porch, on autopilot as he let his feet decide his motions. 
“Harry, wait,” Y/N pleaded, running out behind him, meeting him in the middle of the driveway in nothing but tiny shorts and a stolen crewneck of his that she'd haphazardly stuffed into her luggage. “I love you. I love you more than I could probably ever explain, and I— I just need you to know that. If you’re done with me or done with this, that’s okay, I just need you to know that I love you.” 
“I love you. Always.” He whispers, lips trembling with sadness. 
“You know I always will, right?” She asks, placing a warm hand onto his wet and cold cheek.
“I know, baby. I do.” He says. 
“I’m here whenever you want me. I promise.” She pleads, coming up to reach his lips, placing a soft kiss to his cold ones. 
“Come home, please.” 
“Always, H. I’ll always come right back home to you.”
542 notes · View notes
newobsessionweekly · 1 year ago
Text
Let me fix this
Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist
Metro!Tim Bradford x Metro!reader
Fandom: The Rookie
Summary: Two years after Tim broke up with you, you meet again on his first day at Metro.
Warnings: mentions of heartache, breakup, harsh words, swearing? not proofread yet ?
Angst
Requested: Yes, kind of
Words: still counting
Tags: @moneyy-21
GIF not mine, credits to the owner
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The room feels suffocating as you dig through the forgotten corners of your closet, searching for something misplaced. Your fingers brush against the cool surface of a small box tucked away amidst a pile of old clothes. Pulling it out, you lift the lid, revealing a treasure trove of memories.
Photos, ticket stubs, and trinkets from days long gone stare back at you, each one a reminder of a chapter in your life that prematurely ended.
Your heart skips a beat as you stumble upon the photo you used to love so much, buried beneath layers of nostalgia. It's a snapshot frozen in time, capturing a moment of pure happiness between you and Tim. Dressed in your LAPD uniforms, you're locked in a tender embrace, lips pressed together in a kiss that speaks volumes of the love you once shared. The wide smiles on your faces are a stark contrast to the pain that now grips your heart.
The photo feels like a cruel joke, taunting you with memories of a love that was supposed to last a lifetime. Tears well up in your eyes as you trace the outline of Tim's face, the warmth of his smile a bittersweet reminder of what once was.
Your heart was racing as you hold his hands tightly, a smile playing on your lips. You've been together for what feels like forever, talking about your future, about marriage, about kids. But suddenly, something feels off.
"Hey, baby. What happened? Are you okay?" you ask as you reach out to touch his cheek gently.
Tim's eyes betray a storm brewing within him as he looks at you, his grip tightening on your hands. "I lied about everything. I just lied to two men I deeply respect, OK? I just betrayed everything I thought was right about myself. So no, I'm not okay."
Confusion washes over you, mingling with a sense of unease. You squeeze his hands gently, hoping to provide some comfort and reassurance. "I would have done the same thing if I was in your place. You were wrong, but you made it right, so it's fine."
But Tim's expression remains grave. "No, it's not. And you wouldn't have been in my place. You never would have put self-interest over your team."
You swallow hard, trying to understand. "Tim..." Your voice trails off.
He shakes his head, his voice strained. "No, no. You got to let me finish, OK? This is very hard for me to say."
Tears start to well up in your eyes as you nod, urging him to continue, your other hand reaching out to cup his cheek gently, trying to offer him comfort in any way you can.
"Y/N, I've been lying to myself for a long time. That's clear to me now, and I can't-- I can't just go back to the way things were. Not right now. Maybe never," Tim confesses, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours as he leans in closer.
Your heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces. "Wait. Are you breaking up with me?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips, your breath mingling with his as you hold onto him desperately.
Tim's gaze softens, filled with a sorrow you've never seen before. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
"No, no. You don't-- you don't get to do that. You don't get to push me away, not let me be by your side and then use that as an excuse to leave me, OK? That's not OK," you protest, desperation creeping into your voice.
Tim's eyes are filled with regret as he reaches out to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "I know, I know," he whispers, his touch gentle against your skin.
"What you're doing is not okay. Don't do this to me," you plead, your voice trembling as your hands were clinging to him as if he's the only anchor in a stormy sea.
"I'm sorry," Tim repeats, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, his lips brushing against your temple in a silent apology. "You– you are incredible, okay?"
You shake your head, unable to comprehend what's happening, your body shaking with sobs as you bury your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he's slipping away.
"No, Tim... Don't do this. Why are you doing this?" you cry out, feeling like your world is collapsing around you, your fingers clutching desperately at the fabric of his shirt.
"You deserve so much better. That's why I'm walking away," Tim says, his voice barely audible as he stands up, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your shattered heart and a million questions left unanswered, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin.
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The past two years had been a whirlwind of heartache and longing since the breakup. Each day felt like a battle against memories that refused to fade and emotions that refused to be tamed. So, when you landed a position at Metro, it felt like a lifeline, a chance to escape the constant reminder of what could have been.
As you prepared for your shift, the Metro division buzzed with activity, a hive of energy and excitement. Your fellow officers bustled around, exchanging greetings and sharing snippets of their lives. You smiled at the familiar faces, grateful for the distraction they provided.
Your superior's voice rang out, breaking through the chatter. "Attention, everyone! We have a new recruit joining us today," she announced, her words drawing curious glances from your colleagues.
You turned your attention back to your preparations, trying to push aside the knot of nerves that had formed in your stomach. But as you glanced up, your heart skipped a beat — you never expected to come face to face with Tim again. But there he was, standing in the same room, his presence hitting you like a ton of bricks.
He catches your eye, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent exchange. His gaze is intense, filled with emotions you can't quite decipher, and for the first time in years, you find yourself unable to look away.
Seeing Tim's face again sent a surge of electricity through you. He looked even better than you remembered – all rugged and hot, with that stubble on his jaw making him look dangerously sexy. And those lips, once the source of endless kisses, now held a serious expression that only fueled the flames of your longing. It was his eyes that captured your attention and held it captive. Deep pools of blue, they seemed to pierce through your soul, stirring emotions you thought long buried.
Tim in that Metro uniform was like a jolt of electricity, sparking a fire of desire within you that you hadn't felt in ages. The fabric clung to his body in all the right places, showing off his muscles and making you feel all warm and tingly inside. His shoulders looked broad and strong, his chest firm and inviting, and every move he made just seemed to make you want him more. He walked with this confidence that was so damn sexy, like he owned the place.
You realized with a pang that you had never truly moved on, that you had been fooling yourself into thinking you could bury your feelings for him. The sight of him brought back a flood of emotions you had tried so hard to suppress, reminding you that some wounds never truly heal.
Tim couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight before him. You looked different, changed somehow, yet still undeniably beautiful.
Your eyes, once filled with laughter, now seemed tired, as if they had seen too much. But they still held that sparkle that had always drawn him in, like they were sharing a secret only he could understand. Your lips, once always curled into a smile, now held a hint of sadness, but they were still as soft and inviting as ever, making him want to reach out and kiss them just like he used to.
And as his gaze trailed down your body, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. The way your uniform hugged your curves, accentuating every contour, sent a pulsing wave of desire through him. He remembered how it felt to hold you close, to run his hands over the curve of your waist, and the memory made his heart ache with longing.
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Days passed, and it became painfully clear to Tim that you were avoiding him like the plague ever since he joined Metro. Every encounter felt like stepping on eggshells, your attitude frosty and distant, making his training sessions feel more like a battle of wills than anything else.
"You're late, Bradford," you snapped one morning, your voice cutting through the air like a whip as he entered the training room.
Tim clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. "Sorry ma'am, got held up with paperwork," he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Your eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing your features. "Excuses won't cut it here, Bradford. If you can't handle the workload, maybe Metro isn't the place for you," you retorted, your words like daggers aimed straight at his heart.
Tim felt his temper flare, but he bit back the retort that threatened to spill from his lips. He knew it wouldn't do any good to escalate the situation further.
From the moment he stepped into the training room, you were on him like a hawk, scrutinizing his every move with a critical eye. Your instructions were sharp and unforgiving, your expectations sky-high.
You pushed him to his limits and beyond, demanding nothing short of perfection in everything he did.
For Tim it was like diving into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. Each day was a whirlwind of sweat, sore muscles, and frustration, all thanks to you, who seemed determined to push him to his breaking point. But he refused to crack. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, determined to prove himself worthy of being at Metro, no matter how hard you tried. And it was frustrating, for both of you.
The tension between you and Tim was palpable, a thick cloud of grudges that hung in the air whenever you were in the same room. Your fellow officers couldn't help but notice the frosty exchanges and sharp words that passed between you, like sparks flying in a tinderbox.
Despite the urging of your colleagues to bury the hatchet, neither of you were willing to back down. Every interaction was fraught with tension, each word laced with bitterness and resentment.
"You really think you belong here, Bradford?" you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you glared at him.
Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger. "I belong here just as much as you do, Y/L/N," he shot back, his tone defiant.
The cruel words flew back and forth, each one cutting deeper than the last. But beneath the anger and pain, there was a passion between you that refused to be extinguished. It was a fire that burned bright, fueled by years of history and unspoken feelings.
Despite everything, there was a magnetic pull between you that neither of you could deny. It was a connection that had only grown stronger with time, a testament to the depth of your emotions and the intensity of your bond.
When tensions reached a boiling point, one of your closest colleagues, seeing the toll your treatment was taking on Tim, pulled you aside for a private conversation.
"Y/N, can I have a word?" his voice was gentle, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern.
You nodded tersely, already bracing yourself for whatever lecture he had in store.
"I know things between you and Bradford are... complicated," he began carefully, choosing his words with precision. "But you're making his training unnecessarily difficult. He's a good cop, and he deserves a fair chance."
Your jaw clenched at the mention of Tim's name, but you remained silent, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in his words.
"He's struggling, Y/N," he continued, "Maybe it's time to put aside your personal feelings and give him a break."
You scoffed, unable to hide your bitterness. "He doesn't deserve a break," you snapped, "He's not Metro material, and he never will be."
The officer sighed, his expression one of disappointment. "I thought you were better than this, Y/N," he said quietly before walking away, leaving you alone with your stubborn pride and the weight of your own unresolved emotions.
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Tim stood tall in front of his team, his posture commanding as he barked orders at the officers under his command. He radiated authority, his voice firm and unwavering as he prepared you for the mission ahead.
"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Tim's voice rang out, commanding the attention of the officers under his command. "We've got a hostage situation at the bank downtown. We move in fast, we move in hard, and we get those hostages out safely. Understood?"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his words, your frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was bad enough that you had to endure his presence every day at Metro, but now you had to take orders from him too?
As Tim's gaze landed on you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally speaking. "Y/N, you're with me," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
But you weren't about to let him call the shots. Not after everything that had happened between you. "I fly solo," you shot back.
Tim's expression hardened, hurt flashing in his eyes for just a moment before he composed himself. "Suit yourself," he muttered, his jaw clenched with frustration.
As Tim barked out commands over the radio, everyone on the team fell into line, following his lead without question. But you, stubborn as ever, chose to go your own way, defying orders and doing what you knew best.
"Y/N, I need you to fall back and cover our six," Tim's voice crackled over the radio, his tone firm but tinged with frustration.
You gritted your teeth, ignoring his orders as you continued with your part of the mission. The sound of Tim's voice grated on your nerves, fueling the fire of resentment burning within you.
"Y/N, do you copy?" Tim's voice came through again, more insistent this time.
You rolled your eyes, shutting off your radio with a flick of your thumb. You didn't need Tim's constant nagging in your ear; you knew what you were doing.
The mission dragged on, tension thick in the air as the stakes grew higher with each passing moment. Despite your defiance, Metro emerged victorious, completing the mission with flying colors. As the team regrouped, Tim congratulated everyone on a job well done, his voice dripping with pride.
"You all did a phenomenal job out there today," Tim began, "and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of you."
The team exchanged smiles and nods, basking in the glow of Tim's praise. But when his gaze landed on you, the warmth in his eyes was noticeably absent, replaced instead by a simmering tension that seemed to hang in the air like a tornado.
"Except you, Y/N," Tim continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "You acted recklessly out there, disobeying orders and putting the entire team at risk. You're lucky we came out of this in one piece."
You bristled at his words, anger bubbling up inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. "I did what needed to be done," you shot back, "I know what I'm doing, Bradford."
Tim's jaw clenched, his frustration evident in the way his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You think you can just do whatever the hell you want out there?" he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Well, let me tell you something, Y/N. This isn't about you. It's about the team, and you need to start acting like it. You put everyone at risk."
"I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to do my job."
The air crackled with tension, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. And as you stood there, locked in a battle of wills with Tim, you couldn't help but feel a surge of something else stirring deep within you.
"Dammit, Y/N, why are you so stubborn?"
"Why am I stubborn?" you shot back, your own anger fueling the fire between you.
Your hand reached up to push him away, palms resting on his chest, but your touch lingered, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of his uniform against your fingertips and you couldn't move them away.
"Maybe because you never listen to me, Tim. Why do you always have to think you know what's best for me?"
Tim's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Because I care about you, damn it!" he retorted, "I never stopped caring for you."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his gaze, the intensity of his stare threatening to consume you whole. "And what if I don't want you to protect me?" you challenged.
Pausing for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desire, you closed the distance between you, your lips hovering just inches apart.
"Stop trying to protect me," you murmured, your breath mingling with his. "I don't need you. I stopped doing that the second you walked away."
Tim's grip tightened on your waist, his eyes searching yours with a fierce intensity. "I never stopped loving you," he confessed, "I was a fool, alright? I know and I regret every single moment for leaving you."
"Lies," you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. But despite your words, you couldn't deny the longing that pulsed through your veins, the ache in your heart that yearned for him.
"Let me fix this," Tim pleaded, his voice desperate as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek.
"Two years, Tim..." you trailed off, "And what's even worse is that I love you even more."
Your words faded into a whisper, lost in the haze of desire that clouded your mind. And before you knew it, Tim was closing the distance between you, his hands reaching out to cup your face as he pressed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.
The world fell away as the kiss deepened, passion igniting between you like a wildfire. Years of pent-up longing and desire poured into the kiss, each touch, each caress, speaking volumes of the love that had never truly faded.
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nameless-jamie · 3 months ago
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NOT LIKE HIM
Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader
Masterlist
TW: cursing, angst, crying
Y/N woke up to an empty bed.
At first, in the haze of half-sleep, she thought maybe Jamie had just shifted in his sleep, rolling away from her like he sometimes did when he got too warm. But when she reached out, her fingers met nothing but the cool emptiness of the sheets, the space beside her void of his warmth. She frowned, blinking blearily at the clock on the bedside table—3:27 AM—before sitting up and rubbing at her tired eyes.
It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to get up in the middle of the night. He had bouts of restlessness, times when sleep didn’t come easy to him. Sometimes, he’d go downstairs and watch old match replays with the volume barely above a whisper, analyzing every movement, every play, because his mind never truly shut off when it came to football. Other nights, he’d be stretching in the living room, claiming he needed to “stay loose” at all times, even at ungodly hours of the night.
But something about tonight felt different.
There was no sound coming from the TV. No soft grunts of effort from Jamie pushing himself into a stretch that most normal people wouldn’t attempt at this hour. No quiet rustling in the kitchen, no faint hum of a late-night snack being made. Instead, the house was eerily still, a suffocating sort of silence wrapping around her.
Then, she heard it.
A noise so faint she almost missed it—a quiet, choked breath, like someone was desperately trying to keep themselves together and failing.
Her stomach twisted.
Kicking off the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling Jamie’s hoodie over her head before padding out of the room. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she moved down the hallway, following the barely-there sound like a thread pulling her forward.
When she reached the staircase, she spotted the faint glow of the living room lamp, its dim light barely spilling into the hallway.
And then she saw him.
Jamie was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the couch, his knees drawn up, arms resting limply over them. His head was bowed, his hands clenched into the fabric of his sweats, his entire body curled inward like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His shoulders trembled with each ragged breath he took, and when she stepped closer, she saw the way his jaw was clenched, like he was fighting a losing battle to keep it all in.
Her heart ached at the sight of him like this.
"Jamie?"
The moment the word left her lips, Jamie stiffened.
For a long second, he didn’t move, like he was debating whether or not to acknowledge her. Then, slowly, he swiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, as if he could erase the evidence of whatever storm had overtaken him before looking up at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes wet, and the vulnerability on his face was so raw that it made her chest tighten.
"Hey, love," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion. "Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you."
Y/N frowned, stepping closer. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," Jamie said quickly, sitting up straighter, shoulders pulling back. "Just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. Go back to bed, yeah? You need your rest."
That was when she realized—he wasn’t just trying to be strong for himself.
He was trying to be strong for her.
For their baby.
Her heart clenched at the thought.
"Jamie," she said softly, sitting beside him. "You don’t have to do this."
"Do what?" he asked, still holding onto that fragile mask.
"Act like you’re fine when you’re not," she murmured. "Not with me."
Jamie exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Babe, I just—look, I don’t wanna stress you out, alright? You should be restin’, not worryin’ about—"
Y/N didn’t let him finish.
She reached out, gently pressing her hand to his arm, her touch warm and steady. The second her fingers made contact, Jamie inhaled sharply, his whole body stiffening.
And then, just like that—
He broke.
A choked sound escaped him, and before she could say anything else, he was burying his face in his hands, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven gasps. His whole frame shook as he tried—and failed—to keep it together, and without hesitation, Y/N shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him.
That was all it took.
Jamie collapsed against her, his hands fisting the fabric of her hoodie, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. A strangled sob escaped him, muffled against her shoulder.
She held him tighter.
"I—" He cut himself off, swallowed hard, then tried again. "I’m scared."
She frowned. "Scared of what?"
His jaw tightened, his grip on her hand growing just a little stronger.
"I—I don’t wanna be like him," Jamie choked out, voice thick with emotion. "I don’t—I can’t—"
Y/N’s heart ached.
She didn’t have to ask who he meant. He was talking about his dad...
She just ran her fingers through his hair, soft and slow, grounding him. "Jamie, listen to me," she whispered. "You are nothing like him."
Jamie shook his head against her shoulder. "You don’t know that," he rasped. "I’ve got his fuckin’ blood in me, Y/N. What if—what if I end up like him? What if I—" His voice cracked. "What if I mess this up?"
Y/N pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, tilting it up so he had no choice but to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with so much fear and self-doubt that it made her chest tighten.
"You won’t," she said firmly, her thumbs brushing away the dampness on his cheeks. "Jamie, you are good. And you try so hard. You are not him. I know because I see you, Jamie. Every single day. I see the way you love, the way you care about people. You are kind and thoughtful and so fucking perfect. And you try—every damn day—to be better than what he taught you. That’s who you are."
Jamie swallowed hard, his breath still shaky. "But what if—"
"You won’t," she cut him off, pressing her forehead against his. "Because you choose to be different. Every single day, you choose to be better than what he was. You’re already better than him, Jamie."
Jamie let out a ragged breath, his grip on her hoodie loosening just slightly.
Y/N softened, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against his skin.
"You think I’d have fallen in love with someone like him?" she murmured.
That made Jamie pause.
He let out a shaky, broken laugh, one that still had the remnants of his tears in it. "Dunno," he mumbled. "You are a bit of a bad boy magnet."
Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "Yeah, but only the reformed ones."
Jamie huffed, but his body had started to relax, the worst of the storm passing.
Y/N brushed his hair back, her touch gentle. "Come back to bed, we miss you?"
Jamie hesitated, glancing at her stomach, at the tiny life growing inside her. Then, slowly, he nodded.
She led him upstairs, her hand in his, fingers laced together. When they reached the bed, Jamie curled around her, one hand resting over her stomach, his touch tentative but reverent.
"I love you," he murmured, his voice hoarse from crying.
Y/N smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"I love you too," she whispered.
And Jamie, safe in her arms, let himself believe it.
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rekkohane · 6 months ago
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Punch-out (catastrophic) christmas night headcanons bc why not
Glass Joe 🇫🇷
• He tried to cook turkey for everyone, ended up burning the oven for the 17th time. The deal? The turkey was undercooked. (Sorry but I genuinely CAN'T see this guy as someone who is good at cooking)
• Gave everyone christmas sweaters that everyone didn't mind wearing, it was sweaters insulting them so hard in french.
• Was told to NOT go into the kitchen ever again after burning the oven, and trying to put it out with water and also ended up burning the water.
• Literally was put under supervision so he wouldn't go to the kitchen because he kept trying to go.
• Had to watch MORE MORE JUMP songs with Sandman to kill time
Von Kaiser 🇩🇪
• Had to do most of the cooking with Hondo until Hondo had to leave, leaving Kaiser with the cooking duties until one of Tiger's clones came to help
• Had a panic attack when SMM played his awful song at full volume
• Brought cookies along with him, but before he could arrive, he slipped and the cookies fell down a hole, cried for the next 3 hours
• Was more mad about the fact that the turkey was somehow STILL undercooked and the water was burnt than anything else, turns out Joe forgot to put the turkey in the oven
• While he was cooking soup, Buddy the squirrel managed to sneak random shit in the food while Kaiser wasn't looking
• The banned from the kitchen toll increased to 2 after he caught buddy trying to put the spiciest chili in the food
Disco Kid 🇺🇸
• Played the wildest VOCALOID songs one could imagine because GUMI was in them, he terrified Hondo, also played 25ji songs
• Was BEGGING SMM to not play his song, unfortunately SMM played his song
• Spoiled everybody, but he forgot whose gift belonged to who so for example, bear hugger got stuff meant for Aran and Soda got stuff meant for Great Tiger and vice versa
• Was wearing that awful sweater Joe gave him thinking it meant 'the king of disco' even thought it actually said that no one gaf abt his trophies he gained from dancing
• Made FORCED the others to watch horror movies (definitely not to laugh his ass off at the way some boxers screamed)
• Accidentally put Buddy the Squirrel in Hippo's bag of chips
• Was dancing like he was in a nightclub, he was the only one dancing thought
• Had to calm Kaiser down during his panic attack while SMM's song was blasting
King Hippo (insert south pacific country flag here idk)
• Was pretty chill at first (keywords : at first)
• That was until Aran took his bag of chips because he ate like most of the bag of chips that was also meant for others
• Next thing, everyone was subjected to a loud, awful, scary, intense tantrum that lasted half an hour
• Eventually calmed down when Little Mac gave him another bag of chips
• Witnessed Joe literally getting thrown on Sandman's shoulder to get him out of the kitchen after trying to enter despite being banned and also screaming every sort of promise to not burn anything on accident ever again
• Mostly ended up being chill and pointed out the turkey was undercooked because Joe didn't put it in the oven
• Watched the horror movies like they were kids movies
Piston Hondo 🇯🇵
• Was HORRIFIED at some of the songs Disco Kid put in the radio, was literally about to faint at Composing the future being played
• Did some of the cooking, most of his time at the kitchen was to clean the mess that Joe made and that didn't last long because he had to go shopping with the rest of the major circuit
• Was screaming like he was the victim in the horror movie at literally every jumpscare, held onto Bear Hugger like he was an emotional support teddy bear, he ended up running out of the room after a certain jumpscare while screaming bloody murder and tripped 3 times in the process
• Also screamed at whoever's up there to stop SMM's music from playing, god he HATED Macho Man's newest song, the songs were all being hated on but it seems that Macho can't get the memo no one likes them.
• Was clinging into Bear Hugger all night, even when going shopping with the rest of the major circuit (he still hasn't gone over the jumpscare, he thought the ghost was gonna haunt him)
• While on the escalator in the mall, he tripped and first idea was to grab Bear Hugger, which made Bear slip, so Hondo tried to grab Tiger but grabbed his leg, Tiger lost his balance and grabbed Don who was applying his eyeliner and they all fell and rolled the way down on the escalator infront of everyone, some were laughing, some were trying to process what had happened in the span of 30 seconds. (Based on a true story btw)
• So basically, Hondo fell on Bear, Tiger teleported after he fell, and Don's eyeliner was ruined and he is forever angry at Hondo
• Hondo didn't see a wet floor sign and slipped, ended up crashing into a bunch of soup containers
• Tripped on the snow on the way home for good measure
• In short: Hondo had the worst day ever
Bear Hugger 🇨🇦
• Also spoiled everyone with gifts, mostly plushies and necklaces
• Was given a lucky clover by Disco that was meant for Aran
• Didn't realize that buddy the squirrel was not inside his beanie
• Didn't mind the horror movies, and was trying so hard not to laugh when Hondo started holding onto him like an emotional support teddy bear
• Started laughing his ass off with the others when Hondo ran out of the room
• Went shopping with the rest of the major circuit, completely oblivious to Hondo STILL clinging onto him while Tiger was trying to tell Hondo that no, that ghost wasn't going to haunt him
• When the entire circuit fell down the escalator, Bear got up like nothing happened while Hondo was mortified, Tiger was wondering wheter to stay or teleport home, and Don was outraged with everyone at first, now outraged only at Hondo
• Bear just got the things they needed at the store and a few extra stuff while Hondo gave the most sincere, genuine apology to the employees, and Tiger and Don were also getting some stuff for the other boxers
• After Hondo tripped in the snow, Bear had to hold him so he'll quit falling every 2 mins
Great Tiger 🇮🇳
• He's multitasking and using his clones, like one clone is cleaning a bit around, another clone is helping with the cooking, a clone is welcoming Carmen, while Great Tiger is with the major circuit
• Is technically the one who ruined Don's makeup, because he dragged him by the leg when they were all about to fall, but Tiger blamed everything on Hondo
• Tiger was getting the most random things in multiple stores, like he would have a birthday cake, then he would have a hairbrush, then a CD of weezer, just a bunch of stuff
• He went to the animal store and secretly opened the cages so actually a lot of animals escaped and were causing chaos, Bear saw it but continued his shopping like normal and Don and Hondo both jumped on different chairs and started screaming
• He managed to get away with it, and no one knows it's him
• One of his clone literally fucking washed Don's laptop and it hasn't been functioning ever since
Don Flamenco 🇪🇦
• He told Carmen that she should come visit and he overexaggerated things and said how it was gonna be the best christmas ever and how much she's gonna enjoy it, it turned out to be the opposite
• Had to supervise Joe so he wouldn't go to the kitchen and bother Kaiser until he was called by Hondo to do some christmas shopping, after Don left, Joe tried to go to the kitchen (again) and that was when Sandman threw him on his shoulder
• Don was ANGRY when after the escalator incident, his eyeliner was ruined and his face was stained with eyeliner, he screamed at everyone at first, then started screaming at Hondo saying how he was trying to look good for Carmen and he ruined everything (little did he know, Carmen didn't bother trying to look fancy, she just looked like her usual self, wearing the first thing she could find and still being messy asf)
• Screamed bloody murder when the animals went wild and was standing on a chair, and he broke the chair and started running
Aran Ryan 🇮🇪
• Is the reason why King Hippo threw a tantrum
• Was too busy drinking, and when he gets drunk, he tries to fight anything, this time he tried to fight the uncooked turkey and lost (they got a new turkey and it was cooked this time)
• Just slept around most of the time
• Drunkely told Sandman that Joe was trying to tresspass in the kitchen
• Tried to convince Carmen to leave and there was better places to be at than this mockery of a christmas night, but she just stayed for the chaos
• Ended up going outside and built a snowman
• Also saved the day by fighting the radio that played multiple Macho Man's songs, and winning this time and the radio was thankfully thrown out of the window
Soda Popinski 🇷🇺
• Was with Bald Bull and Bull was tired of Soda just drinking and being useless
• He screamed 'MERRY CHRISTMAS' at anyone unfortunate to pass by and wondered why everyone was scared of christmas
• Him and Little Mac ended up going to a nearby McDonald's where they spend most of their time to stay away from the chaos, except they didn't tell anyone and when Soda and Little Mac were gonna go home, they were greeted by police cars
• Bald Bull was mad at them and scolded them for like 2 hours
• Soda kept drinking and went to sleep early, they left some food for him
• Was filled in on everything that happened the next day
Bald Bull 🇹🇷
• He is getting closer to destroy somebody every passing second
• He is MAD at Super Macho Man who is blasting his songs
• He is taking all of his anger on twitter
• He scolded Little Mac and Soda for leaving and telling no one causing panic mode for everyone
• When SMM when outside, that's when Bald Bull jumped SMM
• Was told to put up the decorations, tripped and fucked everything up
Super Macho Man 🇺🇸
• Played so many of his songs and gave the boxers + Carmen a migraine
• Was praising his own music like it was the best thing ever
• Went on twitter and joked about Joe being 'grounded' after trying to sneak into the kitchen for the 23th time
• Literally almost all of the time, SMM was in his room making videos and flexing and getting trolled on the internet
• Took an interview online thinking he was gonna get casted in a commercial, it was actually just for some video to troll him
• Yapped about how everyone loves him (no one loves him)
• Ended up getting jumped by Bald Bull
• During dinner, he wouldn't stop talking, everyone was tired and told him to shut up in creative ways
• He got offended and tried to cancel everybody later on twitter, didn't go so well
Mr Sandman 🇺🇸
• Was mostly minding his business listening to Parasol Cider
• He was on a call with Mr. Dream when a very annoyed Kaiser told him to get Joe out of the kitchen
• Since Sandman believed the call was important, he just threw Joe on his shoulder while holding the phone and getting him out of the kitchen for good and talking to Mr. Dream at the same time
• Because Joe was dragged out by Sandman out of everyone, Joe didn't dare trying to sneak into the kitchen until dinner was done being cooked.
• He watched more MMJ content to kill time and to forget the chaos around him and Bull jumping SMM outside
• Overall stuff wasn't all that bad for him
Bonus:
• Doc Louis came to drop Little Mac since he wanted to go, Doc told everyone that the party was not gonna go well before leaving
• Little Mac just spent time on his phone and he had his airpods on so he was unaware of everything happening around him
• When the major circuit returned home, Don saw Carmen and immediately hugged her in tears saying how his night was ruined by Hondo and how chaotic it was, well to be fair, Don was jumped by some animals
• During the time for dinner, Gabby Jay broke into the house to give everyone cupcakes and left
• Joe was mad about not being allowed to cook
Probably the longest thing I've done, hope u guys like it and merry 24 days early christmas
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