#but never let it be said that i don't answer when you ask. never let it be said

[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat." 

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend." 

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board. 

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

-----------------------

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck. 

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there. 

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up. 

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered. 

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he wanted in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too!  A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking." 

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense. 

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall. 

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host. 

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again. 

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more? 

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back? 

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID." 

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard. 

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties. 

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone. 

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again. 

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him. 

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here. 

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

----------------------------

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone. 

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb. 

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this. 

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him. 

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

-----------------------------

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[my-castles-crumbling]

candle - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 356 - NSFW but not explicit

James Potter had a secret. One that he hid from everyone. His friends, his roommates, even his boyfriend.

He loved baths. Call him silly or immature, but there was something about sinking into the soapy bubbles, book in hand, music playing, candle lit, that relaxed him. The scent of a good bath bomb made him feel like a new man. And truly, it was much easier to exfoliate in the comfort of the tub, rather than balancing his long limbs precariously in the shower.

But he'd always been a bit nervous that people would make fun of him for his little vice. He was quite comfortable with his masculinity, but he'd never heard of a man talking about enjoying a nice bath. So he hid his love of it.

Until one day, Regulus came home early.

"James?" his boyfriend called, announcing his presence as he let himself into James and Sirius's flat.

And James's stomach dropped. What would Regulus say? Would he judge?

"Er..." he answered. But it was too late. He was too big to hide under the water, too honest to stay silent and pretend nobody was home. So he waited, heart pounding, as Regulus's footsteps approached.

And then he appeared. "Are you taking a bath?" Regulus asked, looking around the room and taking in the scene.

"I..." he couldn't exactly lie. "Don't judge, Reggie. It's relaxing."

But rather than poke fun or laugh at him, Regulus stepped into the bathroom another step, surveying James's meticulously built bath time routine. "Seems a bit romantic," he said lightly after a moment. "Can I join?"

And immediately, James's slowly calming heart kicked into triple-time. Did Regulus mean what he thought he meant? "J-join?"

"Yes," Regulus nodded, hand slowly making it's way to the hem of his shirt as he grinned. "It's been a long day. I could use some relaxation, too. And it looks so lovely in there." But his eyes weren't looking at the bubbles when he said that. They were looking directly at James's naked body.

"Fuck," James said hoarsely. "Yeah, please join."

And suddenly, baths were a secret between the two of them.

[itneverendshere]

the first relapse being the most scariest thing you’ve seen. sarah’s even calling you about him like “dads trying to get his doctor on the line just in case he od’s”

added this to what i'd already summarized in this ask!! hope everyone enjoys the angst 😔🫂 it’s a little long (around 7.1k)

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: substance abuse.

Ward’s sitting at the dining table, barely glancing up from his phone when Rafe walks in. His jaw clenches. That look—so cold, so dismissive—always sets something off in him.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks, already knowing this isn’t just a normal night.

Ward doesn’t answer right away, just sighs like Rafe being here is another weight on his shoulders. “Your mother called today.”

Rafe freezes.

He doesn’t have to ask which mother. Ward’s new wife has nothing to do with this. His real mom. The one who left.

He tries to stay calm, but he can feel his blood pumping, “What’d she want?”

“She says she wants to see you. You and your sisters.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding harder now. The audacity of it. She always did this—popped back in when it was convenient for her, like they were just part of her life she could pick up and drop whenever she felt like it.

When was the last time? A couple of years? Before that? It doesn’t matter.

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

“No, I said no.” The anger wells up fast, a familiar burn in his chest. He stands there, fists clenched. “She’s full of shit, dad. She doesn't give a fuck about us. So, no. I’m not seeing her.”

Ward looks up, calm as ever, but there's that edge in his eyes—the one that always makes Rafe feel like a little kid who’s stepped out of line. “You’re overreacting. She’s still your mother.”

“My mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. His fists tighten at his sides. “She left. She fucking left us. She’s not my mother. She’s just some lady who couldn’t handle shit.”

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

“Watch my mouth?” Rafe barks back, stepping forward, his anger boiling over. “I watched her leave me every time she got bored or freaked out. And you—you didn’t do shit!.You just let it happen. Let her walk out over and over.”

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

He’s too pissed to think straight. “What? You gonna defend her? You’re the one who let her fuck me up like this! You—”

“Stop blaming everyone else for your problems,” Ward snaps, his voice rising. "Grow up. She left.  And you’re still standing here acting like a child over it.”

Something inside Rafe cracks. His chest tightens like someone’s squeezing the air out of him. "A child? You don't get it. You never got it. She fucked me up. She fucked all of us up, and you're still acting like it's nothing." His mind is spinning, flashing back to all those nights he was too high to breathe, too strung out to care if he woke up the next day. He feels like he’s suffocating, the anger burning too fast. “I’m not doing this again, dad. I’m not.”

Ward’s gaze turns cold. “She’s trying now. That has to count for something.”

“Trying? Trying?!” Rafe grits out, stepping forward. All those years, all those broken promises, all the times he was left wondering what the hell he did wrong to make her leave—and now Ward wants him to sit down like it’s a fucking family reunion. 

“I don’t care what you think about it, Rafe. This isn’t up for discussion. You will see her, and that’s final.”

“No. No fucking way!” He shouts, his voice shaking as he steps closer to Ward, fists clenched. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not going to sit there and pretend like everything’s okay when she’s the reason I turned into the mess I was. And you—” His chest heaves as he fights to find the words, his throat tight. “You’re just as bad as she is.”

Ward’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he continues, “Every time she left, you didn’t do a goddamn thing. You let her walk all over us. You let her leave me, leave us, and you never said a word. You’re a shitty father, just as bad as her."

Ward’s face darkens, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however the hell I want,” Rafe fires back, stepping even closer, eyes blazing. “You didn’t stop her. You never protected me. You sat there and watched her fuck me up and then turned around and blamed me for it. Like I was the problem.”

“You were the problem,” Ward snaps, “She didn’t know how to handle you, and neither did I. You were a fucking disaster, Rafe. And that’s on you.”

“No. You two were and are the fucking problem because you can’t let go of her.”

Ward takes a step forward, “This isn’t about you. It’s about your sisters. Sarah wants this. Weezie deserves a chance to know her mother. It’s not all about your issues, Rafe. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” He feels like he’s suffocating, “You think I’m the one who needs to grow up? 

“Enough. You will meet her, or you can leave this house right now.”

All the work he's put in, all the shit he's tried to fix, feels like it’s slipping right through his fingers. He can’t be here. Not like this. He’s out the door before he even knows what he’s doing. That itch beneath his skin is back after years, that’s how much control his parents have over him.

Rafe’s hands are still shaking as he gets into his truck, slamming the door harder than he means to. It feels like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, and his thoughts are spinning, they’re all crashing into each other at once. The fight with his father keeps replaying in his head, louder and louder, until he can’t hear anything else.

He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His dad’s voice, cold and cutting, telling him he’s the problem. That he’s always been the problem. His hands are shaking worse now, trembling like he’s about to snap, and there’s only one thought pounding through his mind: He can’t go to you like this.

The thought of walking through your door, this messed up, makes him feel sick. You’ve seen him at his worst before, but this… this feels different. He can’t let you see him like this—not the old Rafe. Not the one who almost lost everything.

You don’t need to see that. You don’t deserve it.

He knows where he can go instead. Somewhere he shouldn’t, somewhere he swore he’d never go again. But right now, it feels like the only place that makes sense. His head’s spinning, his body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and anger, and he just needs it to stop.

So, he turns the key in the ignition and drives. It doesn’t take long to get to Barry’s. He knows the back roads by heart, even though it’s been years. He pulls up to the small shack Barry calls home, the lights still on, music thumping faintly from inside. It’s like nothing’s changed. The same rundown place, the same shitty cars parked out front, the same smell of smoke and spilled liquor lingering in the air.

Rafe sits there for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavy. He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. 

He climbs out of the truck, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking, and heads toward the door. The second he steps inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and weed hits him like a wave, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried.

Barry’s lounging on the couch, a joint hanging from his mouth, lazily flipping through channels on the TV.

“Country Club!”, Barry drawls when he notices him, smirking around the joint. “Now this is a surprise. Didn’t think I’d ever see you walk through that door again. Thought you were all clean now, with your pretty little girlfriend.”

He tenses at the mention of you. But he can’t walk out now. Not after what just happened with Ward. Not when everything inside him feels like it’s about to blow.

“I just need something,” Rafe mutters, avoiding Barry’s eyes, already regretting this but not enough to stop.

Barry raises an eyebrow, amused. “Something, huh? You know, you’ve got a real habit of showing up here when you’re all fucked up.” He laughs, low and mocking. “What’s the matter this time? Daddy issues again?”

His jaw tightens. “Just give me what I want.”

Barry leans back, flicking ash onto the floor. “You sure you wanna go down that road again, man? Thought you were past this shit.”

“I don’t care,” Rafe snaps, his voice low, shaking with frustration and something darker. “You know what I want. Go get it.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, Barry just looks at him, sizing him up. Then, with a shrug, he gets up, disappearing into the back room. Rafe waits, heart pounding in his ears, staring at the floor, trying not to think about what he’s doing. About what this means.

Barry comes back a minute later, a small bag of coke in his hand. He tosses it onto the table in front of Rafe, “Knock yourself out.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the bag, his fingers already moving on autopilot as he pulls out his wallet and shoves a roll of cash toward Barry. He knows this is stupid, reckless. He knows this is going to hurt you, more than anything else. But ll he wants is to forget. Just for a little while.

His hands stop shaking the second he takes that first line.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

You’re already drained when you step through the front door of the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch. The sticky summer air is clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower and to crash in bed. 

The day’s been dragging—work was a shitshow, and all you’ve been thinking about is Rafe. You haven’t heard from him since this morning, which isn’t weird, but there’s been this nagging feeling in your chest, like something’s off.

“Hey,” Monica calls from the kitchen as you grab a glass of water and lean against the counter. She’s scrolling through her phone, half-distracted. Milo’s at kindergarten.

“Hey,” you mumble back. “Everything alright?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “Yeah, mostly.” She pauses, frowning slightly, like she’s trying to piece something together. “I think I saw Rafe’s truck earlier. Over by Barry’s place.”

You blink, trying to process what she just said. “Barry’s?”

“Yeah, you know. The guy who used to sell—Whatever.” Monica shrugs again, more casual than you feel. “I was driving back from work, and I swear it was Rafe’s truck parked outside Barry’s house.”

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Looked like his truck,” your sister says, “Thought it was weird. Figured maybe he was helping someone out or something.”

But you know better.

A cold sweat breaks out over your skin. You’ve heard Rafe talk about Barry. Back when things were bad—really bad—he was the one who kept him hooked, who kept pulling him deeper. He told you everything about those years when he was drowning in addication and Barry’s name came up more than once.

And if his truck’s outside Barry’s, you know something’s wrong.

It’s like a pit in your stomach, this gnawing feeling that’s been sitting with you all day. 

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s impossible. “Rafe doesn’t… he doesn’t go there anymore. He hasn’t in years.”

Monica frowns, finally understanding. “Oh. Shit. You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, already pulling out your phone, fingers wobbly as you open your messages. You scroll through the last few texts from Rafe, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Except the silence. He’s usually better at checking in, especially when he knows you’ve had a long day. But today? Nothing.

You stare at your screen, debating if you should call him. But deep down, you already know something’s happened. He wouldn’t go to Barry’s unless things were really bad.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” your sister offers, but her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure. “Maybe he was just stopping by. It doesn’t mean—”

But she doesn’t finish, and you don’t need her to. You know what it means. You feel it in your bones. He’s back in that dark place—And he didn’t come to you. He went to Barry instead.

Why didn’t he come to you?

“I need to go,” you say, your voice coming out more panicked than you’d like, but you can’t help it. Your heart’s racing, your mind is spinning, and the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. You’re grabbing your keys off the counter before your sister can even answer.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” Monica asks, a bit alarmed now, but you don’t have time to explain.

“I need to find Rafe.”

Your sister steps forward, “Is it really that serious? I mean, maybe he’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” you cut her off, shaking your head. “If he’s at Barry’s, it’s bad.”

Rafe had told you everything about his past—every ugly detail about the years he spent losing himself, the drugs, the fights, the constant mess of it all. He had opened up to you after your first time together. And for the past two years you’d seen him, the real Rafe, the one who tried so damn hard to be better.

And now? He’s slipping. And you weren’t there.

Your mind is racing as you drive. You think about how good things have been with him—how far he’s come. He’s not the guy he used to be. He doesn’t party like he used to, doesn’t need to numb everything with lines of coke or bottles of whiskey.

He told you about his time in rehab, how scared he was of becoming that version of himself again. But something must’ve happened.

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

The thought is suffocating. You know him—he’s reckless and impulsive sometimes, but he’s been so careful with you, always making sure you never had to see the side of him that scared him the most. He’s opened up about his struggles with anxiety, about how he sometimes still smokes weed to take the edge off, but this… this is different. 

This is worse.

It had to be Ward. He’s has always had this chokehold on him, making him feel like he’s never good enough. And whenever his mom gets brought up—whenever she’s even mentioned—it messes with him in ways you can barely understand. She’s the one person who could make him spiral, and Ward is the one person who could push him over that edge.

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

He’s dealing with this alone, and now he’s gone back to Barry. To coke. To everything that almost killed him before. You pull up to his place, your stomach churning. You can see Rafe’s truck parked haphazardly outside, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

You sit there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to calm yourself down, trying to figure out what the hell you’re even going to say when you see him.

You get out of the car and practically run toward Barry’s door. You know this place, know the people who come here and what they’re looking for. You’re pretty sure your dad spent half his life here, when Barry’s dad still ran the business. 

You don’t even knock. You push the door open. Barry’s on the couch, looking up lazily when you walk in, and you see Rafe—sitting in the corner, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.

He looks like a ghost.

Barry snickers from the couch, taking a drag from his joint. “Well, well, look who it is. Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here together.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barry,” you snap, glaring at him before turning your full attention to Rafe. “What are you doing here?”

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

He tries to stand, his movements slow, like his body isn’t responding the way he wants it to. His eyes are bloodshot, unfocused, his pupils blown wide, and he’s swaying slightly, barely able to keep his balance.

“I just... I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles, the words slurring together. His hand goes to his hair, but it’s shaking, and he can’t even look at you. “It’s not—”

“It’s not what?” You feel your heart breaking with every word, the cracks widening as you take in the mess of him, his clothes disheveled, his face pale, his hands twitching.

He stumbles again, trying to step toward you, but he’s so high he can barely stand. “I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he rasps out, finally meeting your eyes for just a second before looking away. “Didn’t want you to... think I was still... still that guy.”

“You’re not that guy anymore,” you say softly, even though right now, he looks too much like that guy. “But you’re acting like him.”

His head drops, and he looks down at the floor, his shoulders sagging, defeated. “Didn’t know...what else to do.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” Your voice breaks on the last word, “You went to Barry instead of me?”

“Hey now—"

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” You almost scream in Barry's face, your chest rising with each breath you take. Rafe can't stand to look you in the eyes right now. He can't see the disappointment.

“You always know what to do. You call me. You come to me. Why would you run here? Why would you go back to this?” You glance at Barry, who’s watching the whole scene with a smirk on his face like he’s enjoying every second of your heartbreak. “You’re better than this. Get in the car. We can talk about this.”

But he shakes his head, his breath shaky. “Can’t… can’t be with you right now.”

“Why?” 

 “Just… too much. Hurts too much.” He looks down, guilt washing over him. “Didn’t want you to see... this.”

“Then get in the car. We can figure this out together.” Your voice cracks, the hurt pouring out.

He hesitates, shaking his head again. “I… can’t.”

It pushes something inside you.

Maybe you’ll regret it later but now it’s all you can think about. If he doesn’t want your help, he doesn’t want you. And if he doesn’t want you right now he doesn’t deserve to want you when he’s better. 

“You can either get in this car and fight with me, or you can stay here. But if you stay—”

“Y-You’ll leave?” He’s looking at you despite the fog in his brain, not sure if he’s hearing you correctly, “Leave me?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

He’s never said anything like that to you before.

“I’m not leaving you, but if you stay here, with him,” you jerk your head in Barry’s direction, “I can’t help you. I can’t pull you out of this if you don’t want to get out.”

You know you can’t fix this for him. He has to make the choice. His eyes dart toward Barry for a second, and Barry just shrugs, clearly not giving a damn about anything but his next hit. 

“I love you, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

For a second, you think maybe you’ve gotten through to him, because his eyes soften behind all that darkness. But then he shakes his head again, looking at the floor like he’s already made his decision.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters, barely audible. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Your heart breaks a little more at that. “Yes you do, baby. You do. You just need to believe it.”

If he doesn’t come with you, you’re not sure where this ends for him. He’s stuck, frozen in place, trapped by whatever’s going on in his head, and you realize that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you want to save him, you can’t force him to choose you. You can’t make him get in the car.

“You have to decide,” you say quietly, voice breaking. “Me or this. You can’t have both.”

Rafe looks up at you, eyes glossy, and for a second, you think he might actually say something — something that will make this all okay, something that will bring him back to you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, torn apart by his demons, his lips pressed into a line. You feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

“Okay,” you nod, barely holding back tears. “I guess that’s my answer.”

You turn and walk out the door, your heart shattering with every inch of distance you put between you and him. You don't look back, because if you do, you know you’ll drag him out yourself, and you can’t do that. Not now. But as you get into your car and grip the steering wheel with your entire strength, the sobs come anyway.

You don’t want to leave him. God, you don’t want to. But he didn’t choose you. Not this time.

Rafe doesn’t even register the sound of the door slamming behind you. It’s like he’s watching everything happen from somewhere far away, his body numb, his mind completely blank. You said something, you were upset—he knows that much—but the words never really hit him. They just floated around. He sinks back down into the chair, staring at the floor, heart racing but completely detached. The room is spinning a little, his chest tight, but he can’t feel anything. Can’t let himself feel anything. It’s better this way. Safer.

You left.

He knows that happened, but it doesn’t mean anything right now. He can’t process it. Not in this state. Not when the drugs are still in his system, making everything feel like it’s underwater. He blinks a few times, trying to get his brain to catch up, but it’s not working. It’s just static.

Barry’s voice is somewhere in the background, laughing about something, but he doesn’t hear him either. It’s like the world’s on mute. His body’s still buzzing from the high, fingers twitching, muscles tense, but inside? Inside he’s empty.

Hours pass, maybe. Time doesn’t exist here, not when he’s this far gone. The light changes through the window, but it could be minutes or days for all he knows. He drifts in and out, his head heavy, eyes closing, but sleep never comes. Just darkness. Maybe he did too many lines.

At some point, he wakes up—if you can call it that. His body feels like it weights two hundred pounds, his head is spinning, his mouth dry and sour. He blinks against the light, his vision blurry, trying to figure out where the hell he is. 

It takes a second for everything to catch up. To realize he’s at Barry’s.

And then, it hits him all at once. You.

You were here. You were mad. And then you were gone.

His chest tightens, a sick, sinking feeling crawling up his throat. He sits up too fast, his head swimming. Fuck.He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing. His thoughts are still sluggish. You left. You walked out, and he… he didn’t stop you. Didn’t even try.

Why didn’t he stop you?

Before he can think too much about it, Barry saunters in, a smug grin on his face, holding a beer in one hand, a joint in the other. He takes one look at Rafe, slouched and disoriented, and lets out a low, mocking laugh.

“Well, well, well,” Barry drawls, leaning against the doorframe, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Look who’s finally awake. You done fucked it up, Country Club.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

Barry raises an eyebrow, taking a drag from the joint, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Thought you were smarter than that.”

Rafe just stares at the floor, his stomach twisting. He can’t remember exactly what he said to you. But the look on your face… he can’t forget that. The disappointment. The hurt.

Barry chuckles, settling down on the couch across from him. “What was it? You running your mouth again, or did she just get tired of you being a fuckup?”

The shame is settling in now, creeping up his spine. He doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t want to hear anything. But Barry just keeps going, like he’s enjoying watching him fall apart.

“Should’ve seen it coming, man,” Barry continues, “Girl like that? She was bound to leave eventually.”

If he felt strong enough he would’ve punched that joint out of his mouth, his teeth following next. Who the fuck did he think he was to talk about you like he knew you.

He knows Barry’s just trying to get under his skin, but it’s working. He feels sick. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to push it all away, but it’s no use.

“You done fucked it up, Country Club,” Barry repeats, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And now you’re right back here. Same old Rafe.”

Same old Rafe. He told himself he’d never end up here again. He swore he was done with this. Done with Barry, done with the drugs, done with the guy he used to be.

But now? Now he’s right back where he started. And the worst part? He let you see it. He doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t know if he even can fix this. But the one thing he does know? He should’ve crawled after you.

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. His hands are already moving, reaching for the small bag of coke on the table. His fingers tremble as they close around it, the weight of the plastic barely registering in his hand. 

Barry watches him, that same smug grin never leaving his face, taking another drag of his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a low chuckle. He’s not surprised. Not at all.

"Of course," Barry mutters, shaking his head in amusement. “Of course, you're takin’ that shit with you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t fight him. He can feel Barry’s eyes on him, feel the judgment radiating off him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not anymore. 

Not after everything he’s already fucked up. He stuffs the bag in his jacket pocket, standing up on shaky legs, the room still spinning a little as he stumbles toward the door. His mind is on autopilot, moving without him, as if the drugs are the only thing holding him together. 

"Attaboy, Country Club," Barry calls after him, voice dripping with condescension, laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. “Just keep runnin’. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

Rafe’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his teeth grinding together, but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t look at Barry—he can’t look at any of this—so he does what he always does.

He walks away. He doesn’t think. He just keeps moving, out of the door, out into the night, the bag burning a hole in his pocket.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

It’s been two weeks since you last saw him.

Two weeks of silence, of unanswered calls and texts that sit there on your screen and make you cry every time you look at them. You told him you’d leave, but you didn’t mean it. You never meant it.

You just needed him to fight. For himself. But he didn’t.

And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. It physically hurts.

Every morning you wake up with this heavy impossible ache in your chest, and it only gets worse as the day goes on. You keep wondering where he is, if he’s okay, if he’s even thinking about you or if he’s too far gone to care.

You miss him. God, you miss him.

Now you don’t even know where he is. If he’s still spiraling or if he’s hit rock bottom.

You’ve barely been able to keep it together at work. Every time you try to focus, that image of Rafe in his absolute worst slips in, and you never get anything done. You’ve called in sick twice, just to stay in bed and cry, because you can barely breathe.

You’ve reached out to Sarah a few times, trying to understand what’s going on, but she doesn’t know much either. "He’s off the grid," she’d told you last time, "Doesn’t want to talk to anyone."

That was a week ago.

And now you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, debating if you should try one more time. One more call. One more text.

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

Sarah’s name flashes on the screen, and you nearly drop the damn thing. “Sarah?”

“Hey,” You can hear it immediately—something’s wrong. “Are you home right now?”

Your stomach drops, “Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

You can hear her take a shaky breath. “It’s Rafe. He’s, shit, it’s bad. Like, really bad.”

 “What do you mean, bad? Sarah, what happened?”

“Dad’s trying to get his doctor on the line,” she says, her voice cracking. “Just in case he ODs.”

Your blood turns ice cold.

“He’s not picking up,” she continues, her words spilling out in a rush, like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking down. “Dad’s freaking out, and Rafe—he’s not making sense. He’s been on a bender for days, and now he’s just... he’s not there. I don’t know what to do. I thought maybe you could—”

“I’m coming,” you say, cutting her off, already standing, your body moving on autopilot.

You hang up before she can say anything else, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to Tannyhill  feels like it takes forever as your mind comes up with worst-case scenarios. You’ve seen Rafe struggle before—you’ve seen the dark places he’s been—but if Sarah’s calling you, if Ward’s getting a doctor involved….

You barely notice you’ve already parked the car, barely notice the front door swinging open as you run inside. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Sarah’s standing by the staircase, her eyes red and puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just nods toward the living room.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s slumped on the couch, his body limp, his eyes half-open but glazed over, like he’s not even seeing what’s in front of him. His skin is pale, clammy, his hands twitching every few seconds, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks like half a version of himself, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Ward’s pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I don’t care if he’s busy, get him here now. He’s going to fucking die.”

“Rafe?” you call, stepping toward him. But he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even flinch. He just stares ahead, eyes unfocused, like he’s not even aware you’re there.

Sarah’s standing behind you now, her voice low, “He won’t talk to us. He’s too far gone.”

You sink down beside him, your heart breaking at the sight of him like this. You reach out, hesitating for a second before gently placing your hand on his arm.

“Rafe,” your voice wavers. “Baby, it’s me. Please… please talk to me.”

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes meet yours—but it’s like looking at a ghost. The person you know, the person you love, isn’t there. Not right now. Not in this moment. And it kills you.

You keep whispering his name, pleading for him to wake up, to do something, but nothing works.

Ward's still on the phone, pacing like a caged animal, his voice a angry hum in the background. His eyes flick over to you every few minutes, but he doesn’t say anything. Sarah’s standing off to the side, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red and puffy from crying. You can see how scared she is, and you’re glad they got Weezie out of the house before she could see this. 

After what feels like an eternity, the front door bursts open, and a doctor rushes in, followed by a paramedic with a bag of medical equipment. The doctor, some guy Ward must have on speed dial for situations like this, doesn’t waste any time. He kneels down beside Rafe, checking his pulse, his pupils, his breathing.

“This is bad,” the doctor mutters, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

Lucky. 

The paramedic moves in, setting up an oxygen mask, checking Rafe’s vitals, and it feels like the room is spinning. You try to stay calm, try to keep your hand on Rafe.

Ward finally hangs up the phone and stands there, watching as the doctor works. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, his voice strained because god forbid he shows more emotion.

The doctor glances up, his expression grim. “We need to take him in. I’m stabilizing him, but if this had gone on any longer, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

You feel like you're going to be sick.

The paramedic starts prepping him for transport, and you stand there, helpless, watching as they move him onto a stretcher. His body looks so limp, so fragile. They’re talking about taking him to the hospital for observation, but all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears.

Ward steps forward, he watches his son being carried away. For the first time, you see it—real fear in his eyes. 

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ward says, his voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped it. This is my fault.”

You feel something snap inside of you.  “I’m sure it fucking is.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there like a fucking idiot. Sarah is beside you now, her hand on your arm, gently pulling you back. “Let’s go,” she mutters,“We should go with him.”

You nod, swallowing as you follow her out of the house, leaving Ward standing there alone.

You climb into your car, Sarah beside you, and you both sit there for a moment in silence, watching as the ambulance pulls away, taking Rafe with it.

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

You close your eyes, and nod. “So am I.”

You have to remind yourself to breathe. She sits beside you, staring straight ahead and neither of you says another word.

The hospital is quiet when you arrive, eerily so. You both rush in, Sarah at your side, searching for the emergency room and after a bunch of paperwork and hurried conversations, you’re finally led to the waiting room. The doctor said they’d keep you updated, and you sit down on those stiff, uncomfortable chairs, the waiting begins.

Minutes drag by like hours. You try to text or scroll through your phone, anything to distract yourself, but you can’t focus. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Rafe. It’s like your brain is stuck on replay, and you can’t shut it off. Sarah’s over there biting her lip until it’s bleeding. Every now and then, she looks at you, like she’s about to say something, but then she doesn’t. And you don’t either. You can’t. What the hell would you even say? It feels like you’re both waiting for the worst possible news and just pretending you’re not.

After what feels like forever, the doctor finally comes through the doors, and Sarah and you jump up at the same time. 

The doctor sighs, and he looks tired, like this isn’t the first time he’s delivered news like this today.

“We stabilized him,” he says, “He was really close to an overdose, but we got to him in time. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are stable for now. We’ll keep him under observation for at least 24 hours.”

You finally take a deep breath, but it’s shaky, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Sarah doesn’t even hesitate. The second the doctor says Rafe’s stable, she’s heading towards his room, like she needs to see him, to make sure for herself that he’s really still here. You don’t follow her, though. Your legs feel like they’re made of concrete, if you move, you’ll just collapse right there in the hallway.

As much as you want to be with him, to hold his hand or just… see him breathing, you know you can’t handle it. Not right now. You’ve spent the last two weeks trying to hold it together, and this is the first time you feel like you can finally breathe. Like you’re not suffocating with worry.

What you need more than anything is to get out of here. To just breathe, to close your eyes for more than a minute without the image of him passed out, strung out, burned into your brain. You need sleep. You need to feel something other than panic. He’s gonna be okay. Maybe not perfect, maybe not healed, but for now, he’s alive. 

The next day, you finally gather the courage to see him. You feel like you might throw up at any second. You stop outside his room, staring at the door for what feels like forever, trying to convince yourself to go inside.

He’s lying in bed, looking like he barely walked out of this one alive, but he’s awake. His eyes meet yours the second you step inside, and you feel like you’re going to start crying at any given second. 

“Hey,” You manage to say, You don’t trust your voice to be strong enough to say something more.

Rafe blinks, like he’s surprised to see you. His voice is rough when he speaks, cracked from everything his body’s been through. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” He’s genuinely shocked. As if he thought you’d just walk away from all of this. From him. You swallow hard, taking a step closer to the bed. “Of course I came, Rafe.” Your voice is soft, barely holding together. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker away from yours, settling on the IV in his arm, like he can’t stand to look at you. 

“Sarah called me. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he still won’t meet your eyes. “She shouldn’t have,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, barely there.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Rafe. You scared the shit out of her—out of everyone. And I’ve been sitting here for two weeks, waiting for you to say something, anything, and you just—” You stop yourself, your throat closing up, and you bite your lip to keep from crying. “You almost died.”

You can see his chest rising and falling slowly, and for a split second, you think he’s not going to answer at all. That he’s just going to keep shutting you out. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see how fucked up I am.”

Your heart breaks all over again because you’ve already seen it. You’ve seen every part of him—the good, the bad, the absolute worst. And you’re still here. You’re still standing in this stupid hospital room because you love him. He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You step closer to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe. Just a little bit.

“Don’t say that,” you reach for his hand. He flinches at first but doesn’t pull away when you lace your fingers with his. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. But you can’t keep pushing me away. I need you to let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, his face twisting in pain, “Ward wanted us to meet mom and I just—”

You’ve never fully understood what his mom meant to him, or maybe what losing her did to him, now you do. That deep-rooted pain that always seems to haunt him when he talks about her is stronger than you’ve ever seen before. 

“I didn’t want you to see this mess. I don’t want anyone to. I’m a fucking disaster. Every time I try to fix something, I just make it worse. I just—” He breaks off, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to swallow down the rest of his words, the ones he can’t say out loud.

“You spent years sober, that’s not easy,” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him carefully, not caring if he feels like a mess or if you’re being too much. You just want him to feel like he’s not alone. “Baby, I know you’re hurting,” you murmur into his shoulder, “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” He confesses, “I hurt you.”

“You have,” you admit, “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving. I’m not gonna give up on you.”

He looks away, like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s waiting for you to just walk out of that hospital room and never look back. But you don’t.

You tighten your grip on his hand, "You don’t get to decide that for me.  I’m still here because I love you. Even when you push me away.”

“You shouldn’t love me,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of fact, like it’s already been decided.

You shake your head, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his cheek. “But I do, Rafe. I always will. Even when you don’t think you deserve it, we’ll figure it out, together, okay? One step at a time.”

He nods, barely, but it's something. It’s a start.

[mezzo-morte]

Being a Mulder/Scully shipper (aka everyone except Chris Carter) is such a profoundly confusing experience.

You get gaslit by the showrunner himself because for the first 6(?) seasons the characters are platonic. You get six years of them glancing at the other's lips, standing and walking so closely they're always touching, you get tender touches and warm embraces, you get forehead kisses, you get displays of jealousy and one of them even admitting to being territorial. You get this as soon as the damn pilot.

You get Mulder speaking into Scully's hair, you get Scully cradling and singing to him, you get Mulder making a scene threatening to fight anyone in sight when Scully is returned to the hospital, you get Scully wanting to have his child of all people.

You get that the connection is so profound they only trust the other and would (and have) gone to hell and back for their partner.

You have all of these feelings culminating in the intense way in which they gaze at each other, both directly and when the other isn't looking.

Then you have the actors, who were so horned up and fed up with the tension they went off script and made out like that, the same actors who did photoshoots in bed and kissed at award shows and interviews despite never being together, despite the characters never being canonically a couple. You get David, who when asked if he played it like he wanted Scully, he said he simply played it like he cares about her input and you get Gillian, who kissed David in the mouth before turning to kiss her husband when she won an emmy in 1997.

It's clearly love and although the absence of romance and sex don't make a connection any less legitimate or meaningful, I just don't buy it that there was never supposed to be an attraction from the beginning. That they remained friends for that long.

And still you're left questioning if it isn't all just projection because the two actors are so insanely attractive you can't help but want to see them in a sexual setting. If it's all just two good friends having so much chemistry that it makes it easy to come off as romantic. You're left to wonder if you have just been so blind in your own personal life that you have never so much as seen that kind of connection in marriages, let alone with coworkers. That perhaps you've just never had the fortune of having such a special connection with your platonic friend that you make out just for fun. You're made to believe that what you're seeing isn't desire but a deep understanding and care for the other's well being and happiness.

What is the truth. It's out there and at this point I have to believe it's all a ploy from the shadow government and Old Smokey himself to cover up what everyone already knows. The evidence is right in front of us and they keep trying to veer towards a specific answer and call bias if you don't agree.

[entiqua]

I love your artstyle!! Do you have any tips for drawing?

thank you so much! i'm really happy you like it!!💗 as for tips, what i would say would change drastically depending on what kind you're looking for, but some very general ones:

draw what you love and want to see most, regardless of whether anyone else wants to see it. if you don't enjoy what you're drawing it'll never come out as good or genuine as something your whole heart and soul is in. i mean you'd think this would be a no-brainer but sometimes i've had to sit back and ask myself 'if no one was ever going to see this except me, would i actually spend time drawing this?' and i was surprised by the answer

that said, it is also completely valid if your motivation for drawing is to draw for other people! there have been plenty of times where i was too artblocked to draw my own ideas but was still able to draw commissions or gifts and enjoyed it simply because making other people happy with my art makes me happy.

don't get too caught up in having a consistent art style. in my experience this 1000% hinders you

having your sense of anatomy degrade over time without you noticing because you keep drawing the same types of characters is a very real thing! if this is a concern to you be sure to draw a variety

follow a billion artists that you like the art of and you will have endless inspiration injected directly into your brain every time you open social media

my favourite practical tip for those who draw at a desk: keep a small mirror next to you at all times. absolute game changer for quickly referencing hands

if you're drawing digitally, make the canvas huge! in my experience this lets you draw messier/faster and you can't tell at all when you zoom out. if you tend to get stuck spending unnecessary amounts of time micromanaging pixels (me💀) keep it zoomed out while drawing

related to the above point, messy drawings can have far more expressiveness in them than neat and polished drawings. nowadays i never do lineart and go straight from 'barebones stickman pose' to 'varying-levels-of-coherent sketch' and use that as my lineart. sweet freedom from the sketch-looks-better-than-the-lineart phenomenon

if your goal is to improve, then you really do have to scrutinize your art, figure out what you're not satisfied with, and commit the time to focusing on it. 'practice makes perfect' kinda rubs me the wrong way because of how much i've seen it interpreted as 'just draw everyday and you'll magically improve' but genuinely it won't get you very far if you don't actively think hard about what you're trying to improve and take the steps to do it. is this a hot take idk. also hand in hand with this, not every artist is trying to improve and you shouldn't feel bad for this! maybe you just wanna make a little headshot doodle of your fave blorbo and that's your only drawing goal ever. awesome. maybe you know your art has flaws but it's passable enough to convey what you want and you're perfectly satisfied with that. (this is the stage i'm usually at). also awesome!

don't hesitate to draw something because you think it's out of your skill level. the worst that can happen if you draw it is that it comes out terribly but you learned something and can always redraw it better in the future. the worst that WILL happen if you don't draw it is that you'll never draw it. and then it will sit in the back of your brain haunting you for years. it's not like i'm speaking from experience or anything aha

look up 'hand stretches for artists' and do them if you draw a lot unless you wish to summon the wrath of the carpal tunnel demons

of course, these may not necessarily work for you, and most importantly(!) these are coming from the perspective of someone who is primarily a hobbyist. some of this won't be practical for people who need to build an audience, maintain a consistent style for work, etc. these are just things that have personally helped me over many years of drawing :)

[aestheticaltcow]

No Phone Policy 6.0

The final part of No Phone Policy: I had a lot of different ending ideas for this, but low-key. The seasonal depression is hitting pretty hard, so we get an okay ending instead of a fire ending. There may be an epilogue, but don't quote me on that.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N? You’re scaring me…” Mars begged as she kneeled beside you, brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. After what had happened with Carmy, you’d come to her downtown apartment. You didn’t answer her question. You closed your eyes and tried to take a breath, only for it to get caught in your throat.

Mars sighed and let you be in her guest room. 

Your Dad, on the other hand, had none of this. When Mars had updated him on what was happening, he was mentally preparing to go to prison for the rest of his life. He was going to kill Carmen Berzatto and happily admit to doing it. No one hurt one of his little girls and got away with it. 

He pulled up to you and Carmy’s house early that afternoon. He parked next to Carmy’s car and calmly approached the door. He remembered where the two of you hid your spare key and let himself in. 

“Carmen,” he called as he began walking upstairs, clenching and unclenching his fists as he vaguely remembered the layout of your home. He saw an open door and confidently walked in to see Carmy holding his granddaughter. Her eyes were wide as she furious sucked on a tie-dye pacifier, “Oh hey Marty. Y/N isn’t here..” Carmy trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how much you’d told your dad. 

“That’s Mr. Y/L/N to you, Carmen. Now, give me my granddaughter and start explaining what you did to my buggy,” he said authoritatively. Carmy sighed and handed Wolf off to him.

“Hi, gorgeous girl. You look just like your mommy- why is your mommy not here? Did your daddy do something stupid?” 

Carmy swallowed as he stood before Marty awkwardly, “We’ve been fighting… she has some fuckin’ postpartum thing. I don’t know- I wanted things to go back to the way they were, and I guess I pushed her too far. I didn’t hurt her- at least this time… she was ignoring me, and I grabbed her wrists, but this time, she fell down the stairs and ran off. She isn’t answering my calls, so I don’t know where she is.” 

Marty didn’t believe him for a dam second. “Be so happy I’m holding my granddaughter right now, or I’d beat the crap out of you, Carmen.”

Carmy nodded, knowing it was true, “Look, Mar- Mr. Y/L/N, I love Y/N more than I could ever. I’ve been killin’ myself over missing Wolf’s birth since she came out. I fuckin’ failed as a father and as a husband. I- I don’t deserve your daughter; I never have, and I never will. I just wanna talk to her. If she wants to leave, I’ll sign whatever- I just wanna see my daughter.” Carmy swallowed softly, suppressing the urge to cry.

~

Carmy dug through his closet that morning as Natalie sat on his bed, holding Wolf on her lap. “So, how do you want today to go?” she asked, wiping Wolf’s mouth with a tissue. Carmy huffed and pulled out a blue button-up shirt from the back of his closet. He was unsure if it would fit, but it was the ‘most court-appropriate,’ as Pete would say. 

“I dunno. Guess what were doin’ now?” he chuckled as he threw the shirt to the bottom of the closet still on the hanger. “Fuck it- I haven’t seen my wife in fuckin’ weeks. I’m fuckn’ tired of this shit. I want her to come home. I don’t wanna get divorced and fuckin’ share custody. I want her here, with Wolf, with me- as a fuckin’ family.” he scoffed as he moved to sit next to Natalie. “It took a year and a half to even get pregnant, and then I went and fucked everything up.” 

Natalie put her free hand on his shoulder and smiled sympathetically, “I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now, Carmen, but I think if you stand there and speak from the heart, everything will work out.” 

Carmy shrugged and took Wolf from her lap. She laughed at the feeling of Carmy’s hands wrapping around her waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound, “You’re gonna have so much fun with Auntie Sugar… be a good girl, okay?” 

Carmy’s question was met with happy gurgling and a gummy smile. He smiled and kissed her before handing her back to Natalie, “Well, which me luck.” Carmy grinned as he excused himself.

~

When you entered the courtroom, Carmy felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t realize how long it had been since he’d last seen you. You’d changed your hairstyle from what it had been to a shoulder-length bob; you also dyed it darker. Carmy swallowed when you took your jacket off. He hadn’t seen you in person for weeks, and as much as he tried, he could tear his eyes away from your chest. 

The judge called the hearing to start and began asking questions concerning the nature of the divorce. The words went through Carmy’s head, but he didn’t hear them. He was preoccupied with you. He noticed how you picked at your cuticles and kept crossing and uncrossing your legs and the glossy look in your eyes. You were on the verge of tears throughout the hearing, this was the last thing you’d wanted to do. Having your marriage dissolve. 

“Mrs. Berzatto, do you agree to the laid out terms?” you were brought back to reality when the judge had asked you the question. You looked at your lawyer who urged you to answer, you swallowed and finally looked at Carmy. When your eyes met his, everything flooded back. Meeting him at some bar all those years ago, your first date when he spilled both his and your wine glasses on you. His horribly awkward apologizes led him to info dump of how to get red wine stains out of cotton which led to the deeper conversation of how he’d been collecting denim with his brother since he was a teenager. Memories of laughing together, him attempting to help you with your homework, cooking dinner together at 3 in the morning, and just loving and being loved by him flood your mind. Being with Carmy was like being in a rom-com from the early 2000s.

“Y/N?” your lawyer asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to say something, but no words could come out. “I-uh.” You stammered, “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out before quickly walking out of the courtroom, ignoring your lawyer's call after you. 

Carmy watched you hurry out of the room and then turned his attention to the judge. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the door. “Be my guest, Mr. Berzatto.” The judge exasperated. Carmy nodded and quickly walked out of the courtroom to find you.

You were sitting on a bench just outside the courthouse with your face in your hands. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly walked to the bench. As he sat next to you, he heard you sigh. “Hi, Carm,” you said softly. 

“How’s you know it was me?” he asked playfully. He heard you scoff and watched you push your hands through your hair. 

“You always smell like smoke, spearmint, and old spice,” you answered, looking up at him. He chuckled, and you watched him adjust into a more comfortable position.

“You look good. How have you been?” Carmy asked as he turned to face you. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “Biting the inside of your cheek… am I making you nervous?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Really shitty… I’ve been absolutely dreading this day all week.” you laughed as you finally looked up at him. “Who schedules a divorce hearing on a Friday afternoon? Sorta a weekend killer, isn’t it?” 

Carmy laughed at the sentiment, “A bit. For what it counts… I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been thinking a lot and…” you took another breath as you pushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear. I don’t know what I want to do.” 

Carmy’s eyebrows knit together as he shot you a confused look, “Do for what?” 

“Obviously, I don’t know what I want for dinner.” You sarcastically joked, “I don’t know if I want to get divorced.”

“What brought that on?” Carmy asked shifting in his seat moving closer to you. You copied the movement and thought for a moment before explaining. 

“Wolf, in all honesty. I look at her and I see you.” you laughed, “I don’t know if you know but Natalie sends me at least three pictures of the two of you together everyday.” Carmy chuckled at that, he hadn’t asked Natalie to do that but he appreciated it in the moment. “I don’t want her to have divorced parents and I-” you paused for a second “I don’t want to get divorced.” 

“You don’t want to get divorced?” Carmy repeated, making sure he’d heard you correctly.

“I don’t want to get divorced.” You said again. The comment left Carmy dumbfounded, “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I guess I realized you are sorry for all the shit you did. I said some really mean shit to you, and while it was somewhat deserved, I’ve been reflecting a lot, and- I don’t wanna get divorced. Do you?”

Carmy laughed at the obscurity of the question: “You initiated this baby. When I asked you to marry me, I meant it till death.” You sniffled at Carmy’s words and reached out for him. Carmy grinned and moved to hug you. Having you in his arms felt foreign, not in a bad way, but in an unfamiliar way. 

It wasn’t an overnight ‘get back together’. It took work, and the two of you were ready to do it.

[cher-rei]

Can I request a Jamal fic where the reader is his girlfriend but she’s an interviewer and she’s tasked to interview him and he tries to distract her and make her laugh the whole time when she’s supposed to stay professional.

man of the match– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

I thought that I was dreaming, when you said you loved me [ivy— frank ocean]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: composure on camera?? what even it that?

genre(s): fluff

[w.c: 806] masterlist

notes: I wrote this in like 30 minutes help

the stadium's thunderous applause enveloped jamal as he accepted his man of the match trophy, his eyes shining with pride. you, with your mic in hand, stepped forward, professional smile faltering for a moment when your eyes met.

this wasn't the first time that you were tasked to interview your boyfriend, and it definitely won't be the last. but whenever you caught him on the pitch for a quick word for the camera, he couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his lips. it was just another reason to tease you, and he found it difficult to not lose himself in your eyes.

and today wasn't any different.

“jamal, congratulations on an incredible performance! would you care to take us through your thoughts on today's match?” you asked, your voice carrying over the din and for a moment he didn't answer.

he just stood there, trophy in hand with a smile that was all too contagious for your liking. it was as if he was mapping your features that he's more than familiar with, but he would never get sick of it. his dazed gaze travelled from your glistening eyes, to your flush cheeks under the stadium lights.

when you realized what was happening you cleared your throat and kicked his leg, thankful that it was out of frame. he jolted up, recollecting his thoughts with a bashful laugh.

“thank you! I think the team played amazingly. and I'm not just saying that because i got the award today,” he chuckled and you felt your smile deepening with a fond warmness.

as you continued with the questioning, jamal's mischief began to surface. he playfully examined the award, pretending to admire his reflection in the it's shiny surface.

“do you think I should get a haircut? this trophy makes my hair look weird,” he joked, running a hand through his locks.

you blinked up at him for a moment, a confused hum leaving your lips as you looked back to the camera but when you looked back at jamal, he was gesturing the award in your direction— your reflection clearly showing, which made him coo in awe.

your eyes sparkled, lips twitching but you had to remain composed. “j, focus please.”

the footballer feigned innocence, putting a hand on his chest in mock offense. “what? I'm just making sure that I look good for the cameras.”

the surrounding cameramen and interviewers couldn't help but laugh at his charming response, and your composure began to slip.

you sighed. “okay, let's try again. what was going through your mind during that stunning goal?”

jamal's expression turned thoughtful, but only for a moment, which gave you hope thay you'd get a proper answer this time around. “actually, I was thinking that you were going to kill me if I don't give you a good interview.”

your face flushed and your eyes darted around the stadium before returning to your boyfriend was visibly pleased with how riled up he was getting you. he wasn't going to hear the end of it on the ride home but he didn't care because what did you expect?

“you're impossible,” you muttered, causing the nearby operators and journalists to snicker, drawn in by the lighthearted banter.

you had to continue though, regardless of jamal's unseriousness. “and what about the team's strategy for the next match?”

jamal leaned in at the question,conspiratorial whisper escaping his lips. “I'll tell you a secret. we're going to…” he leaned in, pausing ever so subtly which had you leaning in out of genuine curiosity, his answer exciting you. “...play really well!”

this boy.

the crowd erupted into laughter, and you playfully rolled your eyes. “thanks jamal, that was really enlightening.”

as the interview concluded, you did get a few good answers and comments out of him and he handed you his award, his fingers brushing against yours. “hold this for me please, love. I need to get my phone out.”

your heart leapt at the term of endearment that he nonchalantly let slip, the flush on your cheeks earning a laugh from your boyfriend who was more than delighted you have you this shy in public.

still, jamal wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer for the picture. there was nothing to do but oblige, so you held the award close and smiled warmly. the camera flash from the photographers went off as well to illuminated your beaming smiles as you posted together.

your laughter lingered, along with his arm around your waist. the stadium was captivated with the chemistry between the two of you, a comfortable atmosphere settling around the two of you as you went though the pictures.

when everything was over you hopped onto your tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss onto your boyfriend's cheek. “well done, baby. you were amazing today.”

it was jamal's turn to be a blushing mess, his legs nearly giving in on him at the sudden affectionate gesture. you clapped your hands in triumph, turning quickly to look at the cameramen in front of you.

“yes! did you get that on camera?”

[the-way-astray]

What's your favorite cannon thing you truly like about Keefe Sencen

I DARE you 😈

i've been dared . . .

definitely my favorite thing is the fact that in flashback/legacy he was 100% not only supportive of sophie and fitz's relationship despite having a crush on sophie, but also actively tries to keep sophie from doing something that could even be interpreted as implicative. there was a poll a while ago about whether people thought sophie and keefe were (even unintentionally) emotionally cheating on fitz, and i answered a hard no. and the main reason for that was because of keefe. he does so much to try to keep sophitz together during that time, including telling sophie to confide in fitz, telling her to tell him about the matchmaking thing, shutting ro down (or at least doing his best to), and generally speaking, he did not have to do all that. like, yeah, any decent person would be supportive and not actively try to break their two friends in a relationship up, but keefe goes way beyond that and actively tells sophie exactly what to do in order to keep her relationship with fitz intact. every time fitz "catches" him with sophie it's lowkey painful to think about what keefe must be feeling because he spends so much time trying to prevent that exact thing from happening. there's even a line in legacy where sophie admits this herself. one of the only times he uses his empathy not dubiously is at the end of legacy, where sophie "tells" him (i use the term loosely) that she and fitz broke up. and he immediately says "i'm sorry", expressing out loud his sympathy for their relationship's end.

(one thing i've heard people misinterpret a lot in anti keefe things is the "blond hottie" line, which they say is an inappropriate thing to say about someone in a relationship. that was not said by keefe. that was said by ro. she says that when she's trying to convince sophie that bronte can't be her bio dad, to which keefe then says "unless she gets that from her mom". that's all he says. sophie then wonders whether that meant he agreed with the blond hottie assessment, but that doesn't come from anything he actually says.)

it surprises me that i haven't seen keefe lovers talk more about the fact that fitz literally commissioned him to draw him and sophie in a very romantic pose in a very romantic spot and keefe did it. so i'm going to talk about it. once again, this is not just baseline "my crush is in a relationship, oh well, guess i won't interfere" stuff. this is going above and beyond to keep sophie and fitz together. again, keefe has a crush on sophie. i'm not an artist, but obviously art doesn't just pop up out of thin air. he spent some time making that drawing. and all that time is yet another reminder that his crush is in a relationship. he could've told fitz no, made up some excuse as to why he couldn't do it, and that would've been well within his right. but he didn't. so that's a thing worth mentioning. (i'm going to just say i don't like the argument that fitz knew what he was doing when he asked keefe for the drawing, though. i think fitz just thought "sophie likes keefe's drawings! let me get her one of those" which is sweet in and of itself.)

in unlocked, keefe thinks something like "he definitely should not be happy that two people close to him were going through a rough patch. but, if he was being honest, he wasn't really sad" or something to that effect. and i like that. he has a crush on sophie, so of course part of him will be happy she's now single again. it's realistic. i've definitely talked about this before, but jealousy isn't a character flaw to me. it's only the actions that a character does because of their jealousy that defines whether or not it's a bad thing. but the thing with keefe is that he never allows the fact that he likes sophie to outwardly affect sophie and fitz's relationship in any negative way when they're tentatively dating. sophie and fitz fell apart for a lot of reasons, but the reasons were entirely on sophie and fitz, and had nothing to do with keefe himself. in fact, you could argue they only lasted as long as they did because of keefe.

i complained a lot about how much he doesn't shut up about his hair in my rant. but that was mostly at his humor style and the fact that he literally talks about it at the weirdest times (in his registry file . . . ) more so than the fact itself. and truthfully, he doesn't even talk about it that much. but i think it makes a lot of sense that he takes pride in it. it's the physical manifestation of rebellion against his parents who have controlled every other aspect of his life. he's also an artist, and i think it's a pretty neat thing that that extends to the way he styles his hair. also it looks good. i will die on this hill. just don't look at the laura art. jason chan is my king and keefe's hair is very cool and- *gunshot*

there's also a handful of moments where keefe uses his humor appropriately, to ease tension. best example i can think of is the one katie brought up in this post which is the moment in flashback right before the celestial festival (climax). magnate leto gives them all these sparkler things to light if they're in danger, and keefe sets off a couple prematurely "just to make sure they work" *wink wink nudge nudge* and sophie specifically says the "bit of levity" helped tame the "monster" she's been battling the whole book. when he's able to use his humor appropriately, and not at weird times about weird things, he can be a valuable source of comfort. these moments are unfortunately few and far between, but they do exist.

keefe is also good at calming sophie down when she's panicking, when he's not using his empathy to force her to tell him her feelings. i personally like it more when he's comforting her using his words than his emotional breezes, because that speaks more to his personality than it does to his ability to use his emotional breezes to calm her down. another example katie discusses in the post above is when he's talking to her about the bronte-is-her-bio-dad theory. sophie was panicking because she was thinking about the implications of it (prentice, him acting horrible to her, etc.) and keefe brings her back down to earth with his reassurances that this doesn't change anything about her. when she says bronte can't know she knows, he immediately gets her to reconsider in a gentle way, because like. that's the entire point of her search for her bio parents. he does all this using his words (actually i just checked and he does use his emotional breezes a couple of times but his words do have an impact on their own so we're disregarding that), which does prove that he's very good at knowing what to say to keep her calm.

(also the fact that he was even helping her search for her bio parents is another example of him going above and beyond to keep her relationship to fitz intact. he didn't have to do that at all.)

and lastly, i think i mentioned this in my rant and maybe a couple other places, but i think keefe's jealousy when it comes to family is written very realistically. in neverseen, he's jealous of fitz, biana, sophie, and dex when they hug their parents, and there's a line where he specifically says "i hate watching it. them and della" (them referring to fitz and biana). in unlocked, he's again jealous of dex's family and wishes he'd been born into a family like his. and i think that's written really well. it's pretty subtle and not really shoved in your face, too. i'm pretty sure there's a total of three times it gets brought up: the "them and della" line, one line at the end of neverseen where sophie and dex are hugging edaline and kesler, and then the line in unlocked. very blink and you miss it but i like that. it's one of the few things the narrative doesn't dump a truckload of pity on keefe for, and it makes the few times it is brought up even sadder.

oh, and also i think he's handsome. sue me.

[roosterforme]

I just saw the post about Darlin joking about him using a walker if they had a third baby.

I feel like Jake would have a real big doubt and guilt in himself one night about being too old for her. Maybe one day they're playing with their boys when the two are maybe like 6 and 3 and Darlin says she misses them being really small and now they kick and squeall when they get kisses because it's like icky.

That night maybe Jake is sitting on the side of the bed as Darlin gets in and she senses something is wrong and he asks her if she was with a younger guy would she have more kids as he feels he's holding her back. He definitely has a bit of self doubt as the daggers always tease him about being the old man of the house.

Btw love I adore your little blurbs for this fam. Today is probably the day I might catch up on a bunch but they are amazing 😍

Oh, ouch. Yes. It would hit him sometimes that maybe certain things would be easier or better for you if you had a partner closer to your own age. (angsty below)

Your husband was one week away from turning forty-seven, and he just absolutely rocked your world in bed. "I like it when you do that thing with your tongue," you whispered, staring up at the ceiling as he sat on the edge of the bed, naked.

His back was to you now, but you heard him chuckle. "And I like it when you do that thing with your tongue."

You rolled toward him and groaned. You were going to be sore tomorrow. "I'll go check on the boys before we go to sleep," you said, kissing him when you stood.

After your robe was securely tied, you walked quietly in to check on both Liam and Asher who were sound asleep. Then you went back to your bedroom where Jake had barely moved an inch.

"They looked extra cute when they're asleep and not fighting over Legos or eating all of the food in the kitchen," you mused, dropping your robe again. "I kind of miss when they were tiny and didn't know how to argue."

Jake cleared his throat. "Would you want to have another baby? If you could?"

You stared at him, unable to read the expression on his handsome face. It was closed off. And you were confused.

"I don't understand," you told him, placing your hands nervously on your hips, suddenly very aware of how naked you were.

"Just answer me. Would you have wanted more than two? Would you have wanted to try for a girl?"

You swallowed hard and shook your head slowly. "You got a vasectomy. I wouldn't even be able to get pregnant again."

Jake ducked his head and looked at the floor. "I wanted the vasectomy, because I'm already the oldest parent in Asher's school pick up line."

You took a step closer. "Who cares about that? You're also the hottest dad in Asher's school pick up line."

He looked up at you and whispered, "Will you just answer the question?"

"I already did!" you snapped. "We decided about the vasectomy together. Last year. You didn't make the decision alone, Jake." His eyes were fixed on your face as you said, "I have never once looked at you and thought you were too old to do anything. I didn't want more kids. Some days I can barely handle the two we have."

You burst into tears, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned to get your robe from the floor again. Jake's arms were around you, pulling you toward the bed, and you let him take you there. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Darlin'," he whispered. "I just hate the idea that I could be holding you back."

"You're not," you sobbed, face buried against his neck as he pulled the covers over both of you. "All you do is make everything better. The boys and I woudn't want it any other way."

Jake held you until you felt calmer, his fingers trailing up and down your arm. "I won't doubt my wife again," he whispered, turning off the lamp.

"Don't you dare."

You fell asleep to the sound of the ocean and the feel of Jake's big hand on your back.

[ihatealimore]

Rainy Day

(Word count: 1,633) (I wrote this a awhile ago on a rainy day and forgot about it lol)

Standing near the exit of the Hunter Association building, you glance up at the sky visible through the window. The rain is pouring down, drenching everything and everyone unlucky enough to be caught outside without an umbrella.

"Damn... I can't believe I forgot my umbrella," You complain, frustration evident on your face as you watch people scurry by in their attempts to stay dry, "At this rate, it doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon."

You let out a sigh as you lean against the glass, "Should I just... make a run for it?" You wonder to yourself. Your apartment is only a couple of blocks away, not too far from here.

You pull your jacket up over your head to cover yourself from the rain. Reaching out for the door handle, you're about to push it open when a familiar voice calls out from behind.

"(Y/N)!" His voice echoes through the near-empty hall of the building.

Your hand freezes on the handle, head turning at the sound of a familiar voice. Your eyes meet Kurapika's and you raise an eyebrow in surprise, "Kurapika?"

"(Y/N)," Kurapika starts, his brow furrowing, "Were you planning to just walk out into that downpour without an umbrella?" He questions incredulously, making no attempt to hide his exasperation.

Seeing you prepared to run out into the storm unshielded fills him with concern. He's always known you to be reckless, diving headfirst into dangerous situations without much thought for your own wellbeing.

"It's not just a drizzle outside," He reprimands sternly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

An irritated sigh escapes your lips, your grip tightening on the door handle, "Yes I was," You retort stubbornly, shooting him a defiant look, "It's not like I have much choice now, do I?"

Ever since your heated argument with him a few days ago, your interactions have become like this. A constant back and forth, an unending tug-of-war of words filled with tension and stubbornness. The disagreement was long forgotten but the hostility still lingers. Every conversation seems to turn into a battle of wills where neither of you want to give in or admit fault.

"There are always choices, (Y/N)," He counters as he steps closer, the distance between you and him now significantly reduced, "It wouldn't kill you to consider your own safety for once."

You bristle at his words, your eyes flashing with indignation, "I'm not some helpless kid, Kurapika."

"I never said you were," Kurapika shoots back, his tone stubbornly calm, "But acting recklessly won't get you anywhere either."

"This conversation is pointless," You snap at him as you turn to leave again, pushing against the door.

Before you can take another step, Kurapika reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip. The metal chains dangling from his hand clink softly with the sudden movement, echoing through the quiet hallway. His touch startles you and you freeze mid-step, looking back at him over your shoulder with an expression of surprise and mild annoyance.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, struggling to form a coherent thought. He wants to say something - anything that can wipe that annoyed expression off your face, but he's at loss for words; a rare occurrence for someone as articulate as him.

Finally, he clears his throat and speaks up, "I have an umbrella," He states matter-of-factly as if that should be obvious by now. A small beat of silence follows, though he presses on, "And I don't mind walking you home."

You stare at him for a moment, caught off guard by his response. The rain outside seems to fade away into background noise as you try to process what he just said.

"Are you serious?" You ask incredulously, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "You're willing to walk me home? In this weather?"

"Yes, I am," The blonde-haired man answers without hesitation. His grip on your wrist loosens, but he doesn't let go completely, "I said it before, didn't I? There are always choices. This is mine."

You blink at him, your irritation momentarily forgotten. His earnest declaration leaves you briefly speechless, "Fine," You finally grumble, averting your gaze from his, "If you insist..."

"Good," He states, releasing his grip on your wrist. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer, then he strides over to retrieve his umbrella from the stand near the door, "Shall we?" He prompts, offering you a small, rare smile. 

When you nod in response, you and him walk together toward the exit.

Once outside, he opens his umbrella with a swift movement and holds it high above both of you, protecting you from the steady downpour. The raindrops patter against the fabric, creating a soothing rhythm as you start your journey home through the rainy streets.

The silence between you two is thick and tangible, blanketing the air as you walk. Under normal circumstances, Kurapika doesn't mind quiet moments like these. In fact, he would usually welcome them. But with you...

He glances at you, taking in your side profile under the dim streetlights. The rain continues its steady rhythm on his umbrella, but it does little to ease the awkward tension.

As the silence drags on, his mind swirls with thoughts. Should he apologize again? He had already said sorry after the argument, but clearly, things still aren't right between the two of you.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurapika spots a car driving past. Without missing a beat, he subtly switches positions with you to stand on the side closer to the street. The action is instinctive and protective, saving you from a potential splash of water as the vehicle speeds by. It's a small gesture but one that speaks volumes about how much he cares for you.

"Thanks," You mutter quietly, your gaze remaining fixed on the sidewalk ahead.

"No need to thank me," Kurapika replies easily.

With another extended stretch of quiet, the tension becomes unbearable for Kurapika. He sighs heavily, releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"(Y/N)," His voice carries a tone of sincerity and regret that's hard to ignore, "I'm sorry... Again."

You remain silent for a beat before finally letting out a sigh of defeat, "I... I'm sorry too," You admit begrudgingly. 

Kurapika can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him, "I'm glad to hear that."

"Guess we're both too stubborn for our own good," You quip with a faint smirk.

A small, wry smile tugs at the corners of Kurapika's lips, "I suppose we are."

For a moment, both of you simply stand there under the umbrella, caught in your shared understanding.

As you and Kurapika continue your journey, the atmosphere lightens considerably. The rain lessens to a soft drizzle, and the gentle sound of it hitting the umbrella is calming, almost soothing.

Your conversation flows easily now, filled with casual banter and shared laughter. By the time you approach your apartment building, you and him are smiling despite the dreary weather.

As you reach the entrance, Kurapika lifts the umbrella away from him, shaking off the residual raindrops and closing it with hastily. Tucking the now-closed umbrella under his arm, you both enter through the revolving doors into the lobby, effectively saving yourselves from the bad weather outside.

"Thanks for walking me home," You say sincerely, "I appreciate it."

A light blush creeps up his cheeks, but Kurapika manages to maintain his composed demeanor, "It was the least I could do."

Just as you're about to bid him goodnight and head upstairs, you notice something. His whole shoulder on the side facing the rain is drenched. It takes you a moment to realize that he must've held the umbrella more over you, not caring if he himself got wet.

The realization stops you in your tracks and you're at a loss for words.

"You..." You start, shaking your head slightly, "You're such a hypocrite," You complain but there's no heat to your words. If anything, they're filled with fondness.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "Perhaps," He admits with a slight shrug, "But it was worth keeping you dry."

You roll your eyes, a small smile dancing on your lips, "You're hopeless," You reply, shaking your head in amusement. But then you hesitate, finally sighing and gesturing to the elevators, " Come on. You can dry off upstairs."

A look of surprise crosses Kurapika's face at your invitation, however it quickly shifts into a grateful smile, "Thank you," He says genuinely as he follows your lead.

You and him make your way upstairs in comfortable silence. Upon entering your apartment, you quickly disappear into the bathroom and return with a towel. Before Kurapika has a chance to react or protest, you're already patting down his soaked shoulder. Your actions are firm yet tender, an unspoken gesture of care that leaves him momentarily speechless.

He watches you in a stunned silence, his heart beating slightly faster at the unexpected contact. Kurapika swallows hard, feeling warmth spread through him at your actions.

"Thanks," He repeats once again, this time more softly.

"Just take care of yourself, okay?" You respond, shooting him a stern look. Withdrawing the towel, you fold it neatly and place it on the back of the couch. As you move past him toward the kitchen, you wonder, "Do you want something warm to drink?"

"Some tea would be nice."

The evening winds down with the both of you settled comfortably on your couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You're seated close enough for your shoulders to brush occasionally, an intimacy neither of you seem to mind. 

As the movie plays on, you gradually lean closer him until your head rests comfortably on his shoulder. Kurapika sips his tea quietly as he watches the screen, all while being acutely aware of you nestled against him. It's not how he expected tonight to end in the slightest. Not that he has any reason to complain.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Freebie!!! With good vibes and cookies 🍪🌟

You ordered a spicy chicken wrap and some ice water with lemon, but he wasn't satisfied until you were actually eating. Once he was mollified, he let himself pay attention to his own meal. He had a million questions.

But- he had to tread carefully. It made him feel like he was trying to coax a feral cat. Or disarm a bomb. Two things he'd never been good at. Still, he knew two things now he didn't know before. The kid was healthy and the date of your next appointment.

And you hadn't sent him away. He'd also never seen you eat anything spicy before. Maybe the kid liked spicy food. Or maybe he just never paid attention. "What else are you doing today?" he asked.

"Thought I'd try and get some cleaning done. Try and get some writing done. Take Trigger to the dog park," you answer, pushing a stack of napkins at him when his burger starts to fall apart.

"Thanks- Figured you'd want to go shopping. Get some baby things," he ventured.

You shake your head, "I don't- next week," you tell him. "Had to pay mom's allowance early to keep her over there."

Logan felt himself frown reflexively, "Wade throw in his share?"

You shrug, "You know how it goes. It's not like being Marvel Jesus comes with steady pay. But I have some freelance money coming and- well. It doesn't really matter. It's not-" You break off and shake your head, "I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Y/N," he said, cringing when the growl in his voice made you pull back. "It's not just you that did-"

"You made it pretty clear you didn't want this, Logan," you murmur, looking out the window. "Before I even knew what was happening."

"And if I could, I'd-"

"But you can't," you tell him. "And how am I supposed to know you won't just-" You shake your head and slide out of the booth, leaving your half-finished plate on the table. Stalking back to the ladies room. Hoping he won't follow. Not right now.

Fuck. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gulped down his drink, signaling for another to show he wasn't leaving and followed you. If diplomacy wasn't doing it- if words were going to keep getting him in trouble- it was time to try something else. He was just glad the bar was dead.

_______________

He opened the door carefully and found you leaning on the sink. Griping the counter so hard your knuckles were white. And he spun you around, hefting you up as he reached behind him and locked the door.

"I'm a fucking idiot," he growled, claiming your mouth in a kiss that burned his lips as he pushed your knees apart to stand between your legs. "I panicked like a stupid kid," he said, pulling back and resting his forehead on yours, giving you space to tell him 'no'. "I thought it would be better for you if I walked away from you. And now every time I look at you I can't fuckin' breathe."

He can hear your heart. He can smell tears welling up. But your hands are fisted in his shirt. And he rests his forehead on yours. "Listenin' to you tell people this ain't my kid- that you don't know who their daddy is," he huffed a laugh. "Fuck. I know it doesn't hurt as bad as what I did but- it's a gut punch, Princess."

"I'm so fucking mad at you," you tell him, voice breaking. "And I'm so fucking scared."

"Hey," he breathed, cradling your face in his hands and wiping tears away with his thumbs, "shhh." He kissed you again, more gently this time, "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Okay? I'm gonna show you that. I just need you to give me one more chance."

[forwoonnagi]

Heartbreak girl

Trope: friends to lovers

Pairing: Taesan x reader

Synopsis: Taesan’s tired of seeing y/n crying due to her stupid boyfriend. He's also tired of being just y/n’s “best friend”, he wanted to be more.

Author's note: inspired by the song “Heartbreak girl - 5 seconds of summer".Haven't written in so long so bare with me yall HAHAH <33

warnings: bad grammar </3 

 “You call me up

   It's like a broken record

   Saying that your heart hurts

   That you'll never get over him getting over you “

It was 10:54 pm and Taesan was just in his room listening to “I don't love you” by MCR. It was quiet in Taesans room. It wasn't unusual but it was too quiet..He missed the sound of her laugh..her voice..her in general. That girl was his best friend, Y/n L/n. His friends would tell him to make a move but he couldn't. Especially since she had a boyfriend. He let his mind wander randomly till it was interrupted by a vibrating sound that stopped his music.

“Y/nie calling..”   

Taesan would usually ignore calls and messages but Y/n was an exception. He sat properly and cleared his throat before answering. He felt nervous..was it because he was just thinking about her few minutes ago?

“y/n?”

“Taesan..we fought again.”

Taesan never liked Y/n's boyfriend. Not because he was taking Y/n from him but because he was a jerk. He would break up with Y/n then get into a new relationship then after a month or so he would go back crawling to Y/n. The problem was, Y/n always goes back to him..

“What happened..are you okay?”

“He said I was being obsessive because I wanted to be with him..He said he was hanging out with Maya later..”

“Then I found out they were going out on a date..again.”

“Y/n..I told you to stop going back to him..You guys always fight then break up then get back together..aren't you sick of him?”

Taesan’s heart clenched as he can hear Y/n crying through the phone.

“And you end up crying

And I end up lying

'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do”

“Try not going back to him Y/nie..Just this time please..”

It was quiet for a while. Which felt like an hour to Taesan.

“Uhm..When's your band performing again?”

Right..Taesan had a performance this friday.. Taesan loves music. He played,listened,made,danced to music. It's like Taesan can't function without it.

“Uh, this Friday, Why?”

“Can I be your date for it?..Justin was supposed to be my date but he canceled at the last minute and is taking Maya instead..”

Every year we have festival day. Where all students go to school on a Saturday and go to the festival where clubs have small booths where you can sign up or try. Then every night there would be performances like dance shows, theater, musicals and bands. This year Taesans band was lucky enough to be one of the students performing. The seniors had to bring a date to the night show. Where there would be   photobooths, stargazing, confession walls and kissing booths. 

“Hello? Taesan, are you there?”

Taesan was zoned out. He was shocked that Y/n..His Y/n.. was asking him to be her date to the night show. That was his chance to win her. To show her that he's better.

“Uh yeah sure. I'll pick you up at 4:40pm?”

“Okay! Can I watch you practice tomorrow? Or is it a secret~”

“Sure you can watch. We're gonna practice after classes till like 6. Is that okay?”

“Yup! Good night, Taesanie! See you” 

Omg.. Taesans' world was suddenly coming together..

Authors note: SO THIS IS VERY SHORT BUT ILL MAKE PT2 HOPEFULLY THIS WEEK <33

[gracies-baby]

this account is the reason i am on tumblr fr. could you do one where audrey and abby are plotting to get gracie and y/n together but theyre already together and audrey and abby either see them kissing or bump into them on a date or something

Monopoly

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

I’m so sorry this took so long 😭

——————————————————————————

"What're you smiling at?" Audrey teases her friend when she sees her smiling at her phone.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter" Gracie replies as she puts her phone down to face her best friend.

"Nothing wouldn't happen to be coming over today, would she? Me and Abby decided we should talk to her. We know you're never gonna make the first move so we're just gonna have to convince Y/n to like jump on you or something" Audrey smirks as she watches her roommates face turn red.

"Ew Audrey! What the fuck?!" The brunette groans as she walks to the kitchen.

"Don't act like you wouldn't love that!" Audrey teases before walking back to her room.

--

"Hey!" Gracie exclaims as she answers the door to see Abby and Y/n on the other side. She steps aside to let the other two girls in. Abby greets her cousin before walking to the kitchen to find something to eat, leaving the other two girls alone.

"Hi, I missed you" Y/n smiles as she quickly leans up to press a quick peck against the brunette's lips.

"I definitely missed you more. Audrey thinks I've got a crush on you by the way. She won't stop bugging me about it" Gracie replies as she looks around to make sure neither of the other two could hear them.

"Well, is she wrong? Abby thinks I've got a crush on you too. She keeps telling me stories about you as a kid by the way. Did you really rip the heads off all her dolls?" Y/n asks as she walks further into the apartment to sit on the couch.

"She was being a bitch. I wouldn't have done it if she didn't deserve it" Gracie replies, wrapping her arm around her girlfriend's shoulders, allowing Y/n to rest her head on her shoulder.

"You seem like you were a mean kid. I don't think we would've gotten along" Y/n jokes as Gracie scoffs jokingly.

"I wasn't mean! Abby was just annoying. She would always cheat at games. One time, we got into a big fight over monopoly and my mom said we weren't allowed to play anymore. We haven't played it since then"

"She still cheats at games. We should play monopoly tonight. I wanna see you being competitive" Y/n replies as she moves away from the brunette, seeing Audrey walk in.

"Gracie's always competitive. The other day, she threw my phone across the room because I beat her at Scrabble" Audrey tells her as she sits on the chair next to the couch.

"You definitely cheated. I would've won if you hadn't cheated" Gracie grumbles as she turns her eyes to the TV.

"Gracie, not everyone cheats at games. Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are" Y/n replies causing the brunette to jokingly glare at her before Abby walks in.

"Yeah, she kinda sucks at games honestly. She only thinks she's good because she always beat Henry and August but that's only because they suck even more" Abby teases as she takes a seat next to Y/n on the couch.

"Fine, lets play monopoly then. I'm gonna kick all your asses" Gracie grumbles as they all go to sit at the table.

--

"You need to pay!" Gracie yells at her cousin when she lands on her property.

"No I don't! You didn't even pay for the property! You just took the card" Abby yells back as she covers her money, making sure the brunette can't steal it.

"Y/n, tell her I paid for it!" The brunette asks the banker only to be interrupted by her cousin.

"Of course she's gonna side with you! You're her favorite!"

"Guys maybe we should stop playing-" Y/n tries to say only to be interrupted.

"I am not her favorite! You're her best friend and roommate! She would only side with me because I'm right" Gracie yells at her cousin before storming off to her room.

"That was.. intense" Y/n says as she begins packing up the game.

"Well, Gracie did tell you we weren't allowed to play. Now you know why" Abby replies before getting an idea.

"You should go follow her. Me and Audrey can finish packing up"

"Are you sure? It's just a game. I think she'll be okay"

"Just go. You would definitely cheer her up" Y/n agrees before walking to her girlfriend's room and closing the door behind her.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, we shouldn't have played" Y/n tells her girlfriend as she takes a seat next to her on her bed before leaning her head on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault. Now you know why I broke her dolls" Gracie replies as she lays down on the bed, bringing Y/n with her and allowing her to rest her head on her chest.

"By the way, you're definitely my favorite. I love Abby but she's got nothing on you" Gracie smiles before leaning down to connect their lips. Y/n sighs into the kiss before Gracie moves to lay on top of her girlfriend so she can deepen the kiss. Just when she's about to take the other girls shirt off, the door opens causing them to jump away.

"Don't you two know how to knock?!" Gracie exclaims while Y/n lays on the bed in shock.

"How were we supposed to know you two were sucking face in here?! When did this start?!" Audrey replies with a big smile on her face.

"Around 3 months" Gracie tells them while Abby and Audrey begin to glare at the other two girls.

"So this whole time we've been trying to get you two together, you already were? Why didn't you tell us!" Abby asks.

"It's just been kinda fun sneaking around. Besides, you two would always leave us alone for hours trying to get us to confess and the alone time was kinda nice" Y/n speaks up for the first time since the other two girls walked in.

"Do you know how much I was panicking when you came home the other night with a hickey? I thought you were with some random girl! It would've completely ruined my plans" Abby tells her roommate while Y/n grins at her sheepishly.

"I'm so happy you two are together but if you ever have sex anywhere other than one of your beds, you're both getting kicked out 'cause we don't wanna deal with that" Audrey tells the both while Gracie and Y/n both look away with guilty looks on their faces.

"What the fucks wrong with you guys?!"

[zeeohoh]

OBX RAFE SMUT | MINORS DNI !

Tags : arguing, toxic!rafe, reader has female anatomy, oral, oral smut, slight fluff at the end(?).

A/N : NOT PROOF READ.

//

Rafe had been avoiding you for weeks now, his work, his dad, his friends, he has a million excuses to not see you, and you've finally had enough.

You were sat on your bed, watching Notting Hill, you had seen this movie a million times but hey, it's your favourite, you can never have enough.

It's a 21:00 on a Saturday, you were *supposed* to see Rafe, or at least, you had hoped you would, he's been blowing you off for weeks now, you guys had been going out for a few weeks but not everyone knew, and it would've been hard for anyone to believe it either because of how he treated you when you were around people you knew, it was like the better and comfortable you felt with him, the terrible he made you feel in public, in simple terms, he treated you like shit, Absolute. Pure. Shit. As if you're some fuck toy or something to help distract him and you only meant something to him when his body was on yours. You didn't entirely feel this way, he seemed to genuinely have feelings for you but his actions said otherwise, so you stopped, or you would've just been delusional. Tired of wanting him to treat you like an actual human being and tired of wrecking your brain over being torn because you felt he had feelings for you but he acted like you mean nothing, and treating you like a nobody, you grab your phone and block him, his number, his instagram, anywhere you have him on your phone, you block him, throw your phone on your pillow and continue playing the movie.

02:19 *ring* *ring*

Your eyes flutter open as you realize you fell asleep watching the movie, you're broken out of yours thoughts as you realize what woke you up in the first place, your front door bell ringing.

Who the fuck is at my door at 2 in the damn morning?

You get off your bed, quickly grab your robe and a baseball bat you kept by the shoe rack and peek through the keyhole, it was hard to make out who it was because of the rain, but you recognised the familiar silhouette of a certain Cameron. You sigh and open the door.

"What the fuck Rafe? Look at the time"

"I couldn't reach you anywhere, you wouldn't answer my calls, my texts wouldn't send, what else was I supposed to fucking do? You cut me off everywhere Y/N"

"Just..get inside, you're gonna catch a cold"

"I don't care Y/N"

You take a step aside to let him in , you barely turn around before he grabs your wrists in his hands and pins you to the wall,

"RAFE"

He's so close that you can feel him breathing on you

"Why'd you do it Y/N? Do you really want me out of your life? Is that what you want?"

"It's not like I mean shit to you anyways, Rafe"

"That's not true"

"Like fuck it is, you treat me like absolute shit, you purposely go out of your way to make me feel terrible, you want my attention but you'd rather ask for it by belittling me infront of everyone, by talking down to me or treating me like I'm just someone you use to distract yourself from whatever the fuck you need to be distracted from, sometimes the shit you say isn't even funny, it's straight up childish and immature and rude, I shouldn't even have let you in after the shit you've said and the shit you've done, I deserve better than how you treat me. "

You could barely finish your sentences without feeling the need to choke up.

"Y/N I-"

"You used to make me feel so good, so safe but now I'm scared to even talk to you because I know nothing nice is gonna come up and I'm gonna get hurt again, I know we're supposed to be just casual but I just didn't think you'll treat me like I'm a nobody to you"

Rafe's gaze softened, and his hands went from your wrists to your shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness because of the things I've said and how I've treated you, but I can't lose you, I don't want to do this without you Y/N, I can't justify why I've said what I've said, what can I do to make it up to you? I'll do anything, I never realized how much it could've affected you, I was being a dick, I'm so, so sorry"

"I know I shouldn't even be talking to you rn, John B would kill me"

Rafe took your hands in his and placed a kiss on the back of both hands. He peppered kisses all over your hands, working his way up to your wrists, your arms, your shoulders, and eventually, your neck, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and nibbled on the sensitive skin right next to your jaw, which he knew makes you go crazy.

You shuddered under his touch and, out of habit, leaned into him, your head resting on his chest, kissing it, you turned up to look at him, your faces barely inches apart, and close the distance. You plant a kiss on his lips, it was soft, gentle, loving. His hands wander from your neck to your back, you guide his hands to your waist, he gives you a gentle nudge and following his cue, you lift yourself and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him, his focus goes to your neck and you shudder, he takes that opportunity and slips his tongue in, his movements grow more eager as he softly grinds himself against you, grabbing everywhere you'd let him, at this point, you're both breathing each other, he's kissing you like he's gonna lose you tomorrow, like it's the last time he'll ever have you, your tongues move in a rhythm and your bodies are connected.

"Let's go inside" you say and he takes you to your room, he gently lays you down on your bed, not breaking the kiss once, not letting go of you even. once.

"May I?" He asks you as he nudges your top

You get up and help him remove the tshirt you slept in, he immediately went back to kissing your neck, your collarbone, and slowly made his way down to your chest. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, gently sucking on it, you let out a soft sigh as he bit it gently while his other hand gave attention to your other one, toying with it, kneading it then he switched to the other one, doing the same as he did for the previous one.

"Let me make you feel good ma"

He made his way further down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"Tell me if you want me to stop ,okay?"

You just hummed in agreement

"No, I want to hear you say it, tell me if I'm going too far, and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop"

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, and you lifted yourself up, helping him take them off.

"Turn the lights off,Rafe, I don't want you to look at it"

"You're beautiful, every part of you Y/N" he says as he gets up and turns the lights off, finding his way back to you, he plants gentle kisses on your inner thighs, softly massaging them. He slowly made his way to your core, planting a gentle kiss over your clothed core.

You squirmed in the bed, edging your body closer to his mouth, growing more impatient by the second.

"Easy now, I'm getting there" he said as he took your underwear off, folding it up and keeping it next to your bed, he licked a long stripe eliciting a soft moan from you, he latched himself onto your clit, lightly sucking on it, focusing on how you react to it, once he's satisfied, he pushes his tongue inside you, he speeds up exponentially, he's going down on you like a man starved, like you're the last meal he'll ever have, he doesn't slow down, he doesn't stop, he barely comes up for air, he only has one thing on his mind, making you come. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing them and tugging at them.He violently thrusts his tongue in and out of you, practically abusing your clit while you're a moaning mess, he hooks your legs over his arms to grip you and hold you down as you squirm and push yourself onto his face, his nose is lightly bumping against your clit, your moans turn him on and he started grinding against the bed, he suddenly inserts a finger in you which make you arch your back, pumping in and out of you, hitting your g spot as his thumb makes it way to your clit and rubs circles on it, while his other hand grabs your breast and plays with it, the sudden increase in stimulation drive you closer to your edge, your eyes are shut, you can't say anything, you can't think of anything other than how good his mouth feels, how good he's making you feel, you feel the burning sensation, signalling you're not that far

"Rafe I'm gonna-"

He doesn't even let you finish that sentence before he speeds up, you didn't think it was possible for him to go faster, but he was, the room is silent except for the moaning mess he's made of you and the unholy sounds he's making as he eats you out, he can feel how close you are, he hums in satisfaction.

"It's okay, come for me" You can feel the smirk he has on his face as he says it

Right as he finishes his sentence, you came. hard, harder than you've probably ever come. You're a panting mess, he slows down his movements but he doesn't stop, helping you ride out your high, once he's sure, he gets up and grabs a towel, cleaning you up, he kisses your thighs and helps you up on the bed, and lays down next to you. He holds you close and whispers in your ear

"I'm so sorry for ever making you feel like you mean less than to me than you actually do, I won't do it again"

"It's easier said than done, Cameron, don't make me regret giving you another chance"

you turn to face him and bury your face in his chest, slowly drifting away into a peaceful sleep as he plants a kiss on your forehead and holds you close. He'll spend as long as it is needed to make up for how he treated you, taking care of you and cherishing you for as long as you'd have him.

[nocturnalrorobin]

STOLEN

(Mihawk x reader x Shanks)

cw: loss of virginity, p in v, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, blood

let me know if I forgot something

Tags: @animefreak818 Minors DNI

Chapter 2: Undisclosed Desires

< prev chap

Mihawk licked the seam of Lilly's lips; as she opened her mouth for him, his tongue entered without hesitation. He smiled into the kiss when her tongue carefully and curiously prodded against his tongue. He could tell she was inexperienced, so he dominated the kiss and she mirrored what he did. She moaned into the kiss, instinctively spreading her legs for him as she felt something hard poking at her thigh. He rolled his hips against her clothed cunt. Mihawk traced kisses over her jaw down to her neck while his hands slipped inside her shirt, massaging her perky tits. He sucked hungrily at Lilly’s neck, one of his fangs slightly pricking the skin so he could lick the blood that was dripping. As he wanted to give in to his desires and devour her, she let out a soft whine. Just then, he noticed the quickened pacing of her heart, and it hit him that she might be very inexperienced. “Darling” he paused to find the right words. “If you don't want this yet and want me to stop, please tell me. I want you to feel just as good as I do when we have sex.” He said earnestly and kissed her temple. 

Lilly felt heat rushing to her face. She pushed herself upward on her elbows and looked him deep in the eyes. “I-I do want this. I’ve never done this before and am a bit nervous.” He couldn’t help but smile at those big, innocent-looking eyes. He reached out to caress her cheek and pulled her close. 

“I will take it slow and if at any given time you want to stop, you let me know. Understood?” Lilly wanted to look away, but the hand that was caressing her cheek before held her chin in place now, and so she nodded. “Words darling. I need to know if you are sure about this.” He said in a stern voice. 

“I-Im sure. I’ve been waiting for this, ever since I first laid eyes on you.” She admitted bashfully. 

“You have no idea about all the things I wanted to do to you ever since I laid eyes on you darling.” His voice sounded husky and full of need and hunger. His hands lifted the loose shirt over her head and took his shirt off as well so she wouldn’t feel exposed by herself. His lips quickly found hers again and their tongues danced while his hands slowly wandered over her upper body until finally reaching her breasts. As his thumbs and index fingers gently rolled her buds, she moaned into the kiss, and one of her hands clawed at the back of his head. Mihawk left a trail of tender kisses over her jaw and neck down to her breasts. As he took one of her breasts into his mouth she let out a moan and arched her back. Throwing her arm over her face, embarrassed by that, he quickly stopped and removed her arm. “Don’t hide yourself, darling. Don't ever take your eyes off of me.” He said in a commanding, yet loving tone. His eyes never left hers as he started to suck on her nipple; his left hand twirled, pinched, and gently caressed her left bud while his mouth switched between sucking and flicking his tongue around her right bud. As Mihawk gently bit down on her nipple she deeply arched her back and bit down on her finger to stifle her moan. She could see his golden orbs sharpen as she bit down on her finger. “Don’t deny me your beautiful voice, darling. If you do it again, I will tie up these lovely hands of yours. Understood?” He pinched her thigh as she hesitated to answer. 

“Y-Yes. I’m sorry Sir.” As she said that, Mihawk’s eyes grew predatory, and he bit and sucked the skin on her breast, making her hiss in air. 

“Good girl.” He praised, though it was borderline growling. He traced kisses over her belly until he reached the seam of her pants and hooked a finger in. “May I?” He wanted to make sure one last time. 

She smiled appreciating the need for consent. “Absolutely.” The fact that he kept asking, made her feel loved, cherished, and valued, it raised her confidence. 

He took off her pants and his as well and then took in her naked form. “You are positively beautiful darling.” She felt heat rush to her face as his golden orbs scanned every inch of her body. He lifted her leg and started placing kisses down to the plush of her thigh. It felt like he was worshipping her body and it gave her butterflies. He left love bites on both of her thighs, always licking over the freshly marked skin; as he got closer and closer to where she needed him most, she grew more restless, and it didn't go unnoticed. Mihawk could not wait for Lilly to come undone under him.

“S-Sir, please. I want to feel you.” One of her hands ran through her wet folds as she begged him, he caught the hand licking each finger clean, enjoying her divine taste. His golden hues were still glued to hers, making sure to take in her reaction having someone eating her out for the first time. Lilly’s eyes widened as his tongue bullied its way between her wet folds and slowly licked upwards to her clit. His lips surrounded the little bud sucking it and flicking his tongue against it. As his tongue and lips encircled her hardened bud, one of his fingers carefully penetrated her pussy. She threw her head back and winced at the stretch, but as Mihawk paused for a second for her to adjust she immediately rolled her hips, grabbing his head and pushing him closer to her clit. “Please don't stop sir. It feels so good. Hnnng.”  She begged. He licked her again, and his finger slowly continued pushing in and out; he soon added a second finger, curling both of them upward to hit her sensitive, spongy spot inside. He scissored his fingers as he did so and all of these ministrations turned her into a moaning mess. It did sting, but it also felt so good. “I think I- I ah.” Waves of pleasure shook her body as she rolled her hips into him and he worked her through the orgasm. She squeaked in surprise as he moved his tongue slowly downward her cunt collecting all of her honey and slowly circling her entrance. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him push his tongue inside of her, pushing it as deep as he could and collecting every bit of nectar he could. He moved his tongue in and out for a while and pressed his thumb on your clit. “Sir please I want you.” Lilly’s hands held tight on the sheet as she urged him on.   

“Sorry darling, you just tasted so divine, and your reactions were adorable.”  He smirked down at her as he came up and gently pushed her down onto the mattress. He lined himself up with her and could see the nervousness on her face. “Shhhh darling. We can stop whenever you want, I won’t be upset.” He reassured her one more time in a soft-spoken voice and kissed the knuckles of her fingers. Instead of answering she pulled him close for a kiss and spread her legs some more to invite him in. He slowly pushed in; it was incredibly tight; as the tip was completely inside, Lilly felt a sting and clawed onto Mihawk's back, and he paused, giving her time to adjust. “Are you ok darling?” He lovingly kissed her eyebrow. 

“I-I'm fine, but sir please move,”  Lilly whined. The ends of his lips curled upwards into a smirk. He leaned back in to kiss her as his fingers intertwined with hers. He slowly moved his hips to push deeper inside her, his other playing with her nipple. She moaned into the kiss, clawing at his back, and started breathing more erratically. He couldn't wait anymore, his breathing became just as erratic as hers. He pressed his thumb on her clit as he noticed both of them were quickly reaching their climax. Their wet muscles danced passionately as their bodies rocked in overwhelming pleasure. Their sweat-glazed bodies collapsed onto each other,  completely out of breath.  

“Are you ok darling? You did good! Taking me so well on your first time! That's my baby girl!” He praised her and kissed her down her neck. 

Heat rushed to her face, up to her ears, and down to her neck from all the praise. She hid herself more in the crook of his neck. “Hmmm, I'm fine, a bit sore though. I just wanna be close to you.” She was about to close her eyes because she felt drowsy, but Mihawk got up and swooped her up in bridal style. As he opened the door to the toilet she looked at him questioningly. 

“I don't want you to get a UTI so please use the toilet even if you don't necessarily want to. I will run a bath for both of us in the meantime.” He kissed the center of her head and left the toilet.  He poured some relaxing salts into the water and added some rose petals. Before he went to get her he dimmed the lights to a more romantic setting. As he left the room he saw Lilly struggling to walk holding on to the door and frame looking pleasingly at him. “Need a little help darling?” He looked pleased with himself. 

“Yes please.” She lowered her head feeling embarrassed. He picked her back up and then walked into the bathroom. Her eyes widened as she saw the rose petals in the water. “You didn't have to do this. I-” Mihawk shushed her, he wouldn't hear any of it. 

The bathtub was made of crystal and roundly shaped with enough space to fit more than two people. He lowered her into the water and followed suit, as he let himself relax in the hot bath he pulled Lilly close so she sat sideways on his lap leaning close to his chest and listening to his heartbeat. His heartbeat? Why was it so low? Was it even there? “Is something the matter, love?” He rubbed soothing circles on her back as he saw blood dripping from her lower lip which she unconsciously worried. He leaned in and licked up the blood, making her squeak in surprise.  

“I was wondering why I can't hear your heartbeat, but I can put two and two together. What I don't understand is why you haven't bitten me!?” She almost looked offended with her pouty face and the accusatory tone did not help the matter. Mihawk burst into loud laughter and put his head on hers. 

“You are adorable. You know that? I haven’t bitten you, because I don't bite without consent. The bite isn't just about feeding me, it also leaves a mark on the one I chose as a mate and the act during sex can be extremely pleasurable and erotic, but I digress.” His index finger gently caressed along her neck as he spoke, it gave her goosebumps in the best ways. He gingerly lifted her arm and rubbed circles over where her pulse was with his thumb. “Are you sure about this darling? You don’t have to feed me.” His soul-piercing eyes watched carefully for any hint of doubt and hesitation on Lilly’s face, but there was none, there was only love and warmth. 

“Absolutely. I trust you.” She leaned in closer and pecked his cheek. He sucked her blood and drank it like delicious wine as his fangs tore into her arm. She never took her eyes off of him, her breathing and heartbeat quickened, realizing this he stopped immediately licking over the wound until all the blood was gone. 

“Did I frighten you, darling?” His index finger and thumb cupped her cheek to lift her head upwards, he then moved on to caress her cheek. 

She shook her head with a chuckle. “No love you didn’t. It was just thrilling and kind of lewd?” She rubbed the back of her neck bashfully, she wasn't used to speaking so openly. He hummed in approval, enjoying that she was speaking her mind. 

“We probably should get washed up and get out, the water is getting cold.” his index finger gently poking her nose with affection. He washed her and then he washed himself, but Lilly washed his back. Mihawk got out first then lifted her out and wrapped her into a big black fluffy towel that he got from a shelf right next to the tub. The entire bathroom was black except for the tub and sink which were both crystal. “Listen. I wanna talk to you about something important. When You were brought here yesterday Shanks mentioned that you may have feelings for him as well. Is that true?” Mihawk’s golden orbs were once again focused on Lilly. 

She wasn’t sure if vampires could hear internal screaming, but inside she wanted to just vanish. She hoped she dreamt that she confessed to him. Mihawk watched this entire scene unfold with amusement, she might try to hide her emotions and feelings, but she was very much an open book. He took her towel dried her hair and brushed for her, once done her picked her up wanting to cuddle in bed to continue this conversation when he saw the bloody messy sheet.

 He groaned in annoyance. “You can get some pajamas from my cupboard while I quickly switch the sheet love.” She nodded and he got to work, just putting it into the humper. Once done he crawled onto the bed leaning against the headboard and pointed towards the space between his legs. Lilly sighed because she knew there was no way he would let this go. 

“I do. I can’t explain why.” She finally revealed, heart pounding in her chest, as far as she was concerned she was still in a fever dream considering the day she had. 

“I’m not gonna keep you from him.” He paused and sighed. “If I have to share you with mutt I will.” The frown on his face widened as he could already picture Shanks snaking his way back into his bedroom like so many times before. 

Lilly looked at him confused. “What? Seriously?” She did not expect that.

“Shanks and I shared before love. It’s fine. A word of warning though, do not enter his bedroom for the next couple of days. Promise me!” Mihawk suddenly got serious. 

“Ok, but why? Is he sick?” 

“His rut is about to start, and you, my dear are his obsession. If you enter that room rest assured he will mate and breed you. He would regret it, but he would do it.” He explained as much as he was comfortable, chances are though that Lilly didn’t hear everything as he looked down she was fast asleep.