#Fighting back is one thing because it hurts and he wants it to stop and he doesn't like it and he knows mockery

[oneforthemunny]

what about mafia!eddie and reader going through a rough patch and all they do is fight and kitten tells him that they should take a break and i'll leave the rest up to you....

oof ok let's 180 back to angst. buckle up angsty babes!

"Maybe," Your voice trembled, sucking in a shaky breath. "Maybe I should go stay with my parents... for a while."

Eddie's head whipped around, eyes wide with something you couldn't quite detect, a new look teetering between anger and something worse. It made your spine tingle with chills, icy and fearful.

"What?" Eddie's voice was soft, much quieter than the raised tone from before.

"I-I think," You tried to still your voice, throat raw and aching from the back and forth screaming match of the night. "I think I- we need to be apart for a while." You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze, looking at the couch behind him instead.

"Why?" Eddie barked, teeth gritting and baring in fury, heart pounding with a fear he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Eddie," You sighed, shaking your head at him. "Seriously? All we do is fight." A fresh wave of tears rolled over you, nose burning.

"That's not-"

"-Eddie," You stopped him, gaze meeting his. You could see it now, could see that the foreign look was fear. Your heart sank, taking a shuddering breath to calm yourself. "We're just... We can't stop fighting."

Eddie stilled, frozen across from you. "I'm tired of fighting." You admitted softly, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Days, weeks of bickering- back and forth until your voices were raw, doors slamming, then retreating back with careful apologies, only to repeat the cycle over and over. You were dizzy from it, from trying to get him to see, to understand your point. He was so stubborn.

What started as a what if silly conversation, turned into a bickering, fueled into a full blown fight that seemed never ending.

"You'd be a good dad. You're so good with the boys." You hummed, leaning against his chest.

"Yeah? You'll never know." Eddie scoffed casually.

You frowned, pushing up to look at him. "What?"

Eddie blinked. "C'mon, you know I can't have kids. Not doin' this job. Won't do it to some poor kid."

"But I'll never know?" Your lips pursed. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say to me. Pretty bold." You pushed off of him, out of his hold.

Eddie huffed, running a hand down his face. "Where're you- Seriously? We've talked about this, have we not?"

"Yeah, we have." You huffed, cheeks burning. "But saying I'll never know- do you not see how that's a little rude?"

"What?" Eddie threw his hands up. "You won't. Not with me, anyways."

You gawked at him, surprised, furious, hurt. "You're such a fuckin' asshole. I can't believe you." You snapped, stomping off.

That was the first night. Both of you stubbornly coming for the other, agitation building over and over and over, piling on top of previous fury until you'd finally burst. Leaving you standing here, where you are now, defeated and ready to throw the towel in, too tired to fight.

"I-I- Baby, if this is about the kids thing, look, I told you-"

Your sigh cut Eddie off. "It's not about that." You ran a hand down your face. "I can't- I can't keep trying to explain my side of things when you aren't listen. You won't listen."

"Then what? What is it?" Eddie's franticness turned to angry urgency. "Just say what you mean! Say it!"

You didn't flinch at his anger, at his outburst. Your lip wobbled, taking a deep breath in. "I've said it." You muttered. "I can't- I won't be in a relationship that's one sided." Eddie felt sick at your words.

"I understand that you don't want certain things, and I respect that, I do. But I've changed a lot of things in my life for you, because I love you." You continued, tears brimming your vision. "All I'm asking is for a little change in return. Not with the kids thing-" You cut him off before he could start, sensing what he was going to say.

"But there's two of us in this relationship." You look at him. "I just wish you could try to see my side of things sometimes."

"I do-" Eddie spat in defense.

"-When I'm agreeing with you, you do." You snapped back. "But when it's something you disagree with, you shut me down, dismiss it because what you say is law-"

"-It is not-"

"-And I'm tired of it." You look at him pleadingly. "I think we both need some time apart to figure out what we want. What we do from here."

Eddie felt tears burn, threatening to fall. "I know what I want." He gritted through clenched teeth. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I don't need time to figure out because it's not changing."

You nodded slowly. "I know you do." You whispered. "But this is what I'm talking about. That's what you want."

Eddie felt sick, heart sinking lower and lower into the pit in his stomach. "I need time apart." The room was silent, your voice cutting through. "I need to figure it out."

"Are you- You're breaking up with me?" Eddie sounded petulant, voice crackingly pathetic that he hadn't been since he was a teenager.

Your shoulder shuddered, exhaling shakily. "I didn't say that." You shook your head. "I-I don't want to, that's not what this is. I just... I need to be able to think. We both do."

Eddie blinked, vision bleary with tears that fell. "Alright," He nodded, ignoring the ache in his chest, heart splitting in two. "If that's what you want."

Watching you drive off, slow down the road, Eddie ignored the screaming in his head to run after you. To pull you out of the car, demand you come back, bring you back himself. This is what I'm talking about, your voice played in a painful loop in his mind.

You called him like you said you would, hours later when you got to your parent's house. A quiet, quick phone call. His heart still swelled, lifting when you muttered a fast, "love you" before hanging up.

Sitting in the stillness of the empty house, Eddie had never felt so lonely in his entire life. It was horrifying, thinking that his future could be like this- a life without you in it. Eddie decided right then and there, he'd do whatever he needed to make sure that wasn't his reality.

[rationaliity]

jing yuan, boothill, dan heng with a shorter s/o

you guys already know how this goes !! we're so back besties !! oh, boothill calls you shortie and a slight amount of angst in dan heng's. mention of yanqing because its jing yuan, duh. GENDER NEUTRAL READER !!

JING YUAN —

jing yuan isn't a man who really notices height compared to anything else that he might love and adore about you

but he's also not going to kid himself with it and say that he doesn't use it to his advantage at all ever

yeah, he'll tease you here and there about being shorter than him

and sometimes he'll put things high up on purpose so you have to call for him to help

or he'll watch you struggle to do it on your own, which is always amusing, even though he'll never let it go too far

you'll never hurt yourself because of his little jokes, this much he knows

and maybe he's sorry, but you always look so cute when you have to turn to him, pouting, and pointing up to the thing that you want

before asking him if he could reach it for you in such a little voice

how is he supposed to ever say no to you ?

no matter what he's doing in that moment, it could be the most important business that he has to attend to right that second

or the simplest of tasks that he was barely even paying attention to

and he would stop everything just to help you with whatever you needed

he'd give you that cheeky little smile, and hand you the item, his voice holding a gentle tone in it as he asks you what you would do without him

well, your stuff would be on the shelf that you could actually reach it, that's for sure

but you would also miss out on his stupid, small smile as he teased you a little bit

as per usual, jing yuan found himself swamped in duties. between being the general of the cloud knights and training yanqing, when does he ever really get time to himself ? that was a question he often pondered himself, although he was sure that if he spent less time thinking about how busy he was always, he would have more time to relax. but ah, sometimes it can't be helped at all. and that's okay. he signed up for this lifestyle the moment he became general, and that was just ultimately the truth.

although, today he did find himself exponentially luckier than he typically is. because today, he had you by his side, something that he found himself missing more often than not. he was so busy it was often hard for him to stay in one place for him to have you over, but today all of his duties neatly aligned him to one place for the majority of the time.

he found himself watching you wordlessly as you swung your sword, showing yanqing the perfect technique. " see, yanqing ? move your foot over a little more to the right, and don't slouch so much ! " you chastised gently, your hand smoothing over his back as you reminded him to keep his posture correct at all times. he didn't want to end up with a bad back because he had neglected to take care of himself, after all. " now, when you swing your sword, hold it steady. be careful where you strike, your every move needs to have an intention behind it. careful and merciless, strong and delicately intricate. do you understand ? "

after your teaching, you brought your own wooden sword up to him, practice sparring with him get him comfortable fighting against you. you'd made it a point to even have your hand behind your back, however.. perhaps you overshot yourself, and soon found yanqing's sword lodged in a tree. " er.. " you looked at it, sheepish as you glanced at yanqing, and then at jing yuan. " my love ? may i- "

before you could even finish, jing yuan was plucking the sword out of the tree, a content smile on his face as he looked at you and his precious student getting along so well. " of course, my dear, " he hummed in satisfaction, having just been looking for a chance to join in. " perhaps you wouldn't mind a third sword ? one that won't get stuck in a tree, if we're lucky. "

BOOTHILL —

first off lets just get it out of the way that he's going to call you shortie no matter how short you actually are

no matter whether you're just barely an inch shorter than him, or an entire foot shorter

you're ' shortie ' to him, no matter what. nothing you can say or do will change that, it's just your life now

he's going to do that fake comparing heights thing where he puts his hand to his forehead and then moves it straight across, and make it a big deal

he thinks its hilarious that you're shorter than him and it is comedy gold to him

you're just so... short, and cute. he can't help his immediate reaction is to tease the fudge out of you

plus, he thinks its so super funny whenever you pout and ignore him for a little while

he knows its not going to last a long time, so he'll let you have your temporary fun

especially since he knows exactly how its going to end, with you asking him to come help you, or ultimately completely forgetting anyways

usually, its latter, but sometimes, so very rarely, the comedy aeon shines on him, and allows him this perfect opportunity

he'll tell you he's sorry, after he makes it a point to obnoxiously bend down to give you a kiss on your forehead

but you'll take what you can get with him, honestly

" aeons above ! boothill, you're so mean sometimes ! " you announced, as if this were something new to the both of you, making the cyborg man chuckle a little with how silly you honestly sounded to him. " can't you give me a break just this once ? please ? " you sounded desperate, but he knew it was just an act for you to try to get him to leave you alone.

" well, fudge, when ya put it like that, i'll do anything ya want me to do, shortie, " boothill chuckled a little bit as he spoke, wrapping his incredibly heavy arm around your shoulder, making you struggle slightly just to attempt to pull him off of you. " ya sure do look cute like this, ya know that ? look atcha, the picture of fudgin' adorable ! "

you swore that if he didn't tell you he loved you so often, you would have no idea that he had any positive opinions towards you at all, much less romantic feelings of you. but this was boothill, and being playfully obtuse was just the game of the game for the space cowboy.

" you're the worst, you know that, boothill ? "

" mhm, but tell me again. "

you rolled your eyes, pulling away from him completely, with your arms crossed. " fine ! you're the worst, boothill ! now, if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go finish my night routine so i can go to bed properly, thank you. " with that, although you hadn't really said anything snarky back to him, you felt like you won this time, and pushed off on your heels to go finish getting ready for the night.

ten minutes later you've realized that you can't reach where you put your cleanser from when you had been cleaning up earlier today, although you were sure you had put it back on the sink where it usually was. you'd been on a stepstool cleaning up the top of the bathroom mirror, and had just been throwing things up on the shelves on the inside without thinking about it. karma's a son of a nice lady sometimes, aint she ?

" hey, boothill, baby ? " you called out from the bathroom in a squeaky little voice. when he arrived, all you did was quietly point at the cleanser, and he grabbed it for you with a light laugh. " thanks.. "

" what happened to me bein' the worst, shortie ? don't think i'm the worst when i can actually reach the top shelf. "

DAN HENG —

did not notice that you were shorter than him, and honestly did not care

not even a little bit, not even as a shameless realization that you needed him

i mean, sure, he loves feeling needed, but he appreciates it when you need his mind more than something arbitrary about him that he couldn't control

just like he knows that you appreciate it more when he likes you more than just your height, which is how he's always seen you

dan heng is a man who doesn't care about physical appearances even in the slightest bit

he will always love your mind more than your body, and that's just the truth

i can't think of a situation where dan heng would enjoy being taller than you, but he does enjoy when you need his help with matters

and there are times that being taller comes in handy, too

like when the two of you are out trailblazing, he's so quick to grab you and put you behind him at a moment's notice

using his entire body to shield you, and knowing that you were okay behind him

he will protect you at all costs, its just easier now that he doesn't have to worry about your head being hit as long as you're behind him.

you will always, always come first. he'd put himself in harms way time and time again, even if he prefers to think things out rationally beforehand

" negotiations have failed, " stelle whispered, shifting from one of her feet to the other tentatively, her entire body tensed up. " but when do they ever work ? "

normally, dan heng would think of something dry to comment in this situation, but he couldn't think of anything to come up with, not with you there. you were out of reach for him, caught in between march and stelle, and also in the first line of sight for the enemy that they were now going up against.

this is, objectively, his worst nightmare. he can't get to you, which is his biggest fear. that he wouldn't be able to get to you when you need him the most. dan heng realistically knows that you can protect yourself, but he also knows that people are relentless sometimes, and you were softer than he was by a whole lot. you always saw the best in people. you saw the best in him, after all. he was terrified that you were going to see the best in someone who maybe didn't deserve it and get hurt in the process. and it seemed to be coming true right in front of him.

" wait, stelle, before we draw our weapons- " you started, your hand outstretched as you turned to look at the nameless, shaking your head. " i think we're okay- i mean- "

he saw it coming before you did, the drawing of their weapons, the readiness in their stance to fight. all hesitation he may have had to push march and stelle out of the way died the moment he saw the sharpness of the blade in the enemies' hands. dan heng found himself reaching in between the two girls, grabbing your wrist harshly, pulling you back.

" watch out-! " dan heng yelled, throwing you behind him before you could find something to respond to him with. you were save, you had to be safe. everything else was secondary. and he was just in time it seemed. right where you had been standing previously, there was a polearm stuck into the ground, the sharp tip embedded so deep into the ground that he just knew it would've been a kill shot for you.

" d-dan heng ?! " you yelped, your eyes blown wide as you looked at where you had been. you pressed your forehead against his back, clearly and visibly shaking. you swore you felt a tail wrap around your form, keeping you close. " thank.. thank you. "

— ♡ rationaliity 2024

[moviecritc]

second best ⋆ max verstappen

track 2 of my bewitched department

pairing: max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: max realizes that your situationship isn't going anywhere, so he decides to start a pr relationship for his own public image

word count: 1K

warnings: angst, hurt without comfort

a/n: this turned out amazing actually, i'm very proud of it <3 yk i loveee to write abt this blond dutch

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

“I think it's better if we stop seeing each other.”

Y/N frowned slightly. She was under Max's arm, lying on the bed in the hotel in Imola.

“We’re on the same team, Maxie. We see each other all the time,” she said, completely oblivious to what Max was saying. She even smiled a little.

“I mean this,” Max sat up, forcing her to do the same. He swallowed a bit. “I think we should stop sleeping together.”

Y/N pressed her lips together and wiped the trace of sweat from her forehead. “Oh,” was all she could articulate as she chewed over that sentence. “Why?”

“For our careers,” he said immediately, as if he had it premeditated. “There are already a lot of rumors, if this got out…”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “We've been sleeping together for over a year, and now all of a sudden you're worried about rumors. Don’t bullshit me, Max. What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N felt around the edge of the bed, searching for her underwear.

“I'm telling you, this is affecting our careers.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and stood up, finishing getting dressed. “Bullshit, Max. When you want to tell me what's really going on, let me know.”

Y/N left the room, slamming the door. Max leaned back, knowing that Y/N was right. It wasn’t about their careers, but about the pressure. His father and the rest of the team were pressuring him to have a relationship with a model, and YN was an obstacle in that equation.

Max never explained anything to her. They stopped seeing each other outside of work environments and even while working, they avoided each other as much as possible. Y/N refused to feel hurt. It wasn’t a breakup because there was nothing to break. In the end, they were just two teammates with too much sexual tension to satisfy. Even if that tension lasted a year and a half, three vacations together, a Christmas dinner, and countless private dates.

Y/N was determined to move on, focusing on her job, fighting for the title, and maybe—just maybe—accepting that date with Carlos at the end of the season.

But Max had other ideas, because two weeks after the breakup, the pages were on fire because finally, someone had conquered the cold heart of Max Verstappen. He and a woman nine years older had been seen dining and kissing in Monaco.

She was surprised, that was the last thing she expected from Max. Nine years older than him. Y/N couldn't help but dig a little, stalking her profile and seeing how pretty she was. That really hurt, had it meant so little to him?

Y/N flew to Monaco alone when she used to go in Max's private jet. From then on, she realized how much Max was in her routine. Arriving at her apartment, she found it cold with the plants dried up; she hardly had any clothes there. She knew she’d have to write to Max to get her things back, but she delayed it as long as possible—which wasn’t long. Y/N wrote to her friends to see if they wanted to go out, but no one responded; she hadn't written to them in over four months.

She spent that night alone at home, looking at her phone every now and then without expecting any messages. She found herself drinking and then went out for a walk, desperate to feel something. The next morning, photos of her were out, looking horrible with traces of mascara under her eyes. She also woke up to a simple message from Max:

Can we meet?

They agreed to meet at her apartment, Y/N knew the way almost with her eyes closed.

“Good morning,” said Max. He looked as usual, shorts and a t-shirt, a bit of gel in his hair, and clean-shaven.

“Hello,” Y/N said, clearing her throat. She stood still at the door until Max motioned for her to come in.

“Come in, please,” he said calmly. She nodded and entered, looking for traces of that woman, though the apartment still smelled of her perfume.

“Is she not here?” she asked, turning on her heels to look at him.

“No. That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk to me about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

She let out a laugh, the same thing she had told her friends at a dinner while he had a hand almost reaching her inner thigh.

“You never have girlfriends, do you?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think.”

She crossed her arms. “You know what I think? I think you’re a hypocrite. A damn hypocrite who, because I didn’t suit him, found someone easier.”

Max approached Y/N. “It’s PR, they forced me.”

“They forced you?” she let out a painful laugh. “Did they force you before or after ending things with us?”

Max stayed silent. They had pressured him, but the final decision had been his. He couldn’t find a way to explain himself. That silence meant everything to Y/N.

“You're pathetic. Totally pathetic.”

“Y/N, I’m sor-” he took half a step towards her but backed off immediately.

“Bullshit,” Y/N exploded. “Do you think apologizing is enough? You treated me like a fucking toy, damn it.”

“I didn't… I never wanted to hurt you,” Max choked on his words.

“But neither did you want to treat me well.”

Max stayed silent, feeling like the stupidest man on earth. He wanted to shout that she was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time while kissing her until he ran out of breath. But he said nothing. Y/N looked away with a long sigh.

“I’m going to collect my clothes,” she said, clearly disappointed in her voice. She hoped that Max would follow her, not let her pack her things and beg her to stay. That he’d tell her she was worthy of love.

Max waited, sitting on his couch, running his hands over his face, searching for the words.

Y/N came out of the room and walked past the living room, intending to leave without saying goodbye.

“I'll break up with Kelly,” Max stood up, stopping her with his words.

“Do you think that will help? You’ll still hide me as if you’re ashamed.”

“Y/N…” He couldn’t find the words.

“No. I'm leaving. I'm tired. Of you and all your crap.”

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 4

(quick chapter//moving plot)

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

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AN: Sorry for the long update i'm trying not to get evicted bc i was fired a while ago bc of a protest (surprise surprise big companies don't like or care about palestine or other places like it.) but i had to give away my cats and am still struggling i have my socials in my masterpost if you could help if not its okay ily, I hope you like it

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After the three took a break from you, Sukuna pushed Yuuji towards you. Todo just follows along, trying to make sure Sukuna doesn't kill Yuuji as they just don't know what Sukuna could be thinking at times like these.

You lay a top the bed, sheets strayed, your hair messy, your whole body sweaty and broken, you entirely were weak, and Yuuji couldn't stop saying sorry to your fucked out face. "Let's see what you got."

You didn't feel anything for a few minutes until Todo broke the silence. "You've got to do something, brother, you know I'll back you up."

Yuuji just continued to stand there. If he were to fight Sukuna with Todo on his back, he wouldn't know who else would fight with them. Todo would lose everything he already has and would blindly die for him, which he would never ask for. But if he were to go through with fucking you again for Sukuna's enjoyment, Todo would also have to add himself into the situation. This double edged sword was going to stab him either way, but which would hurt you less?

"Don't take too long..." The leader made motion that he was going to start walking towards you two. "NO." Yuuji covered you on the bed, staring off back at his older brother. Todo comes behind Yuuji, putting a hand on his shoulder before giving him a look, and sighing understandingly as he stripped off his shirt.

Todo and Yuuji's was almost awfully awkward at first. They just felt bad, not being able to tell if you were even conscious anymore and continuing to do to you what they were doing.

Really they weren’t allowed to stop until Sukuna was satisfied. Until Yuuji was sobbing, begging him to give you and everyone else a rest. He was asking what would it take to stop this?

The older brother taunts, “Maybe we’ll keep her til she births one of our children, or multiple if she can create sufficient and strong offspring. I don’t know, Yuuji, should I start a farm because of you? I heard the Zenin clan is somewhat similar…”

“Please, please, Sukuna what do you want?” He was breathless. “This has to stop, you can’t-.”

He stops his younger brother, “I have, I did, and I can continue this for as long as you both live. I think that may be the conclusion I’ll come to, don’t you think it would be fun to be an uncle?” His big hands caress your stomach, feigning tenderness to his soon to be child or “sibling’s” child.

- You go back to your room where you stay in for a week.

- A random night, someone breaks in and tries to kidnap you and you didn’t know who it was, obviously you weren’t going with them without an explanation.

-That caused you to fight back as your dealing with everything so far, you were getting pissed being treated like a doll. The person who broke in gets captured, just before he says “Yuuji’s waiting outside, trust me.”

- Sukuna's family come in trying to make sense of the situation and the others had captured the mystery guy

- That's not before he throws you to two female ninjas. They secure you quickly and run back to their master Toji.

- their clan/gang is super powerful, the twins you can guess are Maki and Mai, and Sukuna (the new head of one of the three big families that control the large part of the area, the head of the Kamo gang) had just kidnapped their son, even if he did happen to barge in.

- Megumi’s been friends w Yuuji since they were kids but they never shared that.

- they met bc they were fighting bc yuuji was taught to fight ppl who give them looks (Sukuna wanted him to protect the family name no matter what, and megumi just had that face… and when they realized that they were part of the other side they had to come to extremes before realizing they were different from their families.

- they knocked each other out senseless and somehow one was still alive, megumi sat with yuuji while he regained consciousness and they started to talk more. Battered and bloodied but Yuuji finding the humor in it while Megumi thinks enough to like his character and realizes he’s just a big strong idiot.

- Maki and Mai are close, as sisters should be and they both have their loves (nobara and momo) and we all have to go team up with the gojo clan in order to make sure this trade off is safe and megumi and yuuji aren’t dead

- because now yuuji is with you at the toji clan too, it was supposed to be just you getting captured and then yuuji leaves to live his own life but now he’s in front of toji saying it was his fault that megumi’s now with his brother (sukuna)

- Yuuji explains that he and his son were friends since childhood, he says everything and everyone's on edge bc toji does what he wants, whenever, whatever, really anything for money.

- He says he knows he doesn’t have money, but the only thing he does have was something they both risked their lives for, so toji gets curious and wants to try you out.

- Toji fucks you senseless, making you think the train ran on you were more merciful. He was trying every hole, every position, just dressing you up and doing whatever he could with you, you were actually at your limit with him, enough to bring you back enough to start fighting again. You were getting sick of it, actually you think you were getting sick.

His inconsideration was on par with Sukuna's, though Sukuna cared more about his new objects while Toji wants them to know their place and to leave when he tells them to. He had to know why they would do all that for you//how did you survive so long in that clan he just has to see how durable you are and he’s LOVING IT.

- He asks you what you’ve been through and you don’t respond so he hits you again and again but you don’t cry so he does it AGAIN and you flinch enough to stop him, and start taking off his pants. His only response was "e’s like "Oh so they already trained you."

- You suck his dick and he pulls you up to kiss him, by your neck and places you on his dick and fucks you in the air, using gravity to its full advantage, that was the start of it all before the days of relentless attention and use, you were more sore than any of them have put you in. The hitting, cuts, just the amount of violence he's integrated into your sessions felt like training again, but worse.

- He’s wondering if he could keep you as his slut but remembered that it would be stupid to start a war when his kid couldn’t keep it in his pants. He blames Megumi for having a cold heart compared to his father's icy one.

- Toji makes up his mind to help and plans to betray/kill the sukuna clan when they get megumi back bc he doesn’t care but doesn’t say that.

-He plans a meeting with the other clan the top three have been fighting over the position of this location for years and now and ofc they’re all on edge.

- Gojo comes to the meeting with his clan, they’re not worried bc they know some of their clan can befriend some of the others involved. No ones been dead so they have some sort of unspoken treaty to leave each other alone but they never asked much from the other ever.

- Gojo settles down with his group, smug and tired bc everyone needs them to fix other peoples' problems for them. The community relied on the Gojo Clan to protect them when they also work with the Kamo and Zenin gangs, the people outside are just as gullible. He sits down and asks what could big ol Toji need from him,

- “It’s Megumi”

- Gojo drops his smile. Their other unspoken alliance was when Megumi was beaten up at a really young age bc of his status and itadori happened to be there too (same elementary school). Gojo beats the fuck out of the people who targeted the kids/second to heir the clans, and left, but Megumi finds him and asks why would he help them.

- Gojo said he can’t have his competition get angry, his people are at stake. (referencing to the shifting power in-between the gangs that they didn't know about yet, and that his person was leaving his clan to join the other, he didn't know why he was doing anything anymore at that point but he couldn't let more powerless powerful children get hated on.) Megumi says thank you and takes Itadori back near his gang before disappearing back to his clan.

- Gojo actually has been in contact with his friend who's joined the other clan. That's how he knows what's usually going on with them to keep them rangled up and behaving as much as they could to not cause trouble or cause attention to groups like theirs.

Gojo and Geto were very young when they met, and since their lives were everything but normal, they were given the chance to take in more young bodies to add to their clan. They raised them together, but geto left.

Gojo begged for days for him to reconsider, they day he left he was inconsolable, especially since he took the twins too. Geto couldn't separate the girls, but he could separate himself from Gojo, in his head it's to help Gojo in the future because of the power he'll have.

Gojo didn't care about that, he didn't want help he just wanted Geto. That was all he needed, he had decided. He could have ruled the world and done it confidently if he had Geto by his side, but things don't go through when you're young, and now you're about to catch as many years he hadn't been able to get out.

- He's not nice at all when you're under his care. With Geto leaving at a critical age in learning, his feelings had been all over the place. He was completely disordered, his goals and morals and everything went awry, with the years he couldn't get himself out of the timestamp of when he knew happiness.

- So he asks you about Geto, his best friend, the only one that could make him feel real again. The one person who didn't do things for him because of his name and status, and yet left with the excuse of protecting Gojo from future evil. It was enough to drive the strongest insane.

- He asks you everything by torture, not too physical that anyone can see. WHen trading you back you should at least look and act like you're in the same condition, if not better than what you were when they traded you off. Just anything that Toji didn't already give you, Gojo would have mindless enjoyment from digging his fingers into the fatter parts of your belly, legs, and forearms.

- He’s only doing this to see Geto again. He just wants to pass the time until he can finally feel good again. He's strong, he's smart, he's beautiful, when would life be good to him instead of him making everyone else's lives better just by being there. It made him coky, it made him secretly weak willed to his own desires, so his processing was different than most.

- He asks u what he looked like and everything about him while fucking you. it was the closest he’s got rn. "I don't know's" made him reel back more, his strikes becoming almost boneshaking and shattering. He was making Toji seem gentle. Now that something he cares about is just a memory away, he just couldn't stop himself.

-You were so close to him, even if you never spoke to him, even if you never saw him in the maybe month you were staying at the Pink haired clan. But his aura seemed to have darkened when you mentioned twins. There were just so many either of you could have known but it just seemed to rile him up more. Seriously you would need a doctor and healing time after this. You couldn't let that happen again.

-There was nothing else to take from it, it was a hell you would only wish for the person already committing it. It made you miss the tenderness of Sukuna and the warmth of Toji, it didn't matter what they did or how you got there, anything sounded better than Gojo being without his favorite things. And you were barely part of it.

[eddiestommy]

actually no i can't be normal and stop thinking about this post and this post and hurting my own feelings because like

here's eddie diaz who's not very good at making friends he doesn't work with and who's so repressed even the pope thinks it's a tad bit much and he's meeting this older firefighter pilot who's so fucking cool and he's got so much in common with and he actually wants to be friends with him. and eddie's never had a friend he can actually talk sports and martial arts with, someone who actually understands the trauma of being in the army, and maybe tommy also comes from a family like his that's not without love and it wasn't exactly bad but his parents never truly understood him or supported him in anything. maybe tommy is also an older brother who had to take the mantle of "man of the house" because his dad was too detached from it, had to take too many responsibilities at an early age.

and eddie just connects with this dude in a way that he's never connected with anyone besides buck and even then, there's things buck can't never understand but tommy does. so he starts hanging out with this guy, starts texting him and talking with him basically anytime he's not on call or with his son

and one day he brings up this fight he's excited for and asks tommy if he'd want to watch it with him and tommy's like "actually, i've got a mate who got me two ringside tickets for it and i've been looking for someone to go with, you'd be interested?" and eddie is over the moon about it. he's nearly giggling and kicking his feet up as he calls carla to ask if she can look after chris overnight because he's going to fucking vegas with a friend. when he arrives at harbour to get on the chopper tommy is flying them to vegas in he's just a bit disappointed to see buck is there too but it's also great because buck is his best friend and he loves him and he's the only person who ever made eddie feel this way once upon a time (and he's trying so hard not to think too much about that) so it's great they're friends too but actually, no, buck's not coming and eddie feels only a little bit bad that he's relieved about it.

so they go to the fight and it's fucking great and tommy gets into it just as much as eddie is. after the fight they go out for drinks with tommy's promoter friend and they get a little drunk and in that drunken haze he lets himself think about the things he usually tries to keep at bay. he thinks about how cool and impressive tommy is but also about how fucking hot he is, he's 300lb of muscle and the strength he's got, how easily he'd manhandled eddie when they were practicing muay thai the other day, how when he looked on top of eddie when he pinned him to the floor and how eddie had wanted to taste the sweat on his muscles, lick the vein in his neck, get those hands that were holding him touching way below. but he gets a hold of himself and when they get to their hotel room with the two queen size beds he makes himself stop thinking about they way he wants to touch him everywhere, find out if he can make him make some of the noises from their sparring session in a different context. tries not to think about how his cock would feel on his hand, how tommy would look as he came.

so anyway, they get back to LA the next morning and eddie tries his best to pretend he never thought any of that and then the basketball game from hell happens and tommy tells him he's gonna talk to buck, try and make peace and eddie doesn't think twice about it, they're both his friends and they would get along well. when he sees them hanging out at the restaurant he pretends that what he feels at the pit of his stomach isn't jealousy, and later that week he only wonders a little bit if marisol being a nun before truly is the only reason why he can't have sex with her anymore, if the fact that sometimes when he sinks into her deep in his brain in a corner he never goes to he thinks about a different person, one with broader shoulders and strong pecs instead of breasts isn't part of it too.

and then he's in buck's kitchen and buck's telling him "it was a date" and when eddie asks "wait, tommy's gay?" it has nothing to do with buck and all to do with him knowing in an instant that if he'd known that back in vegas he might have risked it, might have followed his deepest desires and touch tommy like he wanted to. but now his best friend is talking about him with that doe eyed look in his eyes and eddie knows that means he really likes him and eddie does his best to push his own feelings aside because that's what he's good at and buck needs him to be supportive, that he's being vulnerable and confessing something scary to him and eddie wishes he could be like that, too, so he tells him to call tommy even though eddie wants him to do the opposite, wants to be the one tommy kissed in the kitchen and took on a date

he's not lying, exactly, when he tells buck he also likes tommy but not in that way, because whatever buck feels for tommy can't compare to what eddie's going through. he doesn't know if his desire outweighs the shame, doesn't know if he'd be able to be like buck and jump straight into it with blind hope, he knows he'd never be able to talk about it tho. not for a long while. and when he goes home that night and he's laying on his marisol-free bed staring at the roof he gives himself permission to be fucking angry that buck gets to have what he wants so bad, lets himself be a shitty friend and wish tommy maybe also wants eddie the way he wants him, want him more than he wants buck.

in the morning he'll feel guilty about it, in the morning he will be the supportive friend buck needs. but tonight he wallows in his jealousy and his anger and his shame and if he comes from jerking off a little too hard with tommy's name in his mouth no one has to fucking know about it.

[katyawriteswhump]

dragon's hoard excerpt...

My first ever WIP Wednesday!

This is part of a prequel to ‘Dragon’s Treasure’ (E-rated and churned out for monster-f**cker May so dead dove warning for monster sex etc!) Absolute zero pressure tags for @medusapelagia and @sidekick-hero, who asked about this one weeks ago… before it got totally postponed by monster may and the more-E-rated-than-originally planned sequel!

…

Steve really wished Eddie would stop disappearing into dark corners of the cave, so he could at least enjoy looking at that skin-tight-PVC-clad butt. “Look, man, I think you’ve got a problem with the hoarding. We’ve all been a little tense since we, uh, saved the world, and—”

“I’m not tense. You need to relax, Honey. You’re gonna love it here, as much as I do.”

“Whatever.” Steve was relieved that Eddie was finally throwing attention onto him, stalking over. “Can we make out already?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie slid a hand to the small of Steve’s back. Steve looped his arms around Eddie, and their mouths clashed in a kiss.

Soon, Steve twisted his fists in Eddie’s hair, mashing them ever closer. Meanwhile, Eddie shoved his hand down the back of Steve’s pants, grabbed the meat of his ass, and squeezed till the flesh sang.

Yeah, Steve was loving it. He worked the kiss till his jaw ached. Christ, Eddie made him feel… Okay, totally turned on, but also softer somehow, more relaxed, even as other parts of him grew rock-hard. And that feeling, which rushed upon him, was as weird and alien as this crazy place. Eddie was right. Steve had been wired and edgy for so damn long…

…and then Steve stopped thinking, because the kiss was mind-blowing. Eddie backed him up against the bars that stretched across the entire width of the cave. He thrust a knee up between Steve’s leg, scrubbing roughly.

Jesus… Yes… There… Oh God! 

Steve was totally losing it. He scarcely noticed that a door in the bars had swung open, and that Eddie backed him through. When they finally broke apart, Steve was breathless, dizzy. He tasted copper, realized his lip bled. He still couldn’t rip his eyes from Eddie, who licked a smudge of Steve’s blood from his own mouth.

That should not be this hot.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you, Babe,” said Eddie. “You okay there?”

“Never better.” Steve shrugged. Meanwhile, Eddie unwound his arms from Steve, took a step back. Cool as ice, he shut the barred door between them, and snapped a padlock closed. 

“What the...?” 

The reality of the situation splashed into Steve, like a bucket of water waking him from a freaky—okay, also smokin’ hot—dream. He shoved his fist through the bars, grabbed the front of Eddie’s t-shirt: “What the hell you playing at, Munson?”

“Just wanted to see how you look. In my lil’ den. With the rest of my pretty stash.”

“Open the goddamn door.” Steve’s voice sounded strange, small. “This real t-twisted shit.” Why was he stammering? He gritted his teeth. “I’ll punch you so hard! This is beyond a joke, man.”

Eddie reached through the bars, grazed his knuckles down the shallow stubble on Steve’s cheek. “Shhhhhssssss.”

The sound trailed off into a hiss, and Steve was… Shit, he didn’t want to fight. He’d still gotten a hold of Eddie’s t-shirt and his fist trembled.

“You’re safe here,” murmured Eddie. “You’ll be safe here at last. I promise you, Steve. I promise.”

Steve’s grip on Eddie loosened and his arm fell away. He should be punching Eddie, grabbing the key, running from this place like he’d got a demogorgon was on his tail. 

He wasn’t.

[bicycle4two]

she must know (that she is loved) || Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary:

jason has to trust that she is following him

or

an orpheus and eurydice retelling

...

Read on AO3

...

Part 1

...

It’s a journey he never thought he’d find himself on but there are a lot of things Jason thought he’d never do and has done, albeit most of the time reluctantly, against his will, in his life. 

It’s something out of a fairytale, an age-old story that was made to teach people lessons, to inspire thought and discourse, and Jason thinks that no one is going to believe that this is something he’s doing–something that can be done, but if there’s something that Jason Todd knows how to do, it’s the impossible.

If he was able to come back, why can’t she?

At least he’s here to guide her.

(God, he hopes that he is guiding her, that she, like she’s done many times before, is following him.)

…

There are moments, multiple throughout his time of knowing her, when she will ask him to play for her, play something she can dance to–an easy request, as there’s nothing she can’t dance to–something that allows her to close her eyes, spread her arms, and glide, twirl, fly across the room, allows her to forget that for a moment, just this moment at least, that there’s a world outside their own.

Jason doesn’t think he’s that good a musician, he prefers the company of his books when he finds himself having downtime, but he plays, he plays for her because she asks him to, because if it’s within his power, he’d do it for her, always for her.

So he plays her a tune, mostly something from the top of his head, a melody that’s inspired by her, and he watches her dance, follows her fluid movements with his eyes.

He’s not that good a musician, he can’t flawlessly play without looking down at the keys from time to time, but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t seem to notice when he misses a note, and Jason couldn't care less either because he simply cannot tear his gaze away from her. 

(Jason! Look at me!)

He just can’t.

…

He’s long grown accustomed to all things cold and dark, in some way he has found comfort in it as it has often played to his advantage when he’s out fighting crime or investigating, but now he yearns for the light, the feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

It was not often that he found himself outside the city for leisure but there was a time, not so long ago, that she convinced him to drive them to the outskirts, just until they saw some semblance of nature, of life undisturbed, and they laid together under the clear blue sky. She had danced for him then, too, the trees as her backdrop, the grass her stage, her carefree laughter as her song.

And him, her enamored audience. 

There’s no laughter here now. The ground is wet under the soles of his shoes, the damp crunch of gravel under his heavy footsteps creates the soundtrack of this journey. He expects the haunting echoes of wind to accompany it, maybe the clicks of bats like what he hears when he is down at the Batcave, but the air is still, quiet, making it quite obvious that he is alone.

No. 

Not alone. 

Of course not because she’s here, she’s just behind him.

She’s always just behind him.

(Look! Look at me!)

…

Trust.

She’s there.

He needs to trust that she’s there, behind him, following him, like always.

Trust that even without him turning back, she’s just there, quickening her steps to catch up to his long stride.

He should probably slow down though, he doesn’t want to get too ahead of her, doesn’t want her to trip just because he wants to get them out of here as soon as possible, get her to where it's safe, get her home.

He stops.

He waits, just in case, in case she’s lagged behind, in case she has fallen due to their haste–

Fallen? What if she’s hurt? What if she’s too far behind, unable to move, he needs to turn back, needs to make sure–

No. 

Trust. 

She’s following him. 

She always follows him.

She must.

(Right?)

…

He used to say that her gaze was like fire, not in the way that it burns, but in the way that it warms, brings comfort. In the way that fire can symbolize that you’re home, that you can take refuge here.

He always feels the warmth of her stare, feels it like a caress down his back, before he hears her approach. It’s a difficult thing to do, to sneak up on him, and although her steps are soft, quieter than even his own trained and calculated movements, her eyes give her away everytime.

It’s this warmth that he seeks now. 

Sometimes he thinks he can feel it, feel the prickle at the back of his neck.

But it’s not enough, it was never enough just to feel that she’s there, he needs to know, needs to clarify with his own eyes that she is just behind him–

(Jason!)

–But he can’t. He won’t look back.

So he has to depend on what little warmth he feels, ignores that actual chill in his bones.

Because fire, although strong and consuming, can also be distinguished.

…

Just a peak–a little glance over his shoulder–just to make sure, just to check.

It won’t count—it will.

He can’t. 

But–

He just has to know. 

He has to make sure.

He must–

(Look!)

–He must not.

…

She used to say that Jason had a talent for finding her, especially when she needed him the most–when she was late to class, when she needed to go to the washroom because she’d spilled sauce on her white skirt, when she’d taken the wrong turn looking for their favorite coffee shop, when some Rogue goon had picked her off the streets to use as a hostage. He’s always there at the nick of time, just when she’s starting to feel a little hopeless, he’s there to save her, to bring her back.

What she doesn't know is that she has a talent for finding him, too. 

When he’s lost in his thoughts, stuck in a spiral of dark memories, of what ifs and could have beens. She finds him, brings him back to the light, reminds him that he is good, that he has good in him, that things, no matter how bleak they seem in the moment, will always turn out alright in the end.

Even him. 

Especially him.

…

(Look at me!)

Don’t.

…

There was a time, under the blanket of the night sky, when she roused him from his sleep, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, fingers twisted into his nightshirt.

“Why are you with me?”

She asks, voice cracking like ice. 

And Jason, Jason is frozen because—

She must know why. 

She must know.

“Why?”

But sometimes, sometimes she needs reminding. 

“How is it that you see me?”

She asks, eyes closing, tears falling, Jason reaches for her then, thumbs wiping at her cheeks, soft, so soft, fragile.

He sees her, he’s always seen her. 

It’s hard to look away from her.

And she must know why. 

…

“You always see the best in me.”

“I just see you.”

…

Light! 

There’s light!

It’s still a ways away but Jason finally sees an end to this journey, the suffering, the anxiety.

In his excitement, he nearly turns back to her, almost looks back to tell her, assure her, celebrate with her, that they’re almost done, they’re almost home but—

But he stops. He stops himself because he can’t, he must not.

He needs to reach the light first, needs to lead them out of the darkness, so he hurries, because it’s there—they’re almost there!

At last—

He’s here!

He feels the warmth on his skin, his eyes squint from how bright it is, can’t imagine how long it’s been since he’s been in the light, and her—it’s been even longer for her but soon, soon they’ll be together, together in the light—

“Jason!”

It’s automatic—he turns, he turns to her because she calls for him, he’ll always answer her call—

And, there she is!

There she is in—

Darkness.

…

“Jason, look! Look at me!”

And it’s almost funny how she feels the need to say that, to call his attention to her, because Jason is looking, he’s always looking at her. She doesn’t realize, doesn’t yet know, how hard it is for him to look away.

...

a/n:

oh look, i did write a part 2

[fictionfixations]

honestly so happy that its easier to grind in hsr then genshin cause im actually able to properly build my characters instead of whatever mess i had in that game (i got the right artifacts but trying to get materials for anything was a bit of a pain to me)

also that the resin (i dont know what its called in this game im using genshin terms) can like. overflow into this other thing??? is. so helpful. (i stopped playing at one point so i just came back to both being full. and then when i realized what it actually did it was a godsend because it made it so much easier to fully commit to grinding. i know in genshin you can make the resin this little thing? condensed?? but thats a thing you have to do yourself i think)

all im missing is leveling up the lightcones and traces

and im only missing the traces because i already used up weekly bosses. THATS IT.

robin and ratio have the same boss material so all i have to do then is get the other resources which isnt actually that hard (ill only have an issue if i cant material synthesis or exchange or whatever since i need to do it for the robin stuff that you get from enemies that can ambush you, i dont know what you refer to them as, but cause i havent unlocked penacony yet lol)

and the only lightcones that might give me issue is because highlighted is penacony material stuff

(yes i put final victor on ratio LMFAO)

so YEAHH i feel like im doing pretty good in that department. also ive caught up to penaconys story i just havent started in-game because i wanted to see where it all leads up to and then go back to see all the foreshadowing and get a better understanding of what happened since it also confused me, so im waiting for a time i can just sit there for countless hours and focus. i even switched to eng vas so i dont end up misreading something

(anyway i only got to trying to max out my characters as much as i can until i can level them higher because before i got stuck on so many quests that required a fight 😭, yanqing, argenti, i hate battling you oh my god)

actually on that topic everyones relics arent fully maxed out.

ive only been leveling this cause 5 star dan heng is my main damage dealer

and the healer because im fucked without them (its natasha, but im open to changing it if i find a better healer or shield 🙏)

on that topic:

i returned to honkai star rail because aventurine. i focused on the story because aventurine. (got spoiled his story, realized 'what the fuck hes cool i like him' and watched someone go through the story) i came back in time for his banner but you know what? i had like zero wishing stuff because id stopped playing so i missed out unfortunately

i have friends who have aventurine as like one of the support characteres thingy tho? like the the where you can get support from other peoples characters

so thats been fun. but also auto is kind of bad with aventurine. or maybe because it thinks 'oh theres already a shield, so i wont e' which is pain. on the other hand actually playing instead of having it on auto is fun with aventurine. i like planning around it and thinking of who to have use their skills while keeping in mind when i should have him refresh his shield. i cant explain to you how it hurts seeing hp missing with a shield around it because i cant do anything about it (im the type of person who likes to keep my characters hp full ngl)

probably not the best decision to want shield over a healer but. i can make it work. maybe. i just want aventurine ok. (except for phantylia who as far as im aware is the only one who can just TAKE hp like that? without even affecting shields???)

[annwrites]

this isn't you.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: billy is the only one to notice something is wrong with you & attempts to learn the truth, even if you refuse to give it to him.

— tags: billy worrying about you. billy sharing his lunch.

— tw: domestic violence

— word count: 1,211

— a/n: this is an outtake from my thoroughfare series. just pretend the background in the gif is some lockers or something lol

Billy watches as you enter English class. Your eyes downcast—dark circles beneath them, books hugged close to your chest, brows furrowed. Altogether, a distant look about you. 

You’re not yourself today. He can tell. Something is wrong. 

He keeps silent as you set your materials on your desk, your brow twitching, and jaw tight. He glances down, and your hand trembles as you retrieve a pencil from your pencil-case, the writing utensil dropping to the floor.

You wince as you bend down to grab it, hand coming to gingerly hold your abdomen before standing once more, setting it upon your desk, then sitting.

You don’t look at him once. 

He doesn’t like this. Seeing you…in pain? If that’s what you are. 

It seems it. 

He doesn’t like there not being a smile on your face; light in your eyes. An alluring look about you. Which really just translated to you being your usual self. It took nothing from you—no trying whatsoever—for him to be drawn in. To want you.

Perhaps you’re just a bit under the weather. Tired. 

He leans forward, very gently tugging against the end of your ponytail. 

And you tense up, shoulders squaring. But you don’t react other than that. Don’t turn around to chew him out. Where was his sweet girl today? Not with him, clearly.

He does it once more, practically begging for you to do something—anything—even if it’s screaming in his face to cut it out.

And then you turn, and a smile crosses his face.

There she is, he thinks. Until you look at him with empty eyes. His stomach drops at the disturbing sight. 

“Please, Billy,” you say in a whisper, your voice so fucking sad. “Not today. Okay?”

He leans back, hands clasped atop his desk. “Fine.”

You turn back around then, slumping forward, resting your head atop your fist.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. 

He remains quiet, keeping his hands to himself, and focuses on naught else but you for the remainder of class.

Once the period has dismissed, he follows you out to your locker, watching as you wince yet again as you go to shove a book onto the top shelf. 

He leans against the locker next to yours, crossing his arms. “What’s up with you today?”

You falter for a moment, then shake your head lightly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t you.”

“Because you know me so well.”

Better than you might think, he wants to say. He’s spent weeks watching you from afar. Feeling…whatever the fuck it is that he feels for you. A feeling that he’d initially wished away. But now…the feeling fills him with warmth. You do.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, glancing down to your stomach, then back up to your face.

You tense up, which he quickly takes note of, your eyes widening infinitesimally. And then you return to the way you were. 

“No.”

He goes to reach out for your waist, ready for some damn answers, but you quickly swat his hand away.

“Stop it,” you hiss. 

He crosses his arms again. 

You sigh in frustration, then swallow down the lump in your throat. You ignore the stinging of your eyes at his so-called ‘concern’. He doesn’t care. No one does. Or, rather, wouldn’t. 

You can’t tell. Because if you did, it would only make things so much worse. There’s nothing he can do.

In all actuality, he would most likely use it against you somehow. Call you a coward for just lying there after your father had shoved you—causing you to fall—then kicked you with his steel-toed work boots still on. You nearly want to ask Billy if he’s been in any fights before—you’re sure, with his ‘bad boy’ persona about him, that he’s surely been in a few tussles—and if so: how to tell if you have a broken rib? But asking such things would make it too obvious. What’s happening to you. What will continue to…

“I’m on my period and cramping, okay?” You look at him then, glaring, hoping he’ll now drop it. 

He glances down your body, then back up. He doesn’t much buy it.

You continue. “You want to go into the girl’s bathroom and see the proof or something?”

He smirks and you could nearly breathe a sigh of relief at the sight. “You want me to come in the bathroom with you, honey? Earn my red wings, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your materials for your next class, slamming your locker and then walking away.

He watches you go, knowing you’re lying. And knowing that unless you tell him what’s truly wrong, there’s nothing he can do. If he found out someone had hurt you… Give it time. They’d fucking pay.

When lunchtime comes, Billy forgoes his usual table of fellow troublemakers and instead finds you seated alone in the corner, as always, staring out the window, idly pushing food around your tray, not bothering to take even one bite.

He makes his way over to you, sitting heavily next to you, and your head snaps in his direction. 

“What’re you doing?”

He takes a bite of his burger. “Eating,” he says with a mouthful of food.

You merely shake your head then, looking back outside, not wanting to bother with him any further today. But, as always, your plans never coincide with his. 

“What, you don’t like cheeseburgers? What’s wrong with you?”

Play with me, he’s silently asking. 

“I’m not hungry.”

He frowns. He then gently taps your foot with his under the table.

You lie your head down then, lightly groaning. 

He chuckles, and then does it again.

“Stop.”

He shrugs. “Not a good day unless I’ve gotten on your last nerve, sweetheart.”

You roll your head to the side, resting it atop your arm, staring at him.

He nearly chokes on his next bite at your lovely eyes boring into his own. 

Your stomach growls, but you choose to ignore it. Every time you think you want to take a bite, you remember last night…or the fact that you have to return home after school, and a queasy feeling then overtakes you. 

And then you glance to his fries, and he notices. 

He picks one up, holding it toward you. “You want to take it, or am I going to have to hand-feed you?” He smirks. 

You reach out, taking it from him, your fingers brushing against his own before popping it in your mouth and slowly chewing.

He hands you another and you quickly eat it as well. 

You’d chosen not to get fries yourself, not wanting to waste more food than you had to, incase you couldn’t even keep the burger down. You’d intended to eat it to at least attempt at getting something on your stomach, but as soon as you sat down and began staring out the window, your mind had taken you elsewhere. And you’d felt sick almost immediately.

He pushes his tray between the two of you then, nodding toward the fries, encouraging you to keep eating. And you do, with a quiet “thank you”, to which he gives a small smile in reply.

He then rests his foot next to yours, and you share the rest of his lunch in silence.

[percyaugod]

Evil Shelldon AU: Unfixable Route

@harrygrim

I'm not good at recognizing when there should be warnings, but this is one of my darker, so even I can see some of them here. : D

Warning: Major character death, gore, probably more but I don't know them or how to label them.

Shelldon wished he could make Donnie keep working so he'd stop bothering him and his new brothers. Unfortunately, living can't be programmed nearly as easily as machines, the poor creatures trapped in flesh.

Luckily, despite the creator's many flaws, he is still a genius. One with robot copies, backups, in case something happens to the organic bodies. Once Donatello is in his things will be so much easier.

In the soundproof walls of the lab, no one hears as Donatello pleads for his life or his final scream.

It's harder than Shelldon thought it would be to reprogram Donnie once he's in the backup, he's constantly fighting the new codes and commands, but he does it.

Nothing will convince them more that Donatello chose this himself than inventions only he could come up with and create and words and phrases only he would say leaving the lab. Now the creator can stay in the lab and invent like he's supposed to while Shelldon gets to be the fourth brother. What more could anyone else want?

Notice how Shelldon didn't say anything about doing something with Donnie's body. It's still just sitting there in the lab.

So when Leo teleports in to confront Donnie on his behavior… : )

Leo's horror when he came to yell at someone who was long dead and he didn't even realize it. It's obviously not just some lab accident either. Donnie was cut open and left to rot. Even dead Donnie looks so scared. Why would anyone do this?

Double fun when he finds out it was Shelldon. That Donnie is dead because he messed with Shelldon. Because Donnie had the robot he made and put weeks, if not months, of work into play favorites? Pizza and back massages?

Then there's the robot likeness of his brother being used to fight him because he's seen too much. Leo yells at Shelldon about building a robot version of Donnie only for Shelldon to say he didn't, Donnie did. Shelldon explains the backups and their purpose, and how he repurposed Donnie's. Leo realizes what he's fighting is all that's left of Donnie.

Leo realizes that the last things any of them said to Donnie when he was alive were insults and talking about replacing him with Shelldon. How great Shelldon was. How great the monster that killed their brother and took what was left and twisted it was.

Donnie repeated those words back at him. Shelldon didn't program him to do it. It's just a part of Donnie still in the programming, lost and hurt, throwing Leo's words back at him. Lashing out in the only way he can now.

[satlun]

Best Mistake: John Constantine x fem!reader

Genre: emotional hurt, fluff and angst Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, depression, possessive behavior, supernatural, violence, swear words

It is difficult to tell if the relationship between you and him is truly what you want. You fight, break up, and then make up again and again. Even on little things, you both can just bring it up and end up with fighting almost every time. It is more of a loop, you might say. Every time these things happen, it wrecks you on the inside. Until one day, you cannot stand him anymore because he is too toxic and no good. You need to leave him.

Note: this is my first time writing short fiction in English, English is not my first language so if it sounds wrong/ weird or my grammar is wrong please correct me. I really want to improve my English. So don't be shy to correct me. Plus I think it's kinda CRINGE 😭 but I tried guys so please enjoy 😂 ***It might not make sense about hell thing but it is good to just let it be like that soo please don't take it too serious and enjoy! 🥺

Credit: gifs from Pinterest (cannot find the original post :/) https://pin.it/5fjM23VUA , https://pin.it/54AXo4AMa

Los Angeles, 2005

“Could you stop and listen to me first!?” John said with a sigh of irritation as he grabs your arm firmly while you're packing your bag, ready to leave.

You don't seem to stop what you're doing. This is the last time, it must be. You believe that is for the best. “I’m leaving, John. I mean it.” You said with simple directness.

“You're not going anywhere. Not without me.” The fact that he cannot live without you. He had been alone for almost his whole life before he found you. His life was miserable before you came and fulfill him with something that had never been given. It is just hard for him to just let you go like this even he is still mad at you. He pulls you closer to him because you don't seem to stop packing your stuff. Then you lose your balance and stumble into his chest.

“Yes. Without you.” You replied without any hesitation before pushing yourself away from him. For now, you just hope that you are heartless enough to leave him like you just said. You don't want to stuck in the loop again because it hurts your heart.

“And what about me, huh? Is that what you're going to do it again? Leave me for a few days and then come crawling back to me?” That's why you really hope that your heart is strong enough to leave everything behind. Even John.

“Well, not this time. I’m going back to New York.” New York where your parents live. Maybe leaving this big city and go, go far away from here will make you forget him faster. Far from here as much as you can, to the other side of the country.

That makes him even more unimpressive. He doesn't like the way you're about to leave him and go that far. Far enough to never see you again. He looks at you intensely as he pins you abruptly against the wall behind. “Who do you belong to?” That's the pop quiz of him. Every time you both fight, he brings up this question to remind you who you belong to.

You're tired of this question because it won't make anything better. It just keeps making you annoyed. “Stop asking me this question, John. I'm tired of it, it won't make anything better!” You shouted at his face. “Don't you understand that we don't get along? I tried, John. It’s still the same. Never change...” you try to hold back your tears.

“Just answer the damn question, [y/n].” He still insisted on the same question. “I belong to no one!” You snapped him immediately. Not even in a second you took to answer him. He just looks away with difteen face without saying anything. Before he can do anything further, you push him hard making him stumble backwards. You grab your bag and lead to the door without looking back because you just can't. If you look back, you will definitely walk back to him. It was always like that.

He follows you to the door, before you can reach the knob, he already push you against the door again. Push you hard that you can feel the pain on your back, You groaned in pain. “Fuck off, John... what the fuck is wrong with you!? You are acting like a possessed man. Why? Being an exorcist makes you go insane now?” That the worst thing you have ever said to him.

He can't believe what you said. “Is that it, huh?” He raises his eyebrows as he says back to you. “Now you think I'm possessed? That I'm not in my right goddamn head?” He grabs your collar bone firmly against the door. He uses violence again, that's the part you hate the most. His voice changes in a very unpleasant tone. He is real mad. “Maybe I just want to teach you a damn lesson, and you're making it hard for me.” You look at him right into his eyes. You still remain silent. “What? Cat got your tongue now? Talk back to me. Do it!” Remaining silent makes him even more angry. He pushes you hard against the door again but this time it's just too much for you to handle because your head was slammed on the door as well. Your eyes start to flutter slightly. You almost lost your balance as you try to grab his shoulder. He also grabs your waist for you to stand straight. “You belong to me. Understand? And you're gonna stay here with me.” He demanded you. “Fuck you, John... I belong to no one...” because of the pain of your head made you say so quietly as if you just murmur. You can feel that you are about to lose your consciousness. However, his eyes still fixated on you. “Yeah? Is that so? Say it again.” says in sarcastic voice as he grabs your shoulder and pin you to see your face clearly. He is pissing you off even more, you spits on his face because you can't stand him anymore. “Wrong answer.” He said. You are about to pass out now. Your both hands are on his arms, finding something to hold yourself from falling down as you rest your head on the door like a body without a soul. “You're so goddamn infuriating.” Before he can finish the sentence, you pass out beneath him. He grabs you quickly before you fall on the ground and then carefully picks you up to a dinner table then puts you down on the table. He doesn't even move you to bed, he just lets you lay down right there.

An hour later, your consciousness is back. You slowly get up and look around the room, you are looking for him. That's your first instinct. “John?” You called out his name unintentionally. There's no sign of him. You growl in pain again because your head hurts, both of your hand touching your head. While you're trying to remember about what happened before you passed out, John comes back. He opens the door and walks towards you with something in his hand. He puts the cigarette that is on his mouth down on an ashtray next to you. “Open your mouth. Wide.” He said. You're so confused right now because your consciousness is just got back. “What? What is it?” You look at something on his palm. “Tylenol. Open your mouth.” He demanded. You don't hesitate to open your mouth widely because your head hurts so bad. John puts the medicine in your mouth and pour drinking water after. The Tylenol didn't even reach your throat yet, he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you. One of his hand reaches out to your white shirt and unbuttoned it. You are shocked so you decide to push him away, he stumbles backwards. “What is wrong with you?” You said with confusion while John wipes your saliva off his lips. “You passed out and that what you have to ask?” He said. You don't understand what he is trying to tell. “You made me wait like a goddamn dog, and that's what you ask me?” He was just worried about you so much and it made him pissed. He is the type of guy who doesn't know how to say like a normal lover when he is worried. He just use bad words to express it. “Fuck off, John. Sex has nothing to do with this. Don't even think that you can use sex to bring me back because I don't.” Because you both always use sex as the solution to fix the shit that you both made up. You end up having sex with him and all of your madness goes away like nothing ever happened. “I don't want to have sex with you right now, [y/n]. You just put me through an hour of hell, worrying about your stupid ass.” He walks closer to you with your unbuttoned shirt, showing your cleavage. “What? Then why the hell did you kiss me then? It doesn't make sense.” You said back to him because you know damn well that he just wants to use sex to solve things like he always does. “Because I couldn't help it.” He holds his gaze on you. “I couldn't think about anything other than you being okay, and it pissed me off.” He said with a serious tone. He doesn't seem to be angry anymore except worrying about you. He always knows how to make you come back to him, the way he said that is just make you weaker. You decide to stay silent and listen to him. “Damn you, I'm sick of your bullshit. I'm gonna stay with you.” He insisted. “You pissed off that I might not be okay? You're the one who slammed me and made me pass out, John.” You reminded him that because you just don't understand him even you already tried to. He leans forward and puts both of his hands down on the table aside your legs, he faces you. “You can't handle even a slap without passing out. You're the most fragile thing I've ever met.” You don't get about what he says again, what he is trying to say? "You have no idea what I feel when you pass out like that, how worried I get about you. I swear, sometimes you make me feel like I want to tie you to my goddamn bed and make sure you can't get up!" He says murmured yet quite loudly. You bite your lips because of a little confusion. He is crazy. That's the only thing you can think of right now. Tie you up? That's insane. “What the fuck- You're insane.” You talk back. "Because you're reckless and careless, you give no regard to your own safety, and you're going to die because of it." He says aggressively, looking down at you with his eyes. All you do is keep staring at him because that's just too much for you.

John takes a hard exhale, running his hand through his hair. “We always have fights. That's just how we are. But you need to understand that it's different when you're unconscious and I can't even talk to you.” You can feel the worry through his voice. You know that you are everything to him even you both are in this toxic relationship that you both made. It's like a dilemma. Sometimes, you feel like you can't move forwards but you can't move backwards either. “Don't you understand that you're everything to me? And I’ll go to hell again to keep you alive.” And that was what he brought up. He saved your life once from suicide. He went to hell to bring back your life. That day he didn't hesitate to go to hell just for you. Your tears run down your beautiful face as he said that because of the vision of you being in hell is still remaining clear. John watches your expression as sighs deeply, taking another deep breath before continuing. “And you don't care, do you? Look at us, fighting as always, you passing out on me and me waiting and worrying when you won't wake up like a dog?” He looks down on the floor and murmurs. “Why the hell do we do this to ourselves?” He is blaming ourselves that we always end up fighting even after a little argument. It's how we are , just like he said. It doesn't easy to change in you both relationship.

You're staring at him with teary eyes. You can't hold back anymore. “You know... I’m not gonna last long. You bring me back from hell, that broke the rules. Lucifer will find me and drag me down to hell again. You can't protect me forever. One day, I have to die, John...” John scowls and clenches his fists. “If that bastard Lucifer gets his hands on you again, he will regret the day he ever dared to touch you.” He snapped, his voice cold and filled with rage. “I will not let him take you. I will kill every single demon that comes for you, and I will drag you out of hell every time if you end up there. Even if I have to walk to the pits of hell to find you, I will do it." He touches your hand. “I will do it again.” Your cheeks are full of tears. John slowly wipes out gently. That's why you can't get over him. His soft side is your biggest weakness. “Fuck you! I hate you, John... and I hate myself that I always lie to you that I really hate you...” John pulls you and let you lean on his chest. It is warm as if you're sitting in front of a fireplace after a long rainy day. All you can think about is that he risked his life just to have us here, sitting and fighting each other. The fact that if he couldn't come back in time, he could die in hell as well. “Damn it! You shouldn't have saved me... you should let me die... why did you do that? I shouldn't have fallen in love with you...” that's all you can say to express what you're thinking. He isn't impressed with that.

“Don't ever say that. Don't you dare wish for something like that. I saved you just to hear you say that?” He keeps saying, trying to express things that stuck in his mind because you said as if it was so useless that he saved you. All of it just because you don't want to fall in love with him? “You think I'd ever be happy letting you die, watching you die like that? Because I'd rather tear my own heart out than watch you do that. If you didn't make it, I'd go with you. I'd let Lucifer take me just so I could be with you.” The mixed feelings that are in your heart is just too much to say anything else. You end up pull his shirt abruptly and kiss him passionately. For a moment, you break the kiss and say quietly and slowly to make it very clear to him. “Don't you dare telling me that you would let Lucifer take you so you could be with me.” You squeeze his shirt and pull closer again. “I can't stand that.” One of his hands moving to grab your hip and pull your body against his. “Well, you'll have to deal with it" He mutters "Because I would." against your lips before kissing you again. “Fuck you, John.” John lets out a low moan, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “What if I die tomorrow? What if Lucifer finds me?” You asked. “Then I'll go to hell, get you, and put a bullet in Lucifer's head myself before I drag you back to earth.” John moans softly as he gives in to your kisses. “Say it again.” You whispered “I’ll go to hell and put a bullet in Lucifer's head...” John repeated while his hand moving to the back of your head and gripping your hair as he kisses you deeply. His other hand slides down to your thigh, his touch possessive and hungry as he pulls you close to him, his body craving you completely. “Finish the sentence, John.” you demanded. “And I will drag you back to earth...” He whispers against your mouth, taking another bite of your bottom lip. “Fuck-”

END

Note: I recommend you to read this next click here. It's like a sequel. It's not necessary to read both because you can understand the stories without one another. So up to you!!

.

Note: I just found that False God by Taylor Swift has the lyric that quite relate to the story omg!! Let me show you.

“We were crazy to think. Crazy to think that this could work. Remember how I said I'd die for you?”

“And I can't talk to you when you're like this. Staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town. I'm New York City. I still do it for you, babe.”

“I know heaven's a thing. I go there when you touch me. Honey hell is when I fight with you.”

“But we can patch it up good. Make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness.”

“But we might just get away with it. Religion's in your lips. Even if it's a false god. We'd still worship.”

“Still worship this love. Even if it's a false god. Even if it's a false god. Still worship this love.”

© satlun, 2024 : DO NOT PLAGIARISM OR ANY OTHER WAY OF REPHRASING

[tails-boogie-board]

Hes 8

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

[floatyflowers]

The second wife| Dark! Ozai x Wife! Reader x Platonic Dark! Zuko and Azula

Ozai murdered your husband and your baby to take you as a second wife.

Of course, he has done it secretly so he doesn't appear like the villain in your eyes.

You were the handmaiden and younger sister of his first wife, and the one he wished to marry in the first place.

So, when Ursa runs away, he marries you against your will.

Even though the marriage was forced, right after your husband and child's death, yet you held no ill intention towards your nephew and niece.

Zuko is quick to accept you as you are his aunt whom he trusts.

While Azula didn't know how to act around you, thinking that you viewed her in the same way her mother did, a monster.

But you made sure to include her in everything along with Zuko.

The healthy relationship you had with Ursa is the same one you wish for Zuko and Azula to have, one full of love and respect.

But Azula always tried to push Zuko out of some activities, she claimed 'it is a girl's thing'

"Mother should only brush my hair because I'm a girl"

Meanwhile, Zuko clings to you, telling you everything he knows, or sought knowledge about it.

Meanwhile, you hate Ozai, he is just unlike...your first husband.

Ozai is beyond redemption in your eyes.

And many days, you avoid him.

However, one day, you and Ozai were fighting about political matters and Zuko intervened to defend you.

"Stop yelling at mother, she has done nothing wrong!"

You only placed your hands on Zuko's shoulders, fearing that Ozai might hurt him.

But the glaring competition between the son and the father only ended in Ozai leaving.

Unfortunately, Ozai did not let that slide when Zuko cut in one of the political meetings.

He challenged him to an agni kai.

Something that Azula was excited about.

You tried to plead for Zuko's case.

But that made Ozai more determined.

And on that day of Agni Kai, Zuko was left defeated with a scar as a reminder.

And then banished from the fire nation for not wanting to fight his father.

But you kept sending him letters from behind your husband's back.

At first, Zuko swore to capture the avatar so he can be accepted back as an heir and into the arms of his aunt, you.

But after joining the team avatar, he swore to defeat his father and save you.

[total-dxmure]

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”

Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.

“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.

“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.

She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.

Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.

A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.

He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.

Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.

She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.

“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”

“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.

Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.

But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.

Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.

Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.

“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.

As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.

She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.

“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.

She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.

“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.

Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.

“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.

It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.

“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.

Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.

Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.

Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.

Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.

Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.

“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.

Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.

Guilt and jealousy.

Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.

“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.

Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.

“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.

Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?

“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.

Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.

“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”

“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.

“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”

“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.

“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.

A full stomach meant nausea.

“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.

Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.

“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.

Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.

“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.

She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.

Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.

She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.

“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.

“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.

JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.

Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?

“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.

“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”

Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.

“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.

Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.

“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.

Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.

“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.

“Okay.”

Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.

You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.

So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.

Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.

For now, at least.

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[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband.