#gripping you by the shoulders do you get it. do you understand. do you

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

Part 2

MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, msub, slight bondage, choking, impreg mention

this is my first continuation to an already existing fic! hopefully you guys like it! okay it’s like 2:30am i’m gonna post this and pass tf out and hopefully have ford dreams okay byeeeeeeee

You laid naked on the cold lab tile, Ford’s trench coat draped over you.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t know Bill would follow through on his threats.”

You looked up at him. “What threats?”

Ford swallowed. “Bill said- he said if I wasn’t going to be a man and tell you how I felt that he would do it himself. I’m so sorry, if I had just been honest none of this would’ve happened. I-“

You sat up, grabbing his tie, pulling him to you and pressing your lips to his.

He looked at you, struggling to find the words.

“I don’t understand, after what Bill- what I did I didn’t think you’d ever…” He trailed off.

“Ford I want you, not that sick fuck Bill.” You said, leaning in to kiss him again.

Ford wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. He felt like he didn’t deserve this, not after how he treated you.

“So, where do we go from here? How can I make it up to you?” He asked.

You bit his lip. “You can let me fuck you.”

Ford’s cheeks turned pink. He stammered. “I- if that’s really what you want.”

You nodded. “It’s all I want.”

He gingerly scooped you into his arms, his trench coat falling to the floor. He carried you up the stairs.

“If we’re going to do this I want it to be somewhere more comfortable.” He said softly.

He reached his room, opening the door and setting you gently on his bed. Oh my god you were in his bed. You grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him on top of you and kissing him deeply. He felt himself grow hard, god the way you took control was so hot, he knew you really wanted him. His hands traveled down your body, your skin was so soft. You broke away.

“Strip for me.” You whispered.

He got off the bed, obviously nervous, no one had ever wanted to see him sans clothes before. He loosened his tie, dropping it to the floor. He began unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his torso. You licked your lips, his chest hair made him so much hotter. His hands traveled to his belt buckle, he undid it and let his pants fall to the floor. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and slid them off, his cock now on full display.

You sat up on the edge of the bed, spreading your legs.

“Come here, get on your knees for me.” You cooed.

He sank to his knees in front of you. Lifting your legs over his shoulders.

“I hope I can do a good enough job for y- mmf.” You grabbed is hair and shoved his mouth onto your clit.

He swirled his tongue around it, making small circles. You moaned at the feeling of his hot breath on your pussy. He slid two fingers inside you, pumping vigorously.

“God you taste so good, stardust.”

Stardust? You liked that. You thrusted your hips against his mouth and he responded with a moan into your clit. He curled his fingers against your g-spot.

“You’re such a good boy.” You purred.

Ford blushed and his cock throbbed hard. God he loved your praise, no one had ever called him that before. He returned your praise by quickening the pace of his tongue and fingers. He wanted to feel you cum on his tongue.

A growl escaped from his lips, the rumble vibrating on your clit. Your breathing increased, you felt yourself getting close. You tightened your grip on his hair and he sucked your clit furiously.

“You’re doing so good for me, ah.” You said, right on the edge.

You came undone on his mouth, he didn’t want to stop, you deserved to feel like this after what he did to you.

“Was I good?” He looked up at you, glasses askew.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking his cheek with your thumb “very good. Now, get on the bed and lie back.”

He did as you said without hesitation. You bent over and picked up his black tie off the floor.

“You ever been tied up before?”

He shook his head.

You laughed. “I guess you’re gonna learn today.”

You pinned his wrists above his head and bound them together with the silk tie.

“Does that feel tight enough?”

“Mhm.” He nodded.

“Good, you look so sexy tied up for me.” You said as you leaned down and kissed him.

You straddled his hips and began to lower yourself onto his cock. You felt your pussy stretch around him and moved slowly to adjust to his girth. He moaned loudly.

“Oh my god you feel so fucking perfect. I- ah, I didn’t get a chance to feel you before, Bill wouldn’t let m- hmp.“

You shoved your hand over his mouth. “Shut up about Bill.”

You rocked your hips, feeling his cock slide in and out of you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of adoration. You left him spellbound. He never wanted this to end. He throbbed madly inside of you.

“Nhhhgh, please don’t stop, you feel t-too good.” He moaned.

You started to speed up, the bed groaning underneath the both of you. You reach a hand down, putting it to his throat and squeezing. He lets out a strained moan, stars forming in his vision.

You roll your hips at a fast, steady rhythm. You leaned down and cupped his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, he moaned into your mouth.

“Untie me, I want- I need to touch you, to feel you cum on my cock.” He pleaded breathlessly.

You loved seeing him tied up underneath you but the idea of cumming with him deep inside you was too enticing. You pulled the knot loose, tossing it aside. With his hand free he let it travel down to your clit, and began to trace figure eights into the sensitive flesh.

After cumming once already it wouldn’t take long to get there again. You thrust your hips against his fingers, the momentum stroking his cock.

“Fuck, just like that, stardust. You’re too fucking good at this.” He panted.

He increased the pressure and speed to your clit, you were seconds from cumming. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you grinded in a frenzy on him. Your threw your head back as you felt your orgasm surge through you. Your pussy contracting around his cock. His brow furrowed and his eyes shut tight.

“Dear god that feels so- ah fuck- incredible. C- can I- nnngh- cum in you?”

“Beg for it.” You demanded.

“Please, let me cum in you. I want to- hhhngh- knock you up, I don’t care about the consequences. I just need to see you, stomach swollen with our child growing inside you. I’ve wanted it for so long. Please, I’ll do anything. I’m begging you, stardust.” He whimpered desperately, his eyes pleading.

“Goddam, you really can be a freak, sixer.” You taunted.

“I- is that a yes?”

“Have me, Ford.” You smirked.

Both hands grabbed your hips. He bucked into you wildly.

“Mmmh, that’s my good boy.” You cooed.

That sent him over the edge. His grip on your hips tightened as he slammed you down on the full length of his cock. He came deep inside you, throbbing with each rope he shot into you, the warmth flooding your insides. His eyes rolled back as the waves of pleasure rolled through him like the ocean.

A playful grin creased your lips and you started moving your hips again. He drew in a sharp breath.

“No no no no no, stop that’s too much I can’t- I can’t take it. I- ah, I already came, it’s too sensitive.” He whined.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself, I had to see what you looked like when you’re overstimulated. And it was worth it, you looked so cute.” You said, tilting his chin up into a kiss.

You slowly pulled yourself off of Ford, eliciting a small whimper from him. You laid down beside him and he turned on his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his head on your breast. You stroked his hair. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of Ford against you lulling you to sleep.

-

You awoke to the morning sun streaming through the window. Ford spooning you, him pressed against your back, his arm underneath your chest. He stirred softly.

“Mmm, good morning, stardust.” He mumbled sleepily, pressing a kiss into the back of your neck.

“Morning, sixer.”

“Last night was incredible, I didn’t know sex could be THAT good.”

“Glad I could enlighten you.” You chuckled.

He stayed pressed against you for a long while before he spoke.

“I’m gonna get up and make us breakfast, it’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.” He said, pressing another kiss to your neck before getting himself out of bed.

He fumbled through his dresser, putting on a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He was making his way to the door before he stopped.

“Oh I almost forgot.”

He returned to the dresser and pulled out an old BMU sweatshirt and green athletic shorts.

“I haven’t worn these since college, but hopefully they should fit you fine enough.”

You pulled on the sweatshirt and shorts. “How do I look?”

Fords heart thumped in his chest, something about you wearing his clothes did things to him.

“Like my stardust.” He said, walking over to you and kissing you. “Now, I’m going to go sort out that breakfast.”

He left the room, shutting the door behind him. You flopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Replaying the events of last night over in your head, starting with what happened down in the lab.

You felt a twinge of shame for trusting him after what happened, sure it wasn’t his fault, it was Bill’s. But still, Ford was the one who made a deal with him in the first place. You took a deep, long sigh. You had known Ford since college, pined for him from the moment you first met, leapt at the chance when he called you up asking for you to come work with him in Oregon.

He hadn’t betrayed your trust before in the decade you’ve known him, perhaps this was just a misfortune of outlying circumstances. You made the executive decision to go with your heart and put your faith in him, come hell or high water. Not even the looming threat of Bill’s wrath would stop you.

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[funkyplantguy]

grian gets saved by hotguy and then pines over him <3

so this "au" (if you can even call it that when it exists exclusively in my brain and now in this ask) is mostly crack and comes from me joking around a couple days ago with some friends so...don't take it too seriously. that being said...

-

you have (3) new comments! view now?

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areeongreenday: hey! so this is insane.

click.

h0tguysnumber0n3fan: i guess i kind of understand where you're coming from with this - scar goodman and hotguy do share a similar sense of humor, and i sort of see what you're saying at 47:03 when you compared their voices (more specifically, the inflection they use on specific words) but...i guess i'm having a hard time imagining scar as a superhero. don't get me wrong - he's plenty cool, but...didn't he say that he's a full-time content creator now? i don't know that he'd really have the time to record, edit, and post videos on top of saving the city on a near-daily basis. interesting theory, though! admire the dedication.

click.

scargoodman: ;)

and there it was, taunting him - that damn winky face, yet again, commented nearly instantaneously each time grian uploaded a new video about the man itself. scar goodman - known to many as the man who had risen to sudden fame in the video essayist community with his charming good looks and boisterous personality. scar goodman, whom grian suspected was secretly none other than the city's beloved superhero. after all, they'd both made their debuts within a week of each other and shared not only a similar path of success but a similar sense of humor, a similar speaking style, a similar body type, a similar laugh...sure, there were things that didn't quite line up, but...for the most part, they appeared to be the exact same person.

okay - maybe grian was a little obsessed. but what was he supposed to do, not point out the obvious?

what made matters worse was that nobody seemed to believe him. no matter how many videos he posted, no matter how much proof he gave...nobody was willing to hear him out.

nobody except scar goodman himself, who seemed intent to drive him absolutely insane.

grian grumbled something to himself, pocketing his phone and continuing down the long, narrow sidewalk to his apartment complex. he'd lost track of time at work yet again, and as a result, the sun had long set. this wasn't unusual for him - he often opted to remain late in the office to "finish up a few things" (ie take advantage of the functional wifi his workplace offered instead of trying to upload videos on his crummy home network), so he was...fairly comfortable tracing the path back to his apartment in the dark of night. the street lights in this part of town didn't work exceptionally well, but with the familiarity of it all and the dull light of the moon, grian typically fared well enough.

tonight, however...well, call him paranoid, but...something felt...off. something about the way all the buildings around him were dark, indicating that their inhabitants were either asleep or out (and entirely unreachable if grian were to call for help). something about the absence of the various stray cats that he often crossed paths with. something about how the complete and utter silence made his ears ring.

"aw, what's this? a cute guy? well, pretty boy, you've just entered the wrong part of town at the wrong time. unfortunately, loose lips sink ships, or...uh...however the saying goes, so...sorry, i can't let you leave this visit alive."

before grian could even register the words being spoken (where were they even coming from?? above him? below him? behind him? everywhere, all at once?), he felt hands gripping the back of his shirt. in another moment, he was on the ground, his breath clawing its way out of his chest. above him stood a figure, shrouded in darkness and the billowing, starry cape draped across their shoulders. in their hands was something glinting, something sharp, something deadly -- something that grian's frazzled, spinning mind was unable to put a name to. or maybe it refused to - refused to name the tool that would be his doom. maybe it was better that way, he mused idly, as the figure raised it high above their head. maybe it was best to not know.

"hey! there you are - what did i say about running off?"

and just as quickly as he'd accepted his death, the threat of it was gone, vanquished by the appearance of the tall, costumed man on the rooftop adjacent. grian felt his breath return to his chest in one fell swoop, filling his lungs and sending a wave of sensitivity to his throat. he coughed, hard, tears welling helplessly in his eyes, and the newcomer's attention snapped to him in an instant.

"oh - and you've made a friend! how nice. unfortunately, there are no plus ones in prison."

"hotguy," grian's would-be murderer snarled. "i thought i'd lost you."

"nah. i may have gotten lost, sure. but you didn't lose me. there's a difference."

"you'll wish that i'd lost you when i'm through with you."

"oh, that was lame!" the man cried, hopping over the low rooftop wall and landing neatly on the ground below (how he did it, even grian wasn't sure. by all intents and purposes, his legs shouldn't have that level of shock absorption, even if he had been fed some chemical cocktail by a mad scientist at a young age as he boasted). "listen - we've got to get you a better catchphrase."

hotguy strode forward, his eyes glinting behind his tinted visor. he glanced to grian out of the corner of his eye, then back to the villain - then back to grian again, his mouth going slack in surprise. grian met his gaze - took in his appearance - and let out a bark of laughter, one not missed by either scar goodman or the cloaked figure in front of him. scar returned his laughter, throwing his head back and planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"well, what a coincidence," he giggled, after a moment. "my new catchphrase just so happens to be "subscribe to my youtube channel."

"what?" their third demanded, glancing between the two. "what are you talking about?"

"oh my god. there's no way. there's no way. how - how am i the only one who knows? how am i the only one who suspects?? it's obvious - it's so obvious."

"what's obvious?"

"i know, right? i make it as obvious as possible, and still...still, nobody puts two and two together. well...nobody except for you, apparently. i guess that you're just...special."

"why don't you just come out and say it?" grian mused, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the sputtering from their newly acquired third wheel. "i feel like if you said it - either as scar goodman or hotguy - people would have to believe it, no?"

a strange look came over hotguy's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"ah...i don't think that would change anything. plus, i have this thing with this cute guy where he tries to tell everyone my identity and i egg him on to get him to make more silly videos. i would hate to give that up."

he winked, and grian felt warmth climb his cheeks. gone was the fear, gone was the panic, gone was the darkness and the creeping, crawling sense of unease - instead, there was only curiosity, burning brightly in his chest. he wanted to talk to scar - hotguy - for hours, wanted to pull the object of his obsession apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together again, just to see what would happen. he wanted to get to know who hotguy was underneath the suit - and who scar goodman was with the suit. he'd wanted (he'd wanted for so long) and it felt like maybe...just maybe...he'd get to have.

"hey! what the hell is going on?"

"oh, right," hotguy chuckled, turning his attention to the third member of their party. "sorry - didn't mean to ignore you. here - sit tight, for real this time. the police will be here soon."

"dude, i'm just going to leave again. do you really not have handcuffs or something?"

"who needs handcuffs when you have a cub to design fancy gadgets for you?"

"a...a what?" the figure asked, then yelped, startled, as something exploded out of the cuff on hotguy's wrist. a net, affixing itself neatly to their body, wrapping them up in a cocoon of their own folly. grian stared at it, humming in approval.

"nice."

"thank you! it's new."

"i know."

"i bet you do," scar responded, and grian flushed further at the teasing edge his tone took on. "i bet you know almost everything about me, at this point. obsessed, much?"

"i could say the same," grian huffed back, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off his jeans (there was a rip in one leg, now, he noticed with a frown). "you recognized me, like, immediately. it's pretty dark out, too - sounds like you're the one obsessed."

"what can i say - you're pretty and smart. i happen to like my men pretty and smart."

grian sputtered incoherently in response, all confidence gone out the window. oh god - he was even more charismatic in person, even in costume. and god, was the costume more attractive in person, as well - baggy cargo pants and a tight, fitted top that exposed his tanned midriff. not the most tactical, sure - but damn was it hot.

"you can't say that," he moaned, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands. "oh my god. i hate you. i've known you for five minutes and i already hate you."

"sure you do," scar responded, grinning. "i - oh, hold on."

he raised his hand and tapped the earpiece affixed to the side of his head, concentrating. after a moment, he sighed - and for just a second, grian thought that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. as quickly as they sagged, however, scar was straightening, turning back to grian with an easy smile.

"sorry, handsome, duty calls. are you alright to get back home on your own? i doubt this guy will be giving you any more trouble. those nets are pretty sturdy."

"wait!" grian sputtered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest (no, no, he couldn't let scar slip through his fingers, not now, not when he was finally so close). "don't go - i...can i see you again?"

scar's smile wobbled around the edges, and any panic grian felt was replaced with guilty - heavy and suffocating (though he wasn't sure why)

"ah...isn't it more fun, this way? don't you like the chase? isn't that exhilaration enough for your pretty little head?"

"i mean...it's a fun hobby, yeah, but -,"

"then we'll stick to the status quo. after all, i'd hate to rob you of your favorite hobby. goodnight, grian. can't wait for your next video."

and with a wink, he was gone, disappearing back into the shadows so quickly grian could have sworn he was made of them. and grian...well. he had an apartment to get home to, a cat to feed...and a chase to continue. and maybe, someday, if he was fast enough...he'd catch up.

[yujinnieswifeu]

Can you do tomboy reader× who you want

Where reader is a called a bunny by her girlfriend because she like to bounce on her mommy's cock and like when her girlfriend spread her buttcheeks

(G!p idol×non idol bottom reader and can reader wear a bunny head band plzz?)

-💫

a/n: hi 💫 anonn, firstly wanna say that i’m truly sorry for the long update, thank you for being so patient w me yall 🥺. And secondly, thanks for req heh, i think i wrote smtg similar w wony if im right, but here is another one w wony since i think she fits the description the best heh, hope thats alright w you!! Enjoy this one~

pairings: bottom reader x dom g!p Wonyoung

warnings: porn w/o a plot (i’m rlly busy these days so apologies 🥹) , smut, reader is referred to as bunny, cumming on face, spanking, reader calls Wony mommy, not proofread either

———————————————————————

No one knows you like Wonyoung does. The way you would whine for her behind closed doors, only she knew how needy you truly was from her. See, you were someone that dresses up like a tomboy, so of course people would think you were the top in the relationship. What they failed to see was that you truly were the opposite. Which brings you to the situation now.

“Not so cocky now huh bunny?” Wonyoung hisses against your ear, her hands sliding down your back to rest on your ass, gripping the now red and swollen skin making you let out a whimper. “S-sorry mommy..p-please…” you didn’t know exactly what you were begging for as you bounced on her cock, a moaning mess.

You were the prettiest like this to Wonyoung, eyes rolling back, hands gripping her arms tightly, boobs jiggling, and with the bunny headband, fuck. You were perfect. “Whose pussy does this belong to bunny?” She says rather breathlessly, her hands landing another harsh smack to your ass, hearing a cry escape from your lips as your body twitches, your head resting against her shoulder, whining softly against her ear. She removes one of her hand to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at her. “Answer me.” She growls, her other hand squeezing your asscheek which was now sore. “Y-ou…you mommy..!” You whine out, feeling her land another slap against your asscheek. It makes you let out a pained cry this time, and she revels in the way your eyes shine with tears.

“I didn’t say you can stop right bun?” Your girlfriend shifts her hand over your neck, squeezing the sides of the neck with her slender fingers, it makes your eyes roll, mouth agape as you let out a soft moan. “Don’t. Stop. Bouncing. On. Mommy’s. Cock.” Her hips moves up with each of her words, it almost makes you see stars with how her tip brushes against your sweet spot, the delicious feeling makes your walls flutter around her even more. “Understand?” Wonyoung’s voice coming out low and you nod your head yes, starting to bounce on her cock again. She groans softly, her hands now at your hips, guiding you as you bounce on her cock like the good slut you were, your moans getting louder which was music to Wonyoung’s ears.

“F-fuck, faster.” She groans, her head resting against the headboard as she watches you bounce on her cock, the headband you were wearing which was bunny ears moving with each bounce, and it makes her cock twitch inside of you. Her hands slides down to your asscheeks, spreading them in the process, your eyes immediately flutters shut at the feeling of her spreading your asscheeks, feeling her tip hitting your cervix this time as you let out a whimper. “Taking me so well…y-you’re so fucking tight bunny.” She moans out, starting to lose herself to the feeling of your walls deliciously fluttering around her.

Her hands squeezes your asscheeks, landing another smack to them as she feels your walls closing around her even more. “Y-you like it? Like when mommy is rough with you bun?” You could only nod your head, too lost in pleasure as you let out loose moans. “Fuck, i…i knew it.” She lands another harsh smack, your body twitches again and she enjoys the way your body responds. “Mommy..! Mo-mommy please please, wanna cum mommy..!” The desperation in your voice has her groaning, her hands squeezing at your asscheek as she spreads them. “Cum for me bunny.” At her command, you came all around her cock, moaning her name as you thank her repeatedly for letting you cum.

It was now Wonyoung’s turn to feel her impending orgasm, flipping you over as she hovers over your face, not letting you get time to calm down from your high as one of her hand strokes her twitching member, the other brushing your bunny ears. “O-open your mouth bun.” She stutters out, her mouth apart as she breathes shakily from the intense feeling between her legs. You immediately part your lips, wanting to taste her so desperately, watching how she crumbles atop of you, hips spasming as spurts of cum litters over your face and mouth, and you swore you would never get tired of her taste on your tongue. You could feel your clit throbbing again at the sight, her eyes closed as she strokes her cock slowly, breathing heavily as some more of her cum spurts over your mouth this time.

When she finally opens her eyes, she pushes her tip past your lips, watching how you eagerly bop your head over her cock, and she feels herself getting hard again. “We’re not going to stop anytime soon bunny…not until you learn your place.” You hum against her cock, hearing her groan softly as she strokes your fake bunny ears.

And that was half truthful of course, Wonyoung was as needy as you were for her, but something that will never change is that you will forever be her good submissive bunny.

[allzelemonz]

Image: Dutch Van der Linde X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: T/Violence Warnings: period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, d/s undertones, reader implied to be younger, age gap, bruises Summary: You mess up and show a little affection in public, Dutch is set off.

You weren’t thinking. It’s been so long since the gang had gone out to a saloon with all this running back West and you’d gotten so used to getting to do what you want affection wise. Dutch, however, did not forget. He was, and always is, thinking so very deeply about everything imaginable. So when you leaned over and brushed your hand against his, he noticed. He noticed like that voice itching the back of his brain said everyone else did.

So he grabbed your arm, fingers bruising at your bicep, and hauled you out and into the alley. A somewhat confused Arthur and Hosea following after and lingering just off the street as Dutch pulls you into shadow.

“The hell are you thinkin’, boy?” Dutch huffs, squeezing harshly at your arm.

“I didn’t--”

“Folks in this state get killed for that and we don’t need the goddamn heat.” His eyebrows fall downward into an angry crinkle. “Do you understand?”

You watch the twitch of his eyes, the way they scan over your face like a man that’s never seen you before. And seeing Dutch so irate with nerves makes words catch in your throat, so you settle for nodding.

“Go get on the damn horse, boy.” Dutch huffs, shoving you towards the awaiting Hosea and Arthur.

You stumble, but do as you’re told. Arthur joins you as Hosea talks to Dutch, both waving the two of you off.

Arthur turns his horse towards the south road. “You can stay in my tent tonight.” He mutters. “‘Less you wanna have Dutch yelling all night.”

So you do. You lie down on your spare bedroll under the same tent as Arthur, who snores louder than a train, utterly and completely restless without Dutch holding you. All because you forgot you can’t be such an invert outside of camp. That’s what echoes in your head until you fall asleep late into the night.

The morning isn’t much better. Grimshaw comes by, kicks your leg to wake you up and shouts at Arthur as she rattles off chores for the day. You try to lose yourself in cutting wood that morning. Hosea’s usual Dutch Damage Control, patent pending, keeps the rest of the gang from asking questions. Even Uncle keeps away while you have an axe in hand, not daring to ask for money while you’re in this state.

It isn’t until your arms ache that someone finally stops you, a hand landing on your shoulder and squeezing. You freeze, knowing it’s Dutch from the familiar rough rings digging into your skin.

“You’re overdoing it.” He mutters.

“I’m fine.”

His hand squeezes harshly, enough to make you want to squirm but Dutch trained you out of that a long time ago. “Tent, boy. Now.”

When his hand leaves your shoulder, you drop the axe without another word. The walk to his tent is silent. The whole camp is on edge as Dutch drops the flaps of his tent. You wait in the middle of the wooden platform of a floor, knowing he’ll tell you where to sit. He does, gestures to the cot.

As you sit, he stares for a moment. His eyes look over you and he adjusts his rings before he speaks. “Hosea said I was too harsh with you.”

“It was fine.”

“Shirt.”

You look up at him for a moment before taking it off. His hand comes to your arm the second it’s gone, fingers brushing the bruises that formed from his grip.

“Just needed you to understand what’s at stake.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“You’ve done worse.”

“Only when asked.” Dutch shakes his head, moving his hand to tilt your head up. “I never get carried away like that. I… I was simply worried, my dear.”

“You don’t have to explain.” You turn your head away from his hand. “Just Hosea’s words anyway…”

“Stop that.” He snaps. “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

You take a breath, staring off into nothing for a moment before nodding lightly.

“Then believe me when I say I’m sorry.” Dutch sighs as he sits beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you to lean against him. “If I’m gonna run cons in town, I need to seem respectable. That’s all.”

“I know.” You mutter.

“I’ll take you out this week, a dinner away from camp… nice hotel.” He chuckles. “But if anyone asks, you’re my nephew.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, Dutch, just don’t go crazy like that…” You speak softly, leaning further into him until he puts his arms around you.

“Did I scare my boy?”

“Not that much of a pansy.” You mutter.

He sighs, running a hand through your hair. “I missed you last night.”

“Could take a nap.”

He hums, kissing the top of your head. “Wonderful idea, my boy.”

[starandcloud]

Birthday Cake

I'm feeling angsty right now, so have this lmao-

CW: Loss of mother, Bruce calling reader sweetheart as an affectionate fatherly nickname

TW: Reader almost has a panic attack

DC Mainlist

Mainlist

You understood fully what it was like to lose a mother, and you remembered the agonizing months after losing her. How you'd cry until your throat hurt and how your eyes would burn the morning after, you'd remember how the survivors guilt would eat you alive for years. Every now and then you still get the feeling that it was your fault. That you could've prevented her death, despite being five and your mother having a stroke. You felt like you couldn't done something to save her. But now, at the ripe age of sixteen, you realized you couldn't have. You couldn't save her, and you were fine with that. You were fine with knowing you couldn't have prevented that, and you thought you had gotten over it. Even when your father killed himself and you were put into foster care before being adopted by Bruce, you were okay with it. You knew you couldn't have stopped either death, you were a kid. What could you have possibly done? You were damn certain you were over it all, that it was just something that happened at this point. It was over a decade ago, so why would it still bother you? You answer came in the form of a small boy, only eleven, who looked so... broken down, yet angry. He looked so angry, and you knew the look all too well. When your father called you down, you thought dinner was just early. Nothing could've prepared you for this, for the guilt of your parents to rise up your spine and make you physically sick. Your eyes stayed locked on the boy as he looked up at you with eyes that should've belonged to a fully grown adult. An adult who had a job, who had kids and a home. Not an eleven-year-old child. You could feel the bile rise up your throat and you crossed your arms over your stomach, as if to hold your lunch down as you and the boy stared at each other. As if having a silent, yet mutual, understanding of what had happened to him. What he had lost.

"This is Jason, be gentle with him sweetheart. He's a similar case to you..." Your father whispered to you as he gently put a hand on your back and suddenly your sweater felt like fire and your pants were squeezing your body to tight and your feet were both on fire yet freezing as you nodded slowly. Feeling sick to your stomach yet you slowly walked forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Come on little one," you urged, "lets get you into a room alright? Get your bed set up how you'd like and then we'll have dinner alright..?"

You softly asked as you led him towards the stairs, one hand on his back and the other holding his hand. Which he had taken it upon himself to take, gripping it in a bone crushing grasp as he silently followed you. Even through his worn-out clothes, you could feel how tense he was as you led him towards the room across from yours. You could see how his other hand gripped something in his pocket and his eyes, as emotionally worn down and sad as they were, kept looking up at you. As if he was expecting you to do something to harm him, which only made the guilt in your stomach bubble again and you gripped his hand a bit tighter. As soon as you opened the door you gently let him go and turned on the light, smiling gently as the light flooded the room. Revealing a very basic bedroom. Just a bed, nightstand, and dresser. But it was also a guest room, so there obviously wasn't going to be much in there.

"I'll be right back kiddo, alright? Gonna go see if I have any old clothes in my room. Promise I won't put you in bubblegum pink and hello kitty."

You joked with a small laugh as you looked at Jason as he wandered into the room and just stared around at everything, like he had never seen something this grand. When you left him, he was standing in the middle of the room but when you returned, he had settled onto the floor. His back pressed against the wall and his eyes observantly watching the room around him, like he was expecting danger.

"Jason," you softly called out as you knocked on the door, "I brough you some clothes. I couldn't find much, I'm sorry bud, but I found a good pair of jeans and an old t-shirt if you want it buddy?" You offered gently as you slowly stepped in, taking note of how his eyes followed you and your movements. Almost like he was scared something was going to happen. You gently shut the door before, with careful and slow movements, sitting down in front of him. Crossing your legs as you smiled gently, pushing down your own tears and panic, before setting the clothes down on the floor beside you.

"Stupid question Jason but are... are you okay..? I know that look you gave me a bit ago, I know it all too well actually, if you want to talk I'm he-" "Shut up."

He cut you off, glaring at you with icy eyes as he gritted his teeth and pushed himself against the wall more. His reactions to your closeness made you frown gently as you slowly nodded and, stood up and headed towards your door. You turned your back to him, showing a silent trust, as you walked. Just as you were about to open the door you looked back at him. "I mean it kid, I'm here, just across the hall, alright? I'll see you at dinner? Alfred is making spaghetti tonight, a request, he's really nice. Dinner is at six, in an hour." You said quietly before heading out the door, gently clicking it shut behind you, before seeking out the butler. Knowing you needed to cry your eyes dry right now.

You wandered until you found him, diligently cooking in the kitchen, and you gently knocked on the door.

"Alfred," you called out; your voice shaking slightly, "can... can I talk to you..?"

You quietly asked, your tone making him stop cooking and looking at you. A concerned look in his eyes as he wiped his hands dry and stepped towards you.

"Of course," he reassured, "what's bothering you?"

He questioned with a soft tone as you shuffled towards him and wrapped your arms tight around him, burying your face from view as your shoulders started to shake and you started to cry.

"That kid! H-He had the same look I did! I-I-I-I don't even think he's thirteen Alfred!" You sobbed out as you clung to him tighter, making him slowly hug you and wrap his arms tight around you. Pulling you into, what would typically be, a bone crushing hug as he let you sob. You weren't sure how long you cried for, but you knew dinner was late and even as you sat at the table you still looked like you were on the verge of crying again. You gently pushed your food around, not really having an appetite before small footsteps made you look up. Jason stood at the end of the table, dressed in your old t-shirt and pants as his eyes anxiously flicked around from you, to Bruce, to Alfred, then back to you. Making you slowly pull the chair next to you out and smiling softly, a silent offer for him to sit next to you. Which he hesitantly took, letting himself sink into the chair and watched as you pushed your plate towards him.

"Eat," you whispered, "you look starving kiddo."

Even with your hushed tone, honest concern and warmth seeped into your voice as you smiled warmly before you gingerly ruffled his hair and put your cup in front of him. Making him look up at you with eyes of questions and confusion, which only made you slowly shake your head. Another silent understanding between the two of you, which Bruce didn't quite seem to understand but Alfred did. He understood every look you gave and every small movement you made with the little boy beside you. Taking on a role of support for the young boy, which you had needed so desperately when you first came. Alfred had taken it upon himself to be that role for you and was relatively proud of how well he had done.

After dinner you cleaned up, not being able to sit still any longer, and found that you had a little shadow. Not that you minded, knowing you had done the same to Alfred for years, so you just let Jason follow you as you washed, dried, and put the dishes away. You let him be your shadow until you headed towards your room. To which you stopped and turned to look at him.

"Do you want me to tuck you in buddy? I'll leave the lamp on and my door open, alright?"

You offered with a strange warmth in your voice, making Jason stare up at you with furrowed eyebrows before he nodded and just stood there as you offered your hand. A soft gesture Alfred had done to you many times when Bruce had first adopted you. The butler really had rubbed off you, hadn't he? You gently led Jason into the room across from yours and gently picked him up, making him jolt and tense up as your hands went under his armpits and didn't quite relax when you put him on the bed. He just... stared up at you, as if he was experiencing this for the first time, as you tucked him in before ruffling his hair and turning the lamp on the bedside table on the lowest setting before smiling.

"I'm right across the hall, alright little man? Just come over and wake me up if you need me. It won't be a bother."

You promised as you gently gave his hand a squeeze before heading towards the door and shutting the overhead light off before leaving. Making sure you leave his door open just enough you could hear him if he got up, maybe it was just your natural instinct to protect the little ones around you. But you felt like you needed to be the support beam in his life.

The next morning, you woke up to the sun assaulting your eyes. Making you groan and pull the blanket over your face. You laid there for about ten more minutes before you forced yourself up, changing out of the clothes you slept in and into a sweatshirt and jeans. Which was really all you wore anymore, not feeling confident enough to pull off the latest fashion. You spent your morning in the library, enjoying silence and solitude when you heard a crash. Making you jolt and get up, as quickly as your body would let you that early, and headed towards the reason of the crash. When you rounded the corner, you saw Jason the ground. Books scattered about him as he glared at the bookshelf, as if it had been the reason he had fallen. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did his glare turned to you. A scowl on his lips and his brows furrowed.

"I fell..."

He muttered, making you slowly nod.

"I can see that buddy," you said gently and slowly made your way towards him, "are you hurt?"

You softly asked, making him scoff as his gaze fell to the floor where you knelt, "no," he murmured out as you gently ran your fingers over the back of his skull. Checking for a bump before pushing hair from his face, making sure there was no gash on his face. With every touch, he flinched away and almost jolted as you checked him for any wounds. With each flinch, your concern grew. What had his life been like before this? Was he beaten or something?

"Good news little dude, I can't find any battle wounds."

You said as you smiled warmly. Your words brought a snort from him as he tried to force back a smile as he looked away from you, trying to conceal his smile. Your smile only grew as you stood up, your knees popping as you did, before you grabbed a book down and held it out to him.

"Here," you gently spoke, "it's a good book and a quick read. I think you'll like it."

You said, a soft tone in your voice as he gently reached up before snatching the book from you. Making you jump slightly as his eyes danced over the cover, a flicker of familiarity in his eyes before he forced himself up and darted away from you. Into a different corner of the library, far away from you, before you rolled your eyes gently and bent down.

"Guess I'm picking this up then."

You said, a slight fondness for the boy in your voice as you collected the books before putting them back onto the shelves, all in the respective places before you slowly made your way back to your reading spot. You plucked your book up before gently settling back into your window bench, letting the sun warm your body as you read.

It took a long while, but Jason slowly opened up to you. Spending more and more time with you, out of his room, as he stuck close to you. It had been late at night, just as you were drifting off to sleep, when he walked in. Jason stood by your bed before reaching up with a shaking hand.

"He-ey... are... are you awa-ake..?"

His voice was shaky and his words were broken up, making it hard to ignore it. You sat up and turned your lamp on, the warm glow of the light illuminated the tears in his eyes as he looked down. As if he was ashamed for coming to you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake buddy. What- What's the matter?"

You asked, panic clear in your voice as you looked at him and moved over in your bed. Gently patting your sheets, inviting him to climb into bed with you. Which he took without a second thought. Jason sat on the bed before thumping against you, he curled into you and gripped your sleep shirt tightly as a quiet sob left his lips. Making you hold him tight and press a tender kiss to his head.

"It's okay," you softly promised, "you can cry darling. You're safe here, you're safe with me..."

You whispered out, holding him a bit tighter as you gently rocked the both of you. A slight British accent laced your words, most likely from Alfred, as you gently placed your chin on his head and closed your eyes. Just letting him cry, you knew he needed it. So you didn't speak again, just held him tightly as he sobbed against you. His cries shattered your heart as you squeezed your eyes shut, remembering when you sounded like that. So, broken down and sad. It brought you years back and you just held him tighter as you kissed his head again as you tried not to cry yourself.

You weren't exactly sure how long he cried, but you just kept holding him tight and rocking gently until his cries dwindled down into whimpers and soft sniffles.

"Do... Do you think she even loved me..? Like... what would she even say right now..?"

Jason's question caught you off guard, and you just sat in a stunned silence before you pulled away and stood up as you headed towards your dresser. Looking for a sweatshirt for him in the dim light.

"Well," you started as you plucked a sweatshirt from your closet and headed back to him, "it's hard to say exactly. I'm not sure what she'd say..."

Your words trailed off as you gently slipped the sweatshirt onto him and settled back onto your bed, a bit away from him as you smiled gently and took his hand.

"I didn't know your mom, but I'll let you in on a little bit of advice someone told me once."

You spoke so gently as you held his smaller hand in yours and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, preparing yourself to bring up something that Alfred had said years ago.

"An old friend told me that things will happen, sometimes we don't like it. Sometimes we hate it, or it makes us feel like we're drowning in our own body. Or like apart of us died with them," you said with a bittersweet tone as you glanced away from Jason, "but," you said softly as you looked back at him with a warm smile, "I think she'd want you to live like the worlds on fire, and love like your heart could never break, never look down on yourself when you're feeling like it's your fault. I don't think she'd want you to regret what you could or couldn't do, I think she'd want you to pretend she made it to thirty eight and made the birthday cake she promised... I want to think she didn't want you to think that you're the only one on your team, but I'll always be on your team Jason. I'll root for you no matter what, I will back you up if you're right or wrong. Because I will always, always, be here for you little man. Alright..?"

You gently asked, softly gripping his hand, as you accidentally let your own mother's death seep into your words as you leaned forward and kissed his forehead warmly. When he wasn't crying, he usually shoved you away when you kissed his head. But this time he leaned into you, curling into your chest and stomach as you held him tight and let your eyes close as you let him be a little kid. The two of you sat in silence for a long time, you wanted to say around ten or fifteen minutes, before Jason spoke up.

"I... I love you..."

His little confession made your body tense up and your head lift, making him look up at you with terrified eyes. As if he had just said something to push you away, but instead of pulling away like he expected. You smiled gently and let one of your hands ruffle his hair affectionately.

"I love you too buddy, I love you too."

[myfavouritelunatic]

More Painful Sacrifices - Chapter Two

Surprise! I was simply too inspired by episode six, I had to continue this! And I've already planned a third chapter as well haha.

Enjoy! ❤️

The clink of the shackle around Galadriel’s wrist rang in her pointed ears. A reminder of her imprisonment, that despite her ‘dinner’ with the orc leader, her freedom was not currently her own. Though this food was more appealing than the bowl of slop at least.

“We will speak again.” Adar uttered as he walked away, leaving Galadriel chained to her seat and staring almost vacantly at the table before her. She felt her mind spiralling, sent down into an endless abyss from which there was no escape. How could a creature such as Adar share a common experience with her? How could he know what it is that he made her feel? Another reason to add to the many of why Galadriel must see to Sauron’s end. And now, with Morgoth’s crown, the existence of the rings… that end might just be possible.

Though she felt… hollow. Breathless. Lifeless. The acknowledgment of the absence of Sauron in her every day… it had put a name to that heartache. And while Galadriel loathed that her and Adar had an understanding, it was strangely reassuring to know that the emptiness she felt was real.

It meant that what they had—

Was real.

“Get out of my mind!” Galadriel hissed at the disembodied voice in her head.

Then you do not wish me to stay? To fill the void my absence created?

“I wish for you to torment me no longer!”

I only want to heal you, Galadriel.

“Stop! Stop it! I am never going to come to you, to be at your side! Cease your futile efforts, Deceiver!”

Let me help.

“You have helped me enough. I am in pain with you, I am in pain without you, my world is forever changed, even more so than after you took my brother from me! I cannot go back to the life I once had because of you! But I would rather you be gone from me than hear your voice grind within my head!”

They still doubt you, Galadriel. Don’t they? They see no other path for you than the one I have laid at your feet. Why not take my hand and walk its way?

“You know very well why! Or are you not as clever as is told?”

Are you? All other roads are blocked to you. I know you do not wish to be alone. I felt it when we—

“No. Do not.” He flashed an image in her mind, the two of them on that log. The moment that haunted her still. Where he had her by the throat with an invisible grip.

Is it not this… feeling between us… is it not that which makes you barren?

“No.”

Remember how it felt, Galadriel. Remember all we did together. Remember how you felt when you looked in my eyes and saw me. Saw your kindred spirit. Saw at last… the one who would share your burden. Who understood your darkness. Remember how it felt. Remember what it awoke.

“Awoke?”

That part of you that had laid dormant so long. Your fëa began to sing, it began to call to me.

“What?”

It knew, the deepest part of you knew you had found what you were meant to find. And in that song a fire did spark, and in me it did rage, Galadriel. Can you feel the embers tickling your skin? Igniting your flesh like dry brush begging to be incinerated?

“Please… Halbrand… I cannot—"

“You can.” His voice whispered in her ear, coming from behind her, like a spectre summoned with the utterance of his name.

Even though it wasn’t his name. Not really.

And they weren’t Halbrand’s hands now either, but Galadriel felt them upon her shoulders, running slowly down her arms, stopping only when one hand came to rest atop her own, and the other hand grasped at her iron cuff.

He was here. Again. Visible only to her eye, but still feeling as if flesh before her.

“There would be no chance of chains with me, Galadriel.” “I beg to differ.” She replied staunchly. Sauron laughed lowly, a sound just for her. “Though… if you insisted…” He breathed on her neck, and the elf could feel, just as he said, her skin being incinerated. She gasped. “Stop resisting me. You only delay the inevitable.”

“Remove yourself from me. I beg you.” “Or what? All I am doing is giving you what you desire. I am the only one that can give that to you.” Sauron stated, before moving himself around to kneel at her side, in an almost gesture of submission. She kept staring ahead, desperately committing to memory every morsel of food upon the table. Doing anything to not see him. Anything to not spend a moment thinking about what desires his irresistible power could fulfill. “I am here for you, Galadriel. Not for myself.” “Deceit. Everything you do is to serve yourself.” “Look at me, Galadriel. Please.” She held fast and kept eyeing a particularly thick bone that had only a sliver of white meat remaining at its tip.

“Galadriel…” His voice fell to a whisper, which matched the ghosting touch of his hand that now moved across her thigh. She tensed. She heard gravel move. He had shifted closer to her, his hand now stretched across her lap, moving slowly across her other thigh, more firmly now. The she-elf still resisted. But then she felt something heavier come to rest upon her, and knowing only what it could be, she feared it. She feared more than ever to glance down at him.

For it would be her undoing.

“Galadriel…”

Halbrand’s voice. Why did it have to be Halbrand’s voice? His song calling back to her, telling her he was ready, that he wanted her equally. That the feeling between them was shared. He was so warm in her lap, it was as if she could feel the fire he spoke of, the flames within him that she had ignited.

She lifted up her free hand with the sudden intention to push Sauron off of her, but was taken aback by something she did not expect. The absence of her ring. Of Nenya. This was the hand upon which it had rested, this ring that had guided her. And even though it was gone now, there was a truth she could not deny.

It had lead her here.

To Adar.

And to Sauron. Just as she knew it would.

It was exactly as he said. Inevitable.

In that moment she finally let her eyes fall upon the beast in her lap. But a beast he was not. All he was, was Halbrand.

Galadriel began to cry.

She watched one of her tears land on his cheek, and he did nothing to brush it away. He only gazed up at her, smiling with that warmth that radiated within him. She could feel his thumb grazing her leg. “H-halbrand…” “Shhh… it’s alright. I’m here. At last.”

The hand she raised in hatred, was now brought down upon him in love, and even though he wasn’t truly here, she could feel him. She could feel all of him. His hair was so soft, and he sighed as she ran her hand through it. Halbrand nuzzled into her, and all the tension Galadriel had been carrying was suddenly released. She let go. She gave in.

She stopped resisting.

“What are we to do?” She asked him, her voice still trembling from the plethora of emotions spilling from her heart. “We will be together soon. Don’t worry.” Halbrand spoke softly into her belly. “But how?” “You need not know how, Galadriel. As long as you know when. That is all that matters.” He suddenly reached for her hand, pulling it down to his lips. His kiss scorched her and lingered like a scar. But it felt so good. She wanted more.

“I told you… what you felt… I can give it to you. If you’ll let me?”

She felt her desire begin to well up inside her, to the point of it expelling from her bright blue eyes, falling down into his heated pools of hazel. Galadriel watched as he kissed her palm this time, not breaking their shared gaze, and his tongue joined his lips to meet her flesh. The she-elf gasped, and Sauron smiled, before he vanished like he was never there.

Footsteps drew near.

The now familiar stalk of the father of the orcs.

Adar had returned.

But he would not find all of Galadriel waiting for him.

For Sauron had taken her heart.

[nameless-ken]

Between Us and the Dark - Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part One

I've had lots of different thoughts lately and needed to get this one out there. I think it might be a short series!

Please comment & reblog <3

Word count: 4.5k

The usual heat of the California sun beats down on you, but it doesn’t faze you. You’ve grown used to it, the warmth on your skin almost a comfort as you walk down the familiar path to your dad’s auto shop. The smell of oil and gasoline greets you before you even reach the door, a sharp, earthy scent that’s become part of your life. You can hear the hum of engines in the shop bay, the rhythmic clanging of tools striking metal in a symphony that’s as routine as breathing.

You smile as you approach the door, holding it open for an older couple leaving the shop. They thank you warmly, their smiles lighting up their tired faces. You return the gesture, gripping the paper bag in your hand tighter to make sure it doesn’t slip. It’s become a habit, one you can’t quite let go of.

Inside, the shop is a blend of grease-stained work uniforms, car manuals, and the ever-present scent of motor oil. Your eyes immediately fall on your dad behind the front counter, scribbling something in his worn leather notebook. The same notebook he’s kept for as long as you can remember. His brow furrows in concentration, but the moment he sees you, his face brightens.

“There’s my favorite daughter!” he calls out, a grin stretching across his weathered face.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in his voice never fails to lift your spirits. “I’m your only daughter, but thanks for the honor,” you say, stepping closer to the counter and passing him the brown paper bag. “Here’s lunch.”

“You know,” he starts, opening the bag and peeking inside, “I keep telling you, you don’t have to bring me lunch every day.”

“I know, but Mom always did, so I thought I’d keep up the tradition.” Your smile wavers just a little, sadness seeping into your voice. It’s a subtle shift, but your dad notices.

“She’d be proud of you,” he says softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. The weight of his touch is reassuring, familiar. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, the noisy shop around you seems to fall away.

“Same to you,” you say, patting his hand as you both take a beat, a quiet tribute to the one who should still be here.

After a pause, you clear your throat and offer, “I was thinking maybe we could order pizza tonight and watch Ghostbusters, you know, like we used to.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Y/N, you’re twenty-one. You should be out with friends, raging, bar hopping, staying out until three in the morning, not sitting here with an old man like me.”

You follow him as he walks towards his office, leaning against the doorframe as he sits at his cluttered desk. “Maybe I don’t want to do all that stuff. I like our weekly dinners and movie nights.”

He takes a bite of the sandwich you brought him and looks up at you with a mix of affection and concern. “I understand, sweetheart, but you can’t hide away from life forever. Trust me, you’ll regret it. And… she wouldn’t want this for you.”

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. Your mom had always been the one pushing you towards your dreams, always talking about what your future could be. She’d been so excited to help you look at colleges, to plan for what came next. But then, in a blink, everything changed. A normal day, a routine drive to bring your dad lunch, and she was gone. A collision. A wreckage you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Your dad never says it directly, but you know he hates that you keep bringing him lunch, just like she used to. It’s a shadow you both live under, even if you don’t talk about it often.

Before you can respond, the sound of a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Hey, boss. We got an issue with the engine on the Mustang, and I’m not sure what’s up with it.”

You turn, slightly startled, and your breath catches in your throat. Standing a few feet away is possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. His curly, sandy-blonde hair falls messily over his forehead, his strong jaw covered in a light scruff. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built, with grease smudged across his muscular arms and the collar of his work shirt. His striking blue eyes flicker toward you for the briefest moment before he looks back at your dad.

Suddenly, the air feels a little thicker, and the usual warmth of the shop becomes stifling.

“I’ll check it out after lunch,” your dad responds casually, glancing between you and the man. “Oh, Y/N, this is our new hire, Billy. Billy, this is my daughter—Y/N.”

For a moment, Billy’s eyes meet yours, and something unreadable flickers behind them. He’s stoic, almost detached, but there’s something intense about the way he looks at you, even if it’s just for a split second. He gives a quick nod, muttering a brief, “Nice to meet you,” before turning back to the shop floor.

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly shake it off, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” you manage, though your voice feels oddly small.

As Billy disappears back into the garage, the clanging of tools picks up again, but you’re still stuck in that moment, staring at the spot where he just stood.

Your dad chuckles, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks. “Be careful with that one,” he says. “He’s got a lot going on.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” you reply, more to yourself than to him, already feeling your curiosity about Billy stirring, though you can’t quite place why. There’s something about him that pulls at you—a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

And you’ve never been one to shy away from curiosity.

You glance at your dad’s office phone, your thoughts drifting to his words. You’ve never been much of a drinker or partier, but maybe, just this once, stepping out of your comfort zone wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Your fingers hover over the phone, a moment of hesitation gripping you before you pick it up and dial.

After a few rings, your best friend answers. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, feeling a spark of excitement mix with nerves. “Call the girls. We’re going out tonight.”

You hang up the phone with a mixture of anticipation and nervous energy thrumming in your chest. Tonight will be different. As you move toward the door to leave the auto shop, your hand on the doorknob, you pause when you overhear two workers talking in hushed voices just outside the office.

“I’m telling you, no one really knows why he moved here,” one of them says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“From Indiana, right? Hawkins, I think it was called,” the other one responds, sounding skeptical. “Strange though… he showed up out of nowhere, didn’t talk much about it.”

“Yeah, kinda makes you wonder what he’s running from.”

You frown, straining to hear more, but the workers move further away, their voices fading. Indiana? Hawkins? The mention of Billy catches your attention, and suddenly, his quiet demeanor and distant gaze feel more than just personality quirks. It feels like he’s hiding something. Questions swirl in your mind, and you can’t shake the unease that settles over you.

Just as you’re about to leave, you catch sight of Billy through the garage’s wide door. He’s standing by a vintage Camaro, focused intently on the engine in front of him. For a moment, you watch him, captivated by how effortlessly he works—his hands moving with practiced precision as he tightens a bolt.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way he moves, but it’s more than just his skill that keeps you watching. It’s the way his shoulders tense, the slight furrow in his brow. Even when he’s alone, he seems guarded, as if he’s carrying something heavy inside. You can’t help but wonder what it is.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes from the other side of the garage—a dropped tool, maybe. Billy flinches, his body jerking in a way that’s too sharp, too instinctive for someone just surprised by a noise. For a split second, his face changes. His usually controlled expression slips, revealing something raw and haunted beneath the surface. His eyes dart around the shop as though expecting some unseen threat. Then, just as quickly, the mask is back, his jaw tightening as he returns to the car, his focus seemingly restored.

But you saw it.

Your heart races a little faster as you stand frozen in place, wondering what could have shaken him like that. It wasn’t the reaction of someone merely startled—it was the reaction of someone who’s been through something. Something bad.

You swallow hard, the overheard whispers of his past mixing with the image of that brief, vulnerable moment. There’s more to Billy than the quiet mechanic who keeps his distance. Much more. And suddenly, you’re not sure whether you’re intrigued or unsettled by it.

Before you can think too much, Billy’s eyes flicker up and meet yours. For a moment, you think he might have caught you staring. His gaze is unreadable, but there’s a tension in the air that makes you shift uncomfortably.

You quickly turn, pulling the door open, your pulse still racing as you step into the afternoon sun. The warmth that once felt comforting now seems stifling, and as you walk away, the questions linger in your mind, heavier than before.

Who is Billy really? And what exactly is he hiding?

The bar is alive with energy the moment you walk in. Dim lighting casts a warm glow over the crowded space, with low-hanging bulbs swaying slightly as the door swings shut behind you and your friends. A jukebox in the corner hums out classic rock—The Eagles, maybe Fleetwood Mac—songs everyone can sing along to after a few too many drinks. The scent of spilled beer and fried food lingers in the air, blending with the constant murmur of conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from groups huddled around tables.

Your friends lead the way, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of locals who’ve been here more times than they can count. They head toward a high-top table near the back, just close enough to the bar to keep the drinks flowing, but far enough from the dance floor to avoid the inevitable chaos of drunken swaying. You slide into your seat, the polished wood cool against your hands as you try to settle into the night’s atmosphere.

But something feels off. The noise, the clinking glasses, the shouts for another round—it all seems distant, like you’re watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. You force a smile, laughing at one of your friend’s jokes, but your mind keeps wandering back to earlier that day.

Billy.

You hadn’t been able to shake the image of him—his tense posture, the way he flinched when that loud noise echoed through the auto shop. And the whispering... The workers had been vague, but the mention of Indiana and Hawkins kept circling in your thoughts. What was Billy running from? Why did he seem so… haunted?

“You alright, Y/N?” one of your friends asks, her voice cutting through your haze. You blink, realizing you’ve been staring down at your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass absently.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” You force another smile, trying to push the day’s thoughts aside.

“Sure, that’s why you’ve been spacing out all night,” your best friend teases with a knowing grin. “Bet I can guess what—or who—you’re thinking about.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the flush creeping up your neck. “It’s nothing, really. Just… something weird happened at the shop today.”

“Oh no, here we go.” Another friend leans in dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “Spill it.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s nothing big. I just… overheard some of the guys talking about Billy.”

“Billy?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “The hot new guy who works for your dad?”

You nod, glancing around the table, feeling their eyes on you. "Yeah, they said something about him moving here from Indiana, but no one really knows why he left. And then, today, he kind of… flinched when something loud dropped in the garage. It was like he was spooked, you know? Like something was really bothering him."

There’s a pause before your friends burst out laughing, not in a mean way, but in that teasing tone they always use when they think you’re overthinking things.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You’re making it sound like he’s hiding from the mafia or something,” one of them chuckles, taking a sip of her drink.

“Or maybe he’s just shy,” your best friend adds, winking. “He is ridiculously good-looking. Who wouldn’t flinch under that kind of attention?”

You can’t help but laugh along, but inside, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not just the attraction that’s eating at you—it’s something deeper. 

“You know what?” your best friend interrupts your thoughts again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You need to relax. Let Billy be mysterious and brooding. Tonight, we’re here to have fun. No more deep thoughts—just drinks and dancing. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, though your mind is still partly elsewhere. You’re trying to shake off the tension as the waitress brings another round, and your friends dive headfirst into lighthearted banter. But as you glance around the bar, your heart skips when you spot a familiar figure sitting alone in the far corner.

Billy.

He’s at a small table by himself, his broad shoulders hunched over a glass of whiskey, one hand resting lightly on the rim as he stares into the amber liquid. He looks as out of place as you feel—detached from the noise and energy surrounding him, lost in his own thoughts. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making him appear even more guarded, more unreachable.

“Earth to Y/N,” your best friend sings, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Are you seriously zoning out again?”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Billy, but not before your friends follow your line of sight.

“Oh my God,” one of them gasps. “Is that Billy?”

Your heart races, and you nod, feeling exposed under their playful stares.

“Looks like fate,” your best friend says with a mischievous grin. “This is your moment, girl. Go talk to him.”

“What? No. No way,” you protest, shaking your head quickly. “I can’t just walk over there.”

“Why not?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like he’s going to bite. Besides, you’ve been thinking about him all night, right? Now’s your chance.”

You glance over at Billy again, and your pulse quickens. Part of you wants to approach him, to figure out what it is about him that’s pulling you in, but the other part of you is nervous. What if you’re reading too much into this? What if he shuts you down?

“Come on, Y/N,” another friend chimes in. “We dare you. Break the ice.”

You look at your friends, all of them grinning, eager to see how this plays out. The teasing pushes you, but underneath their laughter is a genuine push for you to step out of your comfort zone, to live a little like your dad suggested.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you down the rest of your drink, take a deep breath, and slide out of the booth. “Alright, I’ll do it,” you mutter, heart pounding as you take the first step toward Billy.

Your friends cheer behind you as you weave through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last as you approach his table. And then, you’re standing in front of him. He looks up, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours. For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, maybe even curiosity—but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. His expression remains guarded, a wall firmly in place between the two of you. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t dismiss you either. He just watches you, as if silently weighing whether to let you in or push you away.

The tension between you stretches like a rubber band pulled tight, and for a second, you consider turning around, making up some excuse to leave. But then you remember the way he flinched at the auto shop, that vulnerable moment when no one else was watching. Something inside you pushes forward, refusing to be intimidated.

“Hi Billy,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can feel the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker over you, then back down to his drink. For a second, you think he’s going to say no, but then he shifts in his seat, gesturing subtly to the empty chair across from him. You take it as a sign and slide into the seat, your heart pounding.

You clear your throat, feeling the weight of his silence pressing in on you. “I’m Y/N,” you say, even though you know he already knows your name. It feels strange, but you say it anyway, hoping it’ll break the ice. “We’ve, uh, kind of met already, I guess. At the shop.”

Billy nods slightly, barely acknowledging the obvious. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “I remember.”

Another stretch of silence settles between you, awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. There’s something about his presence that’s heavy, but it doesn’t repel you—it draws you in. You grip the edge of the table.

“So,” you start, leaning in just a little, trying to sound more casual than you feel, “my friends dared me to come talk to you.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of surprise breaking through his guarded expression. “Dared you?” There’s a slight edge of humor in his voice, though it’s barely noticeable.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, grateful for any response. “I guess they think you’re a bit of a mystery.”

His gaze sharpens for a split second before he looks away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. The humor fades as quickly as it appeared, and you suddenly feel like you’ve touched on something sensitive. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you add quickly, trying to recover from the awkwardness. “I just thought I’d come over, you know, because… you don’t exactly look like you’re having the time of your life over here.”

Billy’s lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough to give you hope that you haven’t completely blown it. He shifts in his seat again, his eyes flicking back to yours for a brief moment. “Bars aren’t really my thing,” he admits, his voice low, barely above a murmur.

You nod, feeling a little more at ease now that he’s actually engaging. “Yeah, I get that. I’m not much of a drinker either.” You glance around the room, the lively noise of the bar in sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that seems to surround your conversation. “But, hey, sometimes it’s good to just… get out, you know?”

Billy gives a noncommittal shrug, his eyes distant again, as if he’s only half here. You can’t shake the feeling that something is weighing on him, something heavy, and you want to ask more, but you don’t want to push too hard too soon. Instead, you decide to keep things light, hoping it’ll coax him out of whatever shell he’s hiding in.

“So, are you always this mysterious, or do you save that for work?” you tease lightly, offering him a small smile.

For the first time, Billy’s gaze softens just a little, his expression almost amused. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”

“Well,” you say, leaning back in your chair, “you haven’t exactly been the chattiest guy since you started working for my dad. Not that I’m judging or anything—it’s just…” You hesitate, then add, “I guess I’m curious. I mean, you kind of keep to yourself.”

Billy looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out your angle. Then, finally, he lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “There’s not much to tell,” he says, though you can tell by his tone that there’s more beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” you reply softly, your curiosity growing. “Sometimes the quiet ones have the most interesting stories.”

Billy doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink, his eyes still distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more contemplative. “Maybe,” he says, barely audible above the noise of the bar. “But not all stories are meant to be told.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of what to say. There’s a heaviness to his statement, a sense of pain or regret that he’s not ready to share. You can feel it in the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers tighten around his glass. He’s closed off again, retreating behind his walls.

“Everyone’s got their stuff, right?”

Billy doesn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of something crosses his face—acknowledgment, maybe even understanding. Billy’s eyes remain fixed on his drink for a moment longer, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass, as if he’s contemplating something. Finally, he glances up, locking eyes with you again. There’s a brief pause, and you wonder if maybe he’s going to say something more, maybe open up just a little.

But instead, he shifts in his seat, straightening up slightly. “If this isn’t your type of place, why’d you come out?” he observes, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

You laugh softly, shrugging. “According to everyone, I’m supposed to be having more fun in life.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, looking around at the chaos of the bar before his gaze settles back on you. “And this is your idea of fun?”

“Well,” you smile, glancing back toward your friends, who are huddled together in a corner booth, laughing and sipping their drinks. “My friends mean well. I guess they just want me to let loose, stop overthinking everything.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching you closely, trying to read between the lines. 

“What are you overthinking?” he asks quietly, surprising you with the directness of his question.

You blink, taken aback by his unexpected interest. You weren’t expecting him to ask, let alone seem genuinely curious. You glance down at your hands, feeling a little exposed but somehow comfortable enough to answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit, letting out a small sigh. “Everything, I guess. My mom died a few years ago, and it’s been… hard. I haven’t really figured out how to move forward. I’ve been helping my dad at the shop and just… keeping things steady, I guess. It’s like I’m stuck.”

Billy’s gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of your mom, his blue eyes clouding with something darker, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his expression unreadable.

“I know my dad means well,” you continue, your voice softer now, “but he wants me to get out more, live my life, you know? It’s just… hard. Every time I think about what I should be doing, I feel guilty. Like I’m leaving him and my mom behind.”

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and suddenly, you realize how much you’ve said. You glance at Billy, worried you’ve overshared, but he’s still watching you closely.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but this time, it feels different. More charged, like you’ve opened a door that wasn’t meant to be opened. Billy shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening just slightly, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to brush it off or change the subject.

But then he surprises you.

“I get it,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something raw in his gaze, something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Losing someone… it messes with you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. It’s the most vulnerable he’s been since you sat down, and it catches you off guard. There’s something in the way he says it—like he knows exactly what that kind of loss feels like.

You study his face, noticing the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker with something deeper, something he’s clearly not willing to talk about just yet. But it’s there, hidden beneath the surface.

“I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” you say softly, breaking the tension with a small, apologetic smile.

Billy shakes his head, his expression softening just a little. “It’s fine. Sometimes… it’s easier to talk to someone who can understand.”

You nod, feeling a strange connection forming between the two of you, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who Billy really is. There’s still so much you don’t know, so much he’s clearly keeping hidden, but for the first time, you feel like you’ve glimpsed a piece of the real him. The guy behind the walls.

The noise of the bar seems to fade away for a moment, the world shrinking down to just the two of you at this small table, surrounded by the chaos of laughter and music. You feel the weight of his gaze on you.

Before you can say anything more, Billy’s eyes flick toward the door, and his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as if he’s just spotted something—or someone—that makes him uneasy.

You follow his gaze, but all you see is a group of rowdy guys stumbling through the door, shouting and laughing as they head toward the bar. Nothing unusual, just another group of late-night partiers. But Billy seems… on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billy shakes his head, standing up abruptly. “I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his voice tight.

You stand up too, confusion swirling in your chest. “Billy, wait—”

But he’s already moving toward the exit, his steps quick and deliberate. You watch him push through the crowd, disappearing into the night before you can stop him.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in place, trying to make sense of what just happened. The bar feels louder now, the noise crashing back into your senses as the door swings shut behind him. You’re left standing by the table, your heart racing, questions swirling in your mind.

As you glance toward the door again, a knot of unease tightens in your chest. Whatever just spooked Billy—it wasn’t something casual. It was personal. And whatever it was, it’s clear that Billy’s past, the one you’ve been so curious about, isn’t as far behind him as he’d like to pretend.

You feel it now—an undeniable pull toward him. Whatever darkness he’s running from, whatever secret he’s keeping… you can’t shake the feeling that you’re about to be pulled into it too.

Comment to be added to the tag list for this story!

[ghost-hotel]

The Fast and the Furious + Jenny Holzer

[nottoonedin]

Can't function properly at the moment, currently thinking about Never The Muse by Madilyn Mei.. and coincidentally Ivan Alien Stage..

[potatobugz]

"tiso gets rescued after his loss at the colosseum of fools and recovers from his injuries" type au but cloth is the one who finds him. i think they'd be buddies

[clowningaroundmars]

i keep thinking about how in 1610 miles was p much haunted and followed by the number 42 (thanks to that one tumblr post, yknow the one) after his spider bite.

the bus seating capacity, the numbers that fell off into the streets after miles crashed into them, all those tiny lil details that followed him throughout his journey to becoming Spiderman

and i also wonder if miles42 was also haunted by numbers like 1610. maybe his neighbor down the block's address is 1610. maybe the dorm room capacity at visions is 161. maybe he always gets up at 6:10 am to get ready for the day....

anyways

*breaks down crying*

[always-a-joyful-note]

I don't think words can express how I absolutely love it when Riku yells at Tenn about something but also how much pain and suffering that gives me

[vampyretaemin]

literally all of the imagery taemin has used for guilty has been destruction and madness. the blackened wings and falling feathers and flames at metamorph. the asylum with cameras and bars and grasping hands in that one mnet stage. the ruined, burning house at the ngla performance. he has not once performed this song with the sole intention of being sexy and provocative. yes, the dance is sexy but thats not the whole point. this is not a Good song. it is about giving into temptation and being destroyed for it. it is about the horror of trusting others, of having that trust used against you and destroying you. being manipulated and ruined. playing this game of ruining your life, just for fun, and theres nothing you can do about it. and idk i am a little insane about it

[onlyfangz]

actually no i want to talk about parallels in oppression more. obviously different kinds of oppressions arent always going to be 1:1, but more often than not when you speak to other marginalised people who dont share all of your marginalisations, you will find common ground more often than not.

ive had black people connect with me over feeling pressured to use a more socially acceptable accent when not in my lower class neighbourhood, ive had south east asian people connect with me over my transness and looking noticeably Other in public, ive had people with speech impediments connect with my ADHD and lack of ability to articulate myself when overstimulated, ive had deaf people connect with my APD and the social anxiety that comes along with not understanding whats being said to you, ive had brown and eastern european immigrants connect with my queerness and feeling unwelcome in public spaces.

we can sit and bellyache all day about """them""" not """getting it""" but if you actually talk to regular every day people, you realise, shock, horror, "outsiders" of your community are people too, and bigotry often isnt clever or unqiue between communities. we are so obsessed with identity politics nowadays, and we clutch our pearls at the mere thought of two people of different marginalisations being able to relate to each other, and it leads to such a paranoia about being the perfect ally to every group youre not in, instead of just mucking down the shit together. wtf happened to "ill scratch your back and you scratch mine?" at the end of the day, the black man gunned down by the police isnt any less dead than the trans person murdered by their one night stand isnt any less dead than the disabled person "mercy killed" by their "caregiver" isnt any less dead than the chinese person killed over covid panic isnt any less dead than the poor man whos government let them die in the gutter isnt any less dead than the asylum seeker who was forced to drown in the sea.

do you understand?

[s1x-foot-deep]

anyways on a nicer note i need my vision heard about kieran and molly being friends ok ??? they're both outcast in the gang & are at least under the impression everyone there hates them. they're both basically confined to camp. and even though they couldnt be more different theyre still the same and maybe, if they'd just talked to each other, befriended one another, they wouldnt feel so alone there. do u understand . do u get me