#next day i got it back and i was like **so that was fucking wrong**

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?” 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[itneverendshere]

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

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

death by a thousand cuts - r.c

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

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

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

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

Rafe freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I’m not doing this again.” 

“Rafe—”

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

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

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

Ward stands up now. “Watch your mouth.”

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

“That’s enough, Rafe.”

But he's not done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach drops. Instantly.

“You’re sure?”

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

But you know better.

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

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

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

“What? Why’s that such a big deal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he come to you?

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

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

“I need to find Rafe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something big. 

Why didn’t he tell you?

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

This is worse.

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

You slam your fist against the steering wheel, frustrated.

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

He’s here, and he didn’t come to you.

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

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

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

He looks like a ghost.

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

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

“W-What?”

“Baby, look at you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey now—"

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

It pushes something inside you.

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

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

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

“I didn’t say that—”

“E-everyon leaves right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he stop you?

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

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

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafe doesn’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss him. God, you miss him.

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

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

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

That was a week ago.

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

Because this can’t possibly end this way. 

He’s the love of your life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood turns ice cold.

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there’s nothing. Just silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Lucky. 

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

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

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

You feel like you're going to be sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m scared,” Sarah admits. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t deserve you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[papaya-twinks]

mauve - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Swearing, angst, crash, sexism, banter, insulting(?)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Taglist: @cheriiepies @jan1on @sagestack @fall-bambi @meglouise00 @eclipsedcherry @suzzie105 @rebelatbay @fly-me-away @cabbyhabs @djoenthusiast @georgeparisole @justcharlotte @cutieln4 @amz824 @coff33andb00ks @yoruse @neferaskingdom

A/N - I’m so happy y’all like it! Remember, message in the comments if you wanna be on the tag list! Also, remember, at this stage of the fic, Lando has 0 wins!

other parts 💜💜

Thankfully for both you and Lando, he didn’t have to see your face for the next few days, not until pre-season testing anyways. You looked great in your suit, the Williams suited you so well, you drove impeccably, your car nowhere as slow as it had been the year before, and Alex had been a healthy 15th.

Hey, could’ve been worse. As you got into your car, your helmet a sweet purple with oil splashes along the side, your number emblazoned on the top, you readied yourself for your first ever drive as part of the Formula One World Championship. Fuck.

You turned sharply right, ready to warm your tyres, checking your mirror and responding to radio messages. “So, Lando’s done a 28.8 for sector one, that’s a 28.8, Y/N,” your engineer said you responded with a simple ‘copy’.

Once your tyres were up and ready you began your lap, sliding through the corners with just the right amount of balance, your concentration unwavering, the places you put the car just perfect. Yes, it was just practise, but it seemed like you’d been doing it for years.

And then, as you began your next lap, heading down the main straight, you caught a flash of orange in your rear-view mirrors, the almost blindingly neon helmet of Lando Norris shimmering behind you. What the fuck was he doing?

No one ever raced during pre-season testing. It was testing. After all. But you were on a hot lap, and you weren’t one to back down, which greatly surprise Lando, as he saw you continue, not letting off a single second. Two could play at that game.

He dove down the inside, his wheel tapping into the side of yours, sending your car onto the rumble strip, your body bouncing in the car. “What’s he playing at?!” you shrieked into the radio. “We’re on it, Y/N,” your engineer reassured.

“So, uh, Y/N, what do you make of the situation with Lando on track?” one of the reporters asked, as you lifted your microphone. You let out a breath of air, a mix of a scoff and sigh as you shrugged. “I’m not responsible nor do I know what he was thinking,” you said simply.

“Maybe if she can look. She’d have seen me,” Lando said, a harsh, hostile laugh on his lips as he rolled his eyes, “this sport would be better off without people who can’t see others on track,”. You didn’t say anything, blinking for a second.

“If you want a change of scenery, F1 Academy’s always open,” you said, moving the straw of your drink to your lips to hide the smug smirk on your lips as you pulled your Williams cap down low on your forehead, your hair smooth, albeit sweaty.

And Lando? He was taken aback. The new girl had bite, huh? Well, so did he. He was Lando fucking Norris after all, not some push over. But neither were you, it supposed. Lando didn’t say anything, he wasn’t one to stroke the fire when he knew how much of a field day the media would have with it.

But that didn’t mean he’d let you get away with it, oh no. He’d make you pay. And pay for it you would, tenfold for what you had done. How you’d insulted him. To Lando, you’d have been a better grid girl than a driver.

You didn’t say anything as you sat in your motor home, now changing into a comfy pair of sweats and a t-shirt, the cold air of a February in Bahrain filing in through your window. You didn’t understand why Lando was even being such a jerk to you.

You hadn’t done anything wrong, you’d only given him what he’d given you first. But if it was gonna be like that, then fine. You could dish it out and if Lando wasn’t okay to take it, so be it. Anyways, testing? It had gone reasonably well, but almost as if to add salt to the wound, mclaren were looking stronger than usual.

Lando would have a field day with that one.

It was half-refreshing to come out of your second FP1 session to see that there were, fortunately, some people who did think Lando was being mean to you. Whilst at the same time, there were people who shipped you? What the hell? That would never happen. And you only did come 13th, and in a car as slow as Williams? That was an achievement and a half.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 26

a/n: i'm so glad you're all still here with me after that long break. thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. ahhhh i'm getting so nervous for you all to read the next few chapters! alright, fuck it, here we goooo!

[ read chapter 25 here ]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Tears and Relapsing

The following morning you untangle yourself from Hyunjin and head straight to the bathroom to wash up. You throw on a pair of black jeans, combat boots and your school hoodie before heading to campus with Jeongin and Allie. You try your hardest to focus on whatever it is your teacher is droning on about, but your thoughts continually shift back to seeing Chan later and having ‘The Talk’.

You consider delaying the inevitable, you could probably talk Jeongin and Allie into making a pit stop on the way back like you did with Changbin and Seungmin what feels like years ago. You know that’s not the right move in this situation, though.

After class, you make it back to the house—walking in like a woman on a mission. You have to rip the band aid off now. Felix lets you know Chan is in the workout room, and that’s exactly where you find him. The house is equipped with two garages—one double, one single. The singular garage is walled off from the larger one and filled with all sorts of workout equipment—a treadmill, power rack, bench press, stationary bike and various kettlebells and weights.

Chan is seated on the bench press, sitting up at an angle and facing the mirror across from him. He turns to you when you enter, and you feel the familiar, heavy thumping of your heart behind your chest as you approach him.

“How was class?” he asks with a smile.

He seems to be in good spirits, at least. However, that doesn’t seem like a good thing knowing what you’ve come here to say to him. You remain hopeful that you can handle this delicately and he will understand where you’re coming from.

“I don’t think I retained much, if I’m being honest,” you reply.

You look around the room for a place to sit, but there aren’t any chairs. Seeing your dilemma, Chan stands from the bench and walks towards you. The sight of him walking to you causes a lapse in your regularly scheduled breathing. He’s clad in a pair of gym shorts and a black muscle shirt, leaving his shoulders, biceps and forearms on full display. His veins are more prominent than normal—accompanied by a slight gleam of sweat covering his exposed skin—showing he has been putting the equipment to use.

When he’s close enough, he puts his hands on your waist and delicately guides you towards the bench. You feel the instinctual pull to touch him, too. To grab him, wrap your arms around him and pull his mouth to yours. But you refrain.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You pull your backpack off, hugging it to your chest and sit sideways on the bench. Chan takes a seat on the treadmill across from you with his legs outstretched in front of him.

“I’m sorry about the other day, I was—” you begin.

“It’s okay,” he interjects, shaking his head.

“No. It’s not,” you proceed. “You were there to prove the exact things I said to be wrong...in hindsight I could have handled it so differently. I am sorry for what I said.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, after everything…but I get it.”

You nod, hoping he really does.

“I never got to properly say it either, so—thank you. For the rose,” you say, opening your backpack in your lap and digging out the card inside. “…and this.”

You hold up the card, the word written on it is facing him. His eyes don’t even acknowledge it, they’re focused on you instead. He arches an eyebrow, though, seeing you take it out of your bag. Perhaps surprised, or pleased, to know you’ve kept it close since he gave it to you.

“This is fucking heavy, Chan,” you say when you realize he isn’t going to speak first.

He looks down at the ground in front of him, tearing his gaze away from you for the first time. He remains completely still; the only sign of movement is when he blinks.

“It’s true, though,” he says softly.

“Why? Why me? Why all of a sudden? You tell me I have to be the one to stop this, to stop letting you ruin me, and now this?”

“It’s not all of a sudden…I don’t think,” he contemplates. “I’ve just given up trying to fight against it now.”

“Do you realize what you’re asking me, though?” you place the card back in your backpack. “To let you throw away your life for me?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing…”

“It is.”

His face contorts at that, offended.

“I mean, the sentiment is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” you say with your hands up. “But the actual thought of it is awful. I could never let you do that. What happens if we don’t work out when the school year is over? We have to be realistic about this.”

Perhaps Changbin should give him a lecture on simulacrum, too. Maybe that would help get him to see through the lust filled haze that consumes the room when it’s just the two of you.

“That wouldn’t happen,” he says incredulously, finally looking into your eyes again.

You take a deep breath. You want to appreciate his optimism. You want to smile at his words, to tell him you agree. You can’t do either, though. You can’t encourage this behavior. For his sake, whether he realizes it or not. There’s a contract in place that clearly outlines you are forbidden from being with him when this is over. Letting him choose you, means letting him throw away everything else.  

He stands from the treadmill and approaches you again.

“Do you think I would let it?” He asks, stopping in front of the bench. His eyes are still locked on yours as he places his hands on your knees, slowly spreading them apart so he can step between them. “I’d make you so happy, y/n.”

His russet brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, as he speaks. That, combined with his hands on you, is almost enough to unravel your restraint.

You gently remove his hands from your knees and shake your head, looking down at the ground.

“I can’t.”

He hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up.

“You could.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes now. He means this wholeheartedly. It should feel more assuring to hear, but it leaves you feeling terrified. You’ve never had anyone care about you this way or shower you with such devout proclamations.

“I won’t, Chan,” you shake your head again, keeping your eyes on him this time. He needs to know you mean it.

His eyebrows come together as his lips turn down ever so slightly. It’s clear he’s not used to rejection, least of all from you. He drops his hand from your chin and takes a small step back.

“Okay,” he gives you a curt nod.

You watch him carefully as he continues to retreat from you.

“Just ‘okay’?” you repeat. “You know I care about you, that’s not what I’m saying here. It’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

“This is your decision to make, and you’ve made it,” he says, turning his back to you and walking to the treadmill.

He steps onto the treadmill, starts tapping the buttons until it turns on, and begins to lightly jog. You stand from the bench and put your backpack over your shoulder, feeling flabbergasted that he would just abruptly end the conversation like this.

You walk along the side of the treadmill and stop next to him.

His words and behavior feel unfair, but after the actions he’s taken that are so on par with the man you know he can be, you understand that this might feel like a rejection. He has to understand why you’d make this choice, though, right? Even if he can’t see it now, he has to eventually.

“I’ll text you when dinner is ready?” you ask, opting not to push the subject any further.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His tone is drier than the Sahara. Still, you offer him a small smile before turning away and exiting the room.

You sit between Hyunjin and Chan during dinner. He seems okay, but doesn’t say much to you directly other than asking you to pass the condiments. When he’s doing eating, he heads straight down to the basement with a few of the other members. You keep your composure as you clear the table, not wanting to jump to conclusions or take deep offense to his actions. You remind yourself that he just may need some time to think things over, like you did.

You help the girls clean the kitchen, chiming in on their conversation occasionally but otherwise remain quiet. You shower in his room, as normal, then climb into his bed. You try wait up for him, but end up dozing off.

When you wake up the next morning, Chan isn’t lying next to you. You must have stayed up til nearly midnight and he never showed. You try to think if he came to bed at any point during the night but can’t recall if he did or not. Part of you knows you’d remember, the other part of you wants to remain in denial that he would avoid you to such an extent. And where is he this morning, even?

He does have a morning class today. Perhaps he just went in early. Perhaps not.

You push back the blankets and get dressed before going down to the kitchen to make breakfast. You make a large pan of scrambled eggs and fry up some bacon for the others. You attend your afternoon class, and when you make it back home, you have to go straight to the den. Rhiannon and Charlotte are already inside, covered in blankets and watching something on the TV.

“Do you want us to turn it off?” Rhiannon asks.

“No, you guys are fine,” you tell her, dropping your backpack to the floor as you sit at your desk. You pop your headphones on and focus on your assignment.

Halfway through, your phone buzzes.

It’s Chan.

Come upstairs.

You save the document you’re working on without hesitation and make your way to his room. You want the chance to speak to him again, to check in and see where his head is at. You have to get him to see that you’re doing this for him, not to hurt him. Hopefully he’s given it some more thought on his own.

The door to his room is open when you get there. You enter the room and close it behind you.

“Chan?” you call out when you don’t immediately see him.

He saunters out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair whilst fully naked. The sight does startle you, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Your eyes do betray you, though, flickering down to his exposed cock, then back up to his face.  

He tosses the towel onto his bed as he walks towards you without saying a word. He cups your face with his right hand, stroking your cheek tenderly before bringing you closer. Maybe he wants to show you that he still cares. So, you let him.

His lips meet yours and you let out a soft sigh.

Yes. I’ve missed you, too. You convey as you kiss him back.

He places one hand on your waist, pulling you with him as he walks back towards the bed.

“Take your pants off,” he instructs.

You stare at him for a moment, recognizing the flat demand in his tone. You’ve not heard that in a while.

“Chan, can we—”

“Off.”

Your hands are already working on the button and zipper of your jeans as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening. You slide your pants off, followed by your underwear as you assume that would be his next command if you don’t. You sit on the bed and slide back, watching as he crawls onto it, advancing towards you. You try to interpret what he’s thinking from his eyes.

You feel a sliver of something in you crack as you realize there’s nothing there. He’s looking at you, yes, but it doesn’t feel like he sees you.

Once he’s hovering over you, his mouth is on yours again. You’re kissing him back, wanting to give him whatever reassurance you can, to fix the damage you may have done to not only him, but yourself as well.

“You still want me, yeah?” he asks, pulling away from you.

You cup his face in your hands, staring into his hardened eyes, pleading with them to see you.

“Of course I do,” you tell him.

You attempt to bring his mouth to yours again, but he pulls back. In one swift motion he flips you over so you’re on all fours. You look over your shoulder to see him spitting in his hand before cupping your pussy with it. He rubs you, in the way he knows that you like, slipping his fingers inside briefly.

He grabs his cock and lines it up with your opening and thrusts forward, hard and deep, with no warning. You let out a startled gasp and drop your head. You can’t deny how good it feels to have him inside of you again, regardless of the thick tension hanging in the air.

He says nothing else as he continues to slam into you, gripping your hips, smacking your ass, grunting out his apparent frustrations. And you let him have it, let him have you, let him take it out on you.

You reach your hand down between your legs to rub your clit. He grabs a hold of your arm to stop you, bending it slightly and holding it hostage against your back.

You moan as he fucks and restrains you. Unable to deny how amazing it feels. And you want more. You always want more.

“Chan, please,” you beg. “I want to come.”

“No,” he growls.

He releases your arm and places both hands on your hips, pulling you against him with wild force, causing you to scream out.

“Please?”

“No.”

You know this is what he likes—and it’s not as if you’ve lost trust in him. Perhaps this is a twisted form of punishment. You hate that you’ve hurt him. Maybe this is how you can make it up to him. Maybe he just needs to get this out.

His pace quickens and he suddenly pulls his cock out of you. In seconds you feel his warm come coating your back as he groans through his release.

When he’s done, he grabs the towel he tossed on the bed earlier and wipes your back clean. You collapse onto the bed, feeling unsatisfied at your orgasm denial. Your clit makes contact with the fabric of the sheets and your body instinctively starts to move against it to create more friction. You feel his palm connect with your ass forcefully and whimper at the pain, immediately halting your movements.

He slides off the bed and retreats to his dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and slipping them on. He then takes out a pair of shorts and dons them, too, followed by a shirt.

“You can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

He walks to the door and exits without saying anything else as you choke back a sob. He hasn’t spoken to you this way in months. You almost managed to forget how physically painful it feels.

On Wednesday morning, you’re up with the sunrise. You hardly slept through the night; so much tossing and turning and just staring up into the darkness. Anytime that you actually fell asleep, you woke up soon after with your brain already in the middle of an anxiety-stricken thought. And the cycle repeated itself again and again.

You didn’t expect Chan to jump up and down with joy at your response to his confession, however you also didn’t expect him to retreat so far back into his shell. He somehow feels further than he even was in the beginning. How can he so abruptly go back to treating you this way? Like an object.

Your initial instinct is to make excuses for him. He’s putting his walls up in self-defense, to protect himself from the pain that you’ve caused. But, no...you can’t reason away his behavior.

At least not while maintaining your own sanity. And you need to start prioritizing that, if you intend to leave this house unscathed. As much as you care for everyone here and will be saddened to leave them in a few months, you must put yourself first. You won’t have any of them to lean on when this is over.

Chan’s alarm for his morning class blares through the room and you sit up in bed, watching as his hand shoots out from under his blanket to silence it. He grumbles and stretches before throwing the blanket off. He lets out a long sigh, swings his legs off the side of the bed and sits up too. You wish he could learn to sleep with a shirt on sometimes.

He looks over at you, eyes squinted as they adjust to the light of day.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

“Morning,” he replies.

“What was that last night?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

He shrugs.

“No.” you shake your head as you push your blankets aside and walk to him, standing between his legs. “You’re not doing this to me.”

While his expression is blank, his eyes are saying so much but you don’t have the code to decipher the meaning.

“What was that?” you ask again.

“How it has to be,” he replies.

“Why would it have to be like that again? Just because I refuse to run off into the sunset with you?”

He shrugs once more.

You take a deep breath and let out a long exhale.

“Chan.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. He places his hands on your hips and you feel the familiar warmth his touch provides course through your body. Instead of pulling you closer, though, he moves you to the side so he can stand. “I don’t know how to want you, and want be to with you, and still accept that fact that you’re okay with this ending.”

As he’s talking, he walks around the bed and into his bathroom, you follow after him.

“I’m not okay with it,” you tell him, reaching out for his hand. “Is that what you think?”

He looks down at your connected hands, then up to you. 

“What I think, what I want…none of that matters. You’ve made that clear, y/n.”

“So, you’re okay with spending the next three months like this? Just fucking me and nothing else?”

“That’s what you’re here for,” he says coolly and removes his hand from yours.

You grit your teeth and swallow the expletive hanging on the tip of your tongue. You resolve to just nod your head as you slowly back out of the bathroom. He disappears into the closet, and you turn around on your heels. How can this man, whom you know for a fact is capable of giving you so much warmth and fleeting, albeit dangerous, glimpses of his love, turn against you so quickly? For a decision that’s not truly yours to make, all you feel you can do is accept the truth of your situation.

You don’t even bother to grab your phone before exiting the room, wanting to put as much space between the two of you before you spew words that you might later regret.

Fuck. You.

[ read chapter 27 here (coming soon ]

a/n: our poor Channie has no healthy coping mechanisms. be gentle with him. more coming soon! you can join the mailing list [ here ].

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

if you’re looking for stevie requests can i suggest eddie having to come to terms with steve and reader getting married/announcing theyre expecting and seeing how good he treats her compared to how eddie treated her when they were together (eddie was a fuckboy.

Request by anon.

Angst and fluff. Happy ending for reader.

Steve Harrington x Reader/Past Eddie Munson x Reader.

I'm not going to lie, I flew through writing this. It was just what I needed (to write some angst and sweet Steve content) and the story just flowed out so fast.

❤️

Eddie didn't regret many things in life but losing you was the one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

He should have treated you like a princess, instead he treated you like shit. It took a while for him to admit it, he strung you along and made you think his feelings were deeper than what they actually were.

In reality he was a typical fuckboy and messed around with your heart.

He was arrogant and cocky, assuming that you would never leave him. He dated other women and never gave a thought to how much it would hurt you.

Eddie assumed that he could come back and forth into your life when he felt like it, indulge in some great sex and then leave.

Then one day he decided to look you up while he was in town after being away for a little while.

Sometimes he travelled with Corroded Coffin doing gigs up and down the country, so when he ended back in Hawkins he figured he'd visit you and have some fun.

You can imagine his shock when he turned up at your house and Steve fucking Harrington answered the door, he was just in a towel and was smiling like the cat had got the cream.

"Harrington? What the fuck are you doing here?" Eddie snaps and there's a sinking feeling in his chest, a sense of knowing what's happening before anything is even said.

"Visiting my girl. What are you doing here Munson? If you're here for any booty call then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed" Eddie is silent for a moment and is about to speak when he hears you calling Steve's name.

You appear at the stairs beaming at Steve, the smile slips from your face when you meet Eddie's gaze.

"Back again huh? What's it been six months since I last heard from you Munson? I don't know what you think I am but I'm not an idiot...or maybe I was but not anymore. I'm with Steve and he treats me right, much better than you ever did. I suggest you leave"

He's stunned by your admission and looks to Steve who's gazing at you with complete love in his eyes. Shit...

The thing is the same love is mirrored in your eyes as you gaze back at Steve, the sight leaves Eddie feeling vaguely sick. He backs away from the door and practically high tails it away.

When he leaves Hawkins later that week, he's sure the next time he comes back this little fling of yours with Steve would be over.

Turns out he couldn't be more wrong.

❤️

Dustin is the one who tells him that you and Steve have gotten married. Steve has proposed on your one year anniversary and the two of you had gotten married in a small ceremony with just close friends and family.

To say it was like a punch to his gut was an understatement. By that time it had been almost a year and a half since Eddie had seen you and when he went back to Hawkins for his usual visit, he expected that you and Steve would be over.

He didn't expect you would be married.

It was hard to see you around town with Steve. You looked so happy and it was finally dawning on Eddie that he had lost something special.

A little while after the wedding you announced that you were pregnant. Uncle Wayne had passed on the news and gave Eddie a look of severe disappointment. Oh Wayne was delighted for you and Steve but he was pissed at Eddie and Eddie didn't blame him.

His uncle had warned him not to mess you around, that you could be special if Eddie just gave you a chance and stopped messing around.

Boy did Eddie regret not listening to the old man. Regretted every way that he had broken your heart and stomped on it and there was no way he could fix things or even hope to win you back.

Because Steve treated you right. Treated you a princess and doted on you. He made you smile and laugh instead of making you miserable.

It was Eddie's fault that he lost you and now he had to deal with the reality of that. You had truly moved on and Eddie was left with an aching heart.

If only he had treated you like a princess instead of treating you like a fool.

It turns out that he was the biggest fool of all for losing you.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

A little help from my friend -Oneshot

@talesofreading I'm sorry it took me so long to get this done for you! I hope you like it. Happy belated birthday darling. Word count: 3880

“For fuck’s sake,” Y/N grunted as she walked into the Avengers communal kitchen and common room area.  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a protein drink and some food to make a quick breakfast.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Wanda piped up from the kitchen table.  The other Avengers were all milling about, getting their own breakfasts before heading out or training.  Y/N had an early morning training with the recruits most days, so she often missed the communal breakfast meals.

“Nothing,” Y/N sighed.

“Don’t make me read your mind,” Wanda warned.

Y/N glared at her, and Wanda glared back.  Their conversation got the attention of the other Avengers in the area.  “It’s not a big deal,” Y/N continued.  “One of the new recruits is just a little…too interested in me personally,” she said, turning back to the counter.

Wanda frowned.  “What happened?”

Steve, Sam and Bucky all listened carefully, slowly eating their breakfasts.  Y/N was suddenly very aware of everyone in the area.  “It’s really not a big deal–”

“It is if it’s bothering you, Y/N,” Steve spoke up, all Captain America at that moment.  “Especially if it’s affecting your job or you feeling safe.”

Y/N smiled at him appreciatively.  “I can handle myself, Cap,” she said.  

“Never said you couldn’t,” he retorted.  “But if we can nip it in the bud with this recruit–”

“He just keeps asking for my number, okay?” Y/N said, waving away everyone’s concern.  “And…cornering me after training.  It’s fine.  I can handle it,” she said, finishing preparing her food and cleaning up after herself.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

Everyone turned to him in surprise.  Y/N had worked with him multiple times on missions and talked with him regularly, becoming good friends, but this still surprised her.  Bucky rarely joined the conversation unless prompted.  He was very low key and kept to himself most of the time.  So him looking at her with such an intense look and asking a question was a shock.  She stared at him with wide eyes.  “Tyler,” she replied.  He arched an eyebrow at her.  “Whitacre,” she finished.  

Bucky nodded and looked down, finishing his breakfast.  Nobody said a word as Y/N quickly gathered her food and left the kitchen.  She shook her head at herself once she reached her room to eat then shower.  She’d been growing some pretty strong feelings toward Bucky for a while now, but tamped them down deep in her heart.  He didn’t need some lovesick coworker to deal with.  He just needed friends as he integrated into regular life.  There was no way he’d feel the same toward her…would he?

***

“Today we’ll be starting gun training,” Y/N announced to her training group.  There was an excited whispered chatter from the recruits at her words.  “I could teach you myself, but I thought I’d bring in the expert of all experts in this field.  I expect you to shut up, listen, and give him the respect he deserves.  Our guest trainer is Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky was already walking into the training room as she introduced him, his face hard and stoic as it always was in these environments.  The recruits clapped for him as he stood next to Y/N.  “Thank you, Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted her then turned to the recruits.  “Let’s see what you got.”

After a rigorous training, where Bucky really broke down a few recruits and built them back up, each of their shots getting better by the end, they all left exhausted.  Bucky stayed behind, cleaning up the guns used for the training with Y/N when Tyler approached her.  “Hey Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her far too close for her liking.  

“Agent Whitacre,” she greeted him, giving him a polite but tight smile.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah come on, Y/N, I told you to call me Tyler,” he smirked at her.

“And I told you to call me Agent Y/L/N,” she replied, her eyes narrowing in warning.

Tyler’s face had a flash of annoyance before his smirk came back.  “Right.  Well, you ran off last time before I got a chance to ask you–”

“Once again, Agent, I’m flattered, but no thank you,” Y/N said hastily, turning away and closing another case of guns.  “I’ll see you next training.”

Tyler followed her as she walked away to the locker room to put the case away in the gun lockers.  She carefully put things away and turned to find him cornering her.  “Don’t be like that Y/N…” he started, taking another step toward her, his arms reaching up to cage her against the wall.

A loud bang made them both jump as Tyler whipped around to see Bucky who had set down another gun case sharply, glaring at Tyler.  He slowly approached, his eyes never leaving Tyler like he was hunting him.  He swerved around him at the last second, making Tyler flinch, then focused on Y/N as he inserted himself between them.  He reached his metal hand out and wrapped it around the back of her neck, angling her head up as he leaned down and kissed her deeply.  Y/N inhaled sharply, stiffening against him as she heard Tyler scoff.  The kiss ended too soon, Y/N barely kissing him back before Bucky pulled away and looked down at her.  “You good, Sweets?” he asked quietly, but just loud enough for Tyler to hear.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered, staring up at him in shock.

Bucky looked her over then turned to Tyler, keeping himself as a shield in front of Y/N.  “Respect the no, recruit,” he said lowly.  “And your form is shit.  Work on that before next time or I’ll make an example of you in front of everyone.”

Tyler swallowed harshly, his lips tight and his eyes wide as he minutely nodded.  “Yes sir,” he said.  He glanced at Y/N then walked quickly out of the locker room, running once he’d got past the door frame.

Bucky watched him leave, then turned back to Y/N.  He had an unreadable expression as they stared at each other for what felt like forever.  “Just tell me if he bothers you anymore,” he said, then turned and left.

Y/N stared after him incredulously.  Her fingers lifted to her mouth, his kiss still searing on her lips, the feeling of his metal fingers holding her firmly but gently on the back of her neck as his thumb caressed her jaw tingling her skin.  What the fuck just happened?

***

The gun training lasted two more training sessions, and every time at the end of class Bucky would linger behind with Y/N to clean up, then make a small show of kissing her in front of Tyler as he was leaving.  It took her by surprise each time, Bucky coming from seemingly nowhere and with no preamble, just kissing the living daylights out of her, calling her “Sweets,” then walking away like nothing happened.  Once the gun training was over Tyler didn’t even look her way anymore unless he had to.  So Bucky’s little plan had worked, but now Y/N was confused.  And worse, she craved him even more.

Three weeks later Y/N and Bucky were on a mission together.  It was surveillance on a potential target that was dealing in high power weaponry.  Y/N and Bucky had barely spoken to each other since that last gun training, exchanging brief greetings and farewells as they passed each other in the hallway.  The other Avengers had given some side-eyed looks, since Y/N and Bucky had normally been pretty friendly before, but no one commented on it otherwise.  Now she was stuck with him in close quarters for the next week as they gathered as much information about the target as possible.

She woke up from her turn sleeping, getting ready for the day and approaching Bucky who was sitting by the window in the small apartment they were staying in.  He hadn’t moved from the spot since she’d gone to bed hours before.  “Anything?” she asked quietly.  

“Another prostitute,” Bucky replied, standing and stretching as she took his place by the window.  “Otherwise nothing worth noting.”

“How lovely,” Y/N scoffed.  She got herself comfortable and looked through the scope Bucky had propped on the windowsill.  The view into the opposite apartment where the target stayed was pristine.  “He didn’t leave the blinds open, did he?” she asked, looking up at him.

“He did,” Bucky grimaced.  

“Jesus,” Y/N winced.  “You got quite the show.”

“Not really.  He only lasted about two minutes.”

Y/N laughed loudly at that.  “Poor girl,” she giggled, wiping her eyes and looking through the scope again.  “At least she was paid.”

Bucky chuckled and started walking towards the bedroom.  “Let me know if anything changes, Sweets.”

Y/N stiffened and before she could stop herself she grunted, “Don’t call me that.”

Bucky stopped and looked back at her.  Y/N kept her gaze in the scope, her face flushing with embarrassment.  She hadn't meant to say it out loud.  But who did he think he was to use the same pet name that he’d used in a fake “situationship” to help her get away from some creep and then use it in everyday life?  Like he hadn’t rocked her world three times over?  She heard his footsteps come back towards her, then the shuffle of his clothes as he kneeled down beside her.  “Why not?” he asked.

Y/N breathed heavily, trying to calm her thundering heart.  She kept her gaze in the scope, her hands tightening to fists in her lap.  “No one to save me from,” she said nonchalantly.

Bucky suddenly gripped her arm and pulled her to face him.  She gasped lightly as he manhandled her, moving so he was kneeling between her legs, bringing his face close to hers and taking her hands in his.  His eyes were piercing as he stared at her.  “That’s not it,” he said.  “Tell me why not?”

Y/N blinked rapidly.  “That is the reason,” she whispered.

Bucky shook his head.  “I can tell when people lie, Sweets.  Try again.”

Y/N shut her eyes tight.  “Please stop calling me that.”

She felt Bucky’s metal fingers caress her cheek and back into her hair, holding her head like he did when he kissed her.  She fought back the shiver at the coolness of metal, not wanting to give away just how badly she wanted this man.  Y/N heard and felt his breath fanning her face as he leaned in closer.  His nose brushed along her cheek, his lips ghosting close to the side of her lips.  “I can’t, Y/N.  You taste too sweet,” he murmured.

Y/N whimpered, and without warning tears pricked at her eyes.  She shook her head and pushed him away, standing and walking toward the bedroom.  “I can’t do this,” she nearly sobbed.

“Woah, wait, Y/N!” Bucky called out to her.  She tried closing and locking the bedroom door but he stopped it with his foot.  “Hey, don’t run away from me,” he grunted, pushing the door back open and looking at her in surprise.  “I’m sorry–”

“Please just leave me alone,” Y/N sighed, wiping her eyes and turning away from him.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding wounded.  “Talk to me.”

“How am I supposed to talk to you?” She was suddenly angry, turning back to face him with a glare.  “You decided the best way to help me with a creepy recruit was to publicly claim me in front of him and who knows how many others by kissing me?  And not just once, but three times?  Calling me a cute pet name?  Do you enjoy giving people false hope and then walking away because it means nothing to you?  And expect us to go back to normal?  What the fuck, Barnes?”

Bucky recoiled at her using his last name.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  “I…I should have talked to you beforehand, and not just done it.  That wasn’t fair, I’m sorry.”  Y/N crossed her arms, holding herself as she fought back more tears.  He took a step closer.  “And then I was a coward and didn’t talk to you about it afterwards, either.  God, I’m an idiot,” he grumbled, running his flesh hand over his face harshly.  “I…I really like you, Y/N.  I’m sorry I went about this totally wrong.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment then nodded.  “Thank you.  I forgive you,” she said.  

Bucky watched her sadly.  “Can I…can we start over?” he asked hopefully.

Y/N couldn’t stop the small smile spreading on her lips.  “Sure,” she said.  

He smiled and stepped toward her again.  He took a deep breath and licked his lips.  “I like you, as much more than just a friend.”

“I like you, too,” Y/N said quickly.

Bucky’s smile widened.  “Once we get home, can I take you out on a proper date?”

“Yes,” she said.

***

A week later they were coming home from a proper, successful date.  Bucky was quite the gentleman, taking her to a nice restaurant in the city, then a solo night tour (probably courtesy of Tony) through The Metropolitan Museum of Art.  They grabbed some dessert on the way home, talking the whole time as they snacked on the treat.  Bucky had kept a hand on her at all times, whether it was on her back as he guided her around or holding her hand as they walked.  They got off the elevator and Bucky walked her to her bedroom door.  

“Thank you for going out with me,” he said, standing toe to toe with her.

“Thank you,” Y/N said.  “I’ve never had such a fun first date.”

“Really?  Wow, I’ll have to up the ante next time,” Bucky smirked, his flesh hand reaching up and playing with the tips of her hair.

“Next time?” Y/N arched her eyebrow.  “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I am,” Bucky said, leaning forward.  “But of course I’m a gentleman.”

“Of course,” Y/N teased.

“So…would you like to go out with me again?” he asked, his forehead resting against her forehead.  

Y/N pretended to think about it.  “Mmh, I’ll have to check my schedule, so for now it’s a tentative yes,” she smirked back at him.  

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his fingers moving from her hair to her jaw, tracing it lightly.  “A tentative yes?” he grumbled.  “I know you like to tease, but I’m gonna need an enthusiastic yes, Sweets.”

Y/N’s eyes slightly widened at the pet name.  He hadn’t called her that since they got back from the mission, and she actually missed hearing it from him.  She nodded.  “Yes, I’d like to go out with you again,” she reassured him.  

His smirk returned.  “Good girl, Sweets,” he said.  Y/N felt a shiver down her spine at his words.  His eyes flicked back and forth between her eyes, then glanced at her lips.  “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nodded.  “Yes.”

Bucky’s metal hand gripped her by the back of the neck like the other times, his metal thumb sweeping over her cheek.  He leaned down and kissed her softly, not as firmly or passionately as the other times.  It was like he was trying to reassure her that this was real, and he wanted more than brief sexual tension.  And as much as she appreciated that, she craved what he’d given her before.  Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, her nails digging into his back as she gripped his shirt under his jacket, angling her head to deepen the kiss.  Bucky moaned against her mouth at her urgency.

“I’m trying to be, mmh, a gentleman, Sweets,” he groaned, pulling away and lightly pecking her lips repeatedly.

“You can be a gentleman and fuck me at the same time,” Y/N mumbled.

Bucky huffed a sharp breath, like her words sucked the air right out of him and he sagged against her, pushing her into her bedroom door.  “Fuck, Y/N, you can’t say that to me,” he growled.  “God, you drive me fucking crazy.”

Y/N smiled as she kissed from his lips down to his neck.  “Your room or mine, handsome?”

Bucky moaned again and dipped down, picking her up and holding her by her thighs.  He turned around to his bedroom door that was across the hall and marched towards it as he kissed her deeply again.  He ripped the door open and kicked it shut behind them before pinning her against the door.  His knee pushed under her core to keep her lifted as his hands slid to her ass, feeling the cheeks of her ass as he opened his mouth, his tongue licking her lower lip and sucking on it.  Y/N shuddered and whimpered against his mouth.  Bucky gasped at the first noise he was able to pull from her.  “Let me hear you, Sweets.  God, you’re so good.”  His tongue plunged back into her mouth, tasting her tongue and moaning again.  “You feel so good…sound so good…taste so good,” he breathed.  

Y/N moaned at the rushed desperation in his movements.  Feeling so wanted, so needed, was making her lightheaded and feel like she was beaming.  Her hands moved to cup his face, scratching his beard then reaching up into his hair, scratching down his scalp.  That pulled a deep growl from his chest, his hips rutting up into her.  She hummed, smiling against his lips.  Bucky pulled her away from the door and carried her to his bed, laying her on it gently as he shrugged his jacket off.  

It was a flurry of clothes being pulled off and flung into corners of his room, limbs clambering over each other as they moved further up onto the bed, huffed gasps and whimpers.  Bucky nipped at her throat as he felt how wet and ready she was for him.  “Protection?” he asked.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, her nails scratching down his back.

Bucky smiled against the skin of her shoulder.  He aimed his cock at her entrance and started to slowly push inside.  Y/N’s head wrenched back and she gasped at the fill and stretch of him, and Bucky tucked his face into her breasts as her back arched, kissing and licking her nipples to help ease her.  “Fucking hell, Sweets,” he swore, looking up at her as she relaxed back into the bed when she was adjusted to him.  He gave her the first roll of his hips, making her tremble beneath him.  “So responsive,” he smirked.  

“Kinda hard not to be, with all this above me,” Y/N breathed, her hands sliding up his chest.  “You live up to your name, handsome.”  Bucky blushed, smiling bashfully at her.  “Aw, you’re so cute,” Y/N cooed at him, her hands reaching up to his face and pulling him down to kiss him sweetly.  “I’ll have to compliment you more often.”

Bucky’s hips thrusted again and her mouth dropped open in a silent moan.  “Quit teasing,” he said, licking into her mouth.  “As much as I love your flirty compliments, I really need to fuck you before I lose my mind.”

“Then fuck me!” Y/N said, rubbing her nose along his cheek.  “Please!”

Bucky inhaled deeply then started pummeling his hips into her.  Y/N’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and held on tight as he held her in a hug so her body wouldn’t be pushed up the bed at his thrusts.  He sucked and licked at her neck repeatedly, pulling more wanton moans from her at the mix of pain and pleasure, leaving as much bruising evidence for later as possible.  He kissed his way back up to her mouth where she easily opened up to him, their tongues swirling and nipping at each other’s lips.  It was never-ending and yet too short all at the same time as Y/N tried not to get lost in her head at the blinding pleasure.  Y/N sucked on his tongue and Bucky adjusted his position to snap his hips slightly more upward, which had her keening against his mouth.  “There it is,” he smirked, then continued his previous, frantic pace in that new direction.  He was hitting that deep spot inside every time, Y/N’s breaths becoming more short and hyperventilated as her head thrashed back and forth at the overwhelming pressure building in her gut.

“Buck…handsome, I’m gonna cum…ah!” Y/N yelped as Bucky sat up, his flesh fingers strumming her clit as his metal hand held her at the back of her neck like the other times he’d kissed her, but this time his grip was tighter, tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck.  He forced her head up to meet him halfway as he pushed their foreheads together.  

“Cum all over my cock, Sweets.  Let me feel you,” Bucky growled, staring deep into her eyes.  Y/N gasped again at his words, then finally felt the snap deep in her belly.  She screamed as she came, her hands gripping his biceps and her legs shaking over his hips as her pussy clamped down on him.  Bucky grunted, his eyes shutting tight as he continued thrusting, prolonging her orgasm as his fingers never let up on her clit.  “That’s it, fuck!” Bucky hissed between gritted teeth.  “Where can I cum, Sweets?”

“Anywhere you want,” Y/N huffed, her body still twitching with aftershocks.  She was so close to cumming again.  

“Holy shit, dirty girl, huh?” Bucky asked excitedly.  “You feel so good, I’m just gonna fill you up.  Is that okay?”

“Yyyyeessss,” Y/N groaned.

“Good girl, Sweets,” he praised her.  His hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust even harder into her pussy, the sharp snaps making her jiggle and shake.  Y/N slipped a hand down and started rubbing her clit, her other hand gripping his wrist.  “Yeah, make yourself feel good.  You gonna cum again?  God, you’re so fucking beautiful, so pretty.  Prettiest pussy, Sweets.”  

Y/N shook harder as she felt her second orgasm barrel through her, her nerves feeling like they were on fire.  When she came Bucky moaned loudly, her pussy squeezing him beyond belief.  He finally came, continuing to thrust and fill her up until it dripped from between them and down their thighs to her ass.  “Bucky…” she huffed.

“Sorry, Sweets, I can’t help it,” Bucky shook above her, his cock still throbbing inside her.  “You squeeze me so good…and the serum makes everything, fuck…” he leaned down so his head rested on her chest.  “Makes everything more intense.”

“It’s okay, handsome,” Y/N smiled, her hands going to his hair and scratching his scalp, softly pulling at the strands.  He hummed at her gentle fingers’ caresses.  “We can just take a shower.”

Bucky hummed again, sounding more gravelly as he looked up at her.  “Dirty girl,” he smirked.

THE END

[fandomxo00]

ok but imagine this: I can see your guilty as sin part 3 18+

You drive Logan crazy and he finds you in the library

You are back in Logan's class, in your usual class period and you were trying to take a test. But your eyes kept wondering over to your teacher, his dark grey t-shirt clung to his muscles. His beard was nicely trimmed, and you wanted to twirl the white pieces of hair on his temples.

You imagined stepping over his legs, setting your weigh on to his thighs while your hands land on his chest, feeling his pecs flex under your fingers. You would feel his belt buckle against your clit, his large hands would place on your waist. Imagine your lips colliding with his, since the first you kissed him, addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. Logan had to swallow back a groan as he watched him with this lusty look in your eyes. And he could smell the slick that was starting to leak into your panties.

How would you react if he actually touched you? God he wanted you so badly. It was wrong but you were like a breath of fresh air, it was like was drowning and you kissed him. It was like all of his trauma all his insecurities and fears melted away because he was so enraptured with you. The way your lips slotted against his, the smell of your perfume filling his senses. Logan didn't think about being too old for you, he didn't think about you being far too innocent for him.

But you'd been able to leave, knowing that you were driving him crazy, you darted out of the room as quickly as possible. But he knew where you were going next period, and it was a study hall. So Logan took attendance before darting off out of the room and heading towards the library.

When he opened the door, he looked but didn't see you. But luckily he could seek you out, your perfume was like a trail to you. You were on your tippy toes, trying to reach a book that was far up. The skirt you were wearing came up to the tops of your thighs. Logan took two steps, his strides long as he got dealthy close to you before reaching up for the book. A shiver ran up your spine as you froze his other hand coming to your waist. "Here ya go." He handed you the book before he spun you around his eyes coming to yours in a heated daze.

logam stepped forward looking around to see the surroundings area clear, his hand came down to your skirt, slipping up the side and cupping your panties as his lips fit against yours. you moaned into his mouth, he hissed softly, "shhh, gonna get us caught. gonna be a good girl and be quiet for me?"

"yes-yes sir." you panted, nodding your head his fingers slid your panties to the side to feel the slickness that came out from your folds.

"all this for me?" logan husked.

"yes been been thinkin about all day." you stumbled over your words as you looked up into his eyes. his hand coming to cover your mouth as your mouth opened in a moan. your eyes clenching shut as his fingers slid into you. he roughly started fucking you with his fingers, as you gripped his shoulders for dear life. you couldn't believe you got to this point. you shattered around his fingers panting into his hand before he kissed you roughly on the mouth while you rode out your high.

logan brought his fingers up to his mouth to taste your essence, etching this moment in his mind so he could think about the way you tasted when he was alone. your hand came up to your hair pulling him into your mouth as your hand came over the tent in hid pants. then he pulled back, "cant do this here."

"then take me somewhere else." you begged.

"how about i take you out tonight?" he whispered looking down at you with soft eyes.

"take me out?" you grinned.

"i spoke to charles about you and he said i should treat a lady like you properly and i couldn't disagree." you giggled at his confession, your cheeks blooming as you leant forward to kiss his cheek.

"you did that?"

"ya for you, dont wanna hide."

"that was the appeal." you joked, kissing his jaw lightly.

"well not anymore sweetheart, think you can handle that?"

"yes please." you squeaked.

tags: @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[yolli-es]

this is my first request can we please get a yandere jinx headcanons please

Yandere!Jinx × Reader ❤️‍🩹

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, abuse, mentions of death

This is my first request too, and I am SO HAPPY!! I've wanted to write about this for a long time, but it was difficult for me. Believe me, I broke my head typing all this.

Jinx lacked tenderness and care in her life.

Vi showed her support and love in Jinx's childhood; Silco did the same thing later... it's still not enough.

When Jinx lost Silko and her sister, who had just come back into her life, she was on the verge of death. Not a day went by without her crying, hysterics, and self-harming. It was horrible, painful, and pathetic.

She also took on a mountain of responsibility for which she was never prepared.

And then you appeared. So serious, responsible, and ready for anything. You came to her office and did all the dirty work.

And also very understanding, kind, and patient.

Having witnessed her breakdown, you were absolutely calm. You did not run away, stayed close and pulled her back together.

Even after Jinx's numerous outbursts at you, even after the hard work and all that crap, you stayed. By her side, with her curse.

You reminded her of Vi with your kindness and Silko with your devotion. All the best in one person.

No, more expensive than them.

How could she not become attached to you?

You are the center of her life, the main object of her attention.

It was becoming physically painful for Jinx to be away from you for longer than 8 hours.

Whenever you worked, she always found a reason to be there, justifying it with help or a simple check on the quality of work.

She also began to keep her emotions in check, often biting her lips until they bled just to keep the voices from getting the better of her.

Jinx pays no less attention to her "work" because she noticed how your eyes sparkle while she creates a new gadget or uses it in action.

Now she does all this for you. Just for you.

Jinx just wanted to seem normal to you. Better than what you had already seen. She didn't want to scare you or make you hate her.

That's why she will never admit that she is following you.

Unfortunately, you're not always willing to share your personal life with the "boss," so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Going to the store? She's in the shadow of the stores. Sitting at the bar? She's taken the table behind you. Sleeping in your house? She's outside the window, and in a couple of hours, next to your bed.

Jinx counted all the moles on your face.

She only felt guilty once, when she was spying on you in the shower.

Jinx knew it was wrong, but she just couldn't say "no" to herself then. Mylo made cruel jokes about her afterward.

But it's your own fault for never locking the doors, isn't it?

Now she knows the exact number of moles, scars, and birthmarks on your entire body.

Your things started disappearing, and yes, it was her doing.

Jinx just wanted to have a piece of you in her home.

But then, when Jinx was so deeply in love with you, something irreparable happened—truly terrible for Jinx.

You find a partner.

You didn't even Fucking tell her. She saw it for herself when you were kissing so dirty at the bar.

Jinx was scared. The voices started screaming.

"You've been abandoned again, traded again."

This is the point of no return. Jinx can no longer hold the boundaries.

She didn't want, no, she couldn't lose you like Silko and Vi. She's not an idiot, and twice was enough.

As soon as you are alone, Jinx knocks you out and takes you to her.

It seemed like she had been preparing for this before, like "just in case."

The first month was terrible. You were struggling and didn't want to listen to Jinx at all.

Jinx didn't even tie you up, leaving you to roam around the room freely. This caused problems, and every time Jinx had to fight you. It was shitty, she got seriously beaten by you every time because she couldn't respond properly so as not to hurt you.

She was understanding and patient, just like you were with her before this.

But as soon as you started talking about freedom, Jinx would break down.

She was so angry, screaming and clutching her head. She even brought a knife with her once.

Jinx even swung at you but never hit you. No, that's too hard. You don't deserve it.

Every time after that, she pulled her hair as punishment.

She didn't really want to keep you here, a secret from everyone. Jinx was crazy, but not stupid, and was perfectly aware of what she was doing. But she also couldn't risk it anymore.

What if you run away? What if you find someone again?

Jinx was just afraid of losing you. The thought made her shake and feel sick.

You didn't understand why she was doing this to you. You really loved Jinx, and now you're getting this?

Once you realize that Jinx is just scared, everything becomes easier.

Still, you came to work here just for her. A stupid affair in a bar shouldn't have hurt your baby blue so much.

When she came to you and heard a declaration of love instead of the usual "get lost," it made her freeze. And then smile.

She didn't believe it.

And then you stopped fighting with her, being rude, and seemed to be okay with Jinx's extra touching.

The moment of realizing that it was not a joke was the happiest and, at the same time, the most frightening.

Now she had no room for error and she thought about all the possible future failures. And then you kissed her and Jinx immediately melted. She managed to focus on you and not on her mistakes.

She had never done this before.

Finally, your relationship has become official.

It took you another week before you could finally get out of there. Jinx still didn't trust you completely, even though she tried.

Jinx's house is your home; if you need something, then she needs something too; if you go somewhere, then she goes too.

Jinx was also very clingy. Before, she held herself back and didn't allow herself to touch you unless absolutely necessary. Now, she can do it as much as she wants. She doesn't care where you are, when, or why; there is no wrong time for a hug, a kiss, or a light slap.

Finally, Jinx can ask you the weirdest, stupidest, most personal, and most lustful questions. You are a couple, after all, and that means she has the right to know everything about you.

And it doesn’t matter that she already knows most of your stories.

Jinx adores you and would do anything. But now she didn't trust the people around her at all.

Suspicious meetings with someone better than Jinx will be seen as blatant betrayal in her eyes. And believe me, she won't let it go that easily.

At times like these, she regrets that she gave you back your freedom.

At first, Jinx will be angry. She will definitely start a showdown, possibly right there on the spot.

Often this went beyond the boundaries of ordinary conversation, and Jinx just shot their limbs.

It's their own fault. Everyone knows Jinx, what's their problem?

But when you explain yourself, Jinx finally lets you see her real emotion.

In fact, Jinx is not confident at all. All the important people have left her; she won't survive another time.

Therefore, you are no longer allowed to communicate with anyone other than her.

A relationship with Jinx will be suffocating, but she will never make you feel lonely, unloved or unfulfilled. She also takes care of all your basic needs.

Jinx is one of those yandere who will resort to any manipulation and tricks just so you don't leave her. Otherwise, she will break, and you will definitely know about it.

Your first sex will happen very quickly. What you expected from a touch-hungry girl?

Jinx has no experience at all, so she makes up for it with her energy. She kisses you, bites, pinches, and licks absolutely everything.

She will definitely leave hickeys on you. It's inevitable. 

When it comes to penetration, she suddenly becomes quiet and slow. She is just a little awkward and very scared. 

What if she hurts you? Or is it unpleasant? Or maybe you already feel disgusted by her? 

Kiss her, and it will give her confidence. Jinx will definitely squeeze her legs while you do it. 

When her hand finally reaches your pussy, it will trigger for her. 

It means so much more to her. 

Jinx's hand does a very good job of getting two fingers in at once and pressing on your clit. This is definitely too much for you, so Jinx will have to lean on top of you to keep you from pulling away from her. 

Kisses, kisses, kisses. There will never be enough. 

Jinx will also be very loud. She won't mind at all if everyone knows how good and pleasant it is for her to be with you. 

For the same reason, she will not kiss you on the lips; this will drown out your pleasant moans.

After the first time, Jinx is unstoppable. Now she's ready to fuck you anywhere and anytime. 

Often her initially innocent touches develop into hot sex.

Once you did it against a wall and Jinx held you. It surprised you, but she said that any of her guns would be heavier than you. 

Jinx is also not against experimenting in bed. 

Shibari is her favorite, and she gets better and better at it every time. 

But still, Jinx will never share you with someone. Don't even ask; the thought of it seriously pisses her off. 

Jinx loves to whisper in your ear, "You belong to me.". 

Do the same, and she will definitely get an orgasm.

Touch her as much as possible.

It might be a little rough; it's okay if you touch her. 

Playing with her hair not only calms Jinx down but also turns her on. 

No matter how wild and wayward Jinx is, she will always listen to you. She will definitely notice if you don't like something. 

Ask Jinx anything, and she will do it. 

Spank you? Jinx will make you count. Choke you? She'll be gentle with that. Threesome? NO.

Jinx adores and loves you and is very dependent on you. Sex is one of her ways to show you this. 

I honestly think that Yandere!Jinx is canon Jinx in relationship. I'm also not sure that I wrote everything I wanted to.. I had to miss sleep but I'm just so happy for your support. Thank you. 🥹

[randomly--accessed--memories]

@storm-ismyusername

Okay, so, the "Vox's kids die as children AU." I came up with the image of Vox keeping his kids in a fish tank first, but upon further reflection, I've realized that it doesn't really line up with the timeline I've established.

Vox's children were 7 and 10 when he died (1957)

Vox worked under an overlord for 3 years after his death until he broke free, started his own business, and met Alastor (1960)

He and Alastor were friends for 6 years until they fell out (1966)

Vox gained official overlord status 2 years later (1968). By the time Vox had the resources for the fish tank plan, his kids would've been 18 and 21.

The only window of time where Thomas and Sarah can die and still be children is 1957-1961, so it would have to happen when Vox was still in the employ of his overlord. I actually think the idea of struggling single dad Vox is really charming, so let's go with that.

With that background, I'm not sure if Vox would feel the need to do the fish tank thing since they went a decade without anything going wrong. Maybe it exists, but Sarah and Thomas aren't confined to it 24/7. Everyone already knows they exist, so they're allowed to move around the tower as they please (they are absolutely not allowed to go outside, though).

Okay, with that out of the way, onto the responses. Gonna answer this in parts: this one is the pre-canon stuff, the next will be the canon stuff, and the third will be RAM stuff.

Ondine & Fineas where they die as kids: How does child Sarah and Thomas react to: 1-Dying 2-Going to Hell 3-Reuniting with your dead Dad (who now has a TV for a head) Would any of their Sinner features be different? Is it weird I can see Vox being more fatherly to Sarah and Thomas than he was in his human life? So when Sarah & Thomas die as kids does Vox find them before or after his big fight with Alastor? If before, what would Alastor make of the situation?  How long does Sarah and Thomas fend for themselves in Hell? A few days, a few weeks, a month, a year?  Did someone find the first? Did Vox only learn his kids were in Hell when someone was using them as blackmail against him? Did Sarah and Thomas watch as their father brutally murder their kidnapper in front of them?  Maybe another Overlord (like Carmilla, Zestial, or Rosie) found them and gave them to Vox because they felt threatening children was beneath them and drew the line at hurting kids. Wait what if Alastor found them first? What would he do with them if he did?

Okay, so Sarah and Thomas die somewhere between 1958 and 1959. They still drowned, maintaining their aquatic theming, but I'm not sure how exactly– could've been from their mother driving under the influence and crashing the car through a bridge's guardrails, could've been just regular drowning at the beach or something. Their mother survives, so they land in Hell alone (I have no idea what an 8~9 and 11~12-year-old could've done to get sent to Hell, but let's just move on).

Not sure how Vox finds them. In the main AU, they found him by recognizing his voice in an advertisement and seeking him out, but at this point, Vox is just some random nobody. Let's just assume he got extremely lucky and happened to come across them 1-30 days after they first arrived but before anyone else thought to scoop them up. Vox is horrified that they're dead and in Hell and privately swears to permakill his wife for letting this happen if he ever sees her again. He brings them back to his shitty little apartment and starts trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to care for children in Hell.

Despite the circumstances, Vox is actually a better father in Hell than he was on Earth. He has nothing to his name other than a shitty errand boy job, a tiny apartment, and his two small children, who he thought he'd never see again. While the stress of having to provide for them is a beast, losing everything sort of forced him to get his priorities in order. They become far more tight-knit than when they were alive, as Vox is forced to spend more time with them and get creative when it comes to meeting their needs.

It's all quite the adjustment for Thomas and Sarah. Dying and trying to survive on the streets was as traumatizing as you'd expect. Reuniting with your dead dad and having to adjust to living in poverty is also a lot to take in. Every day, they're stuck in a one-room apartment with gunshots constantly going off outside and explicit instructions from their father to be as quiet as possible and not open the door for anyone– very different from the upper-middle-class suburbanite life they were used to. Eventually, their dad will come home with cheap food, they'll spend some time together, and then all curl up in their one bed and try to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's not a comfortable life, but it's definitely more intimate than how things used to be. Thomas starts letting go of some of his resentment of Vox since he can tell he's actually trying now, and Sarah's view of him as A Good Dad, Actually solidifies.

Eventually, Vox secretly kills his overlord, starts his first business, and is taken under Alastor's wing. Things become more comfortable for the three of them, and Alastor becomes something akin to a weird but fun uncle to the kids. Things are looking up for the family as Vox starts to build power and wealth. It's horrifying for the kids when Vox comes home one night without a head and swears vengeance on Alastor, but that incident only adds to Vox's upward momentum. After ten years of struggling in Hell, Thomas and Sarah (or rather, Fineas and Ondine) find themselves back in the lap of luxury as their father claims the title of the Overlord of Television.

[gracies-baby]

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

Monopoly

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

I’m so sorry this took so long 😭

——————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fucks wrong with you guys?!"

[rabbits-sin-den]

Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo disappears after you say I love you. So you punish him.

Minors: DNI

"Today's the day." I said to myself in the mirror.

It was our two-year anniversary. I'd been anticipating this one because today was going to be the day I said I love you. Neither of us have said it before which meant I would be the one diving into uncharted waters first. I was nervous on principal but based on the fact he's said everything but (mentioned a future together, asked about rings, got terminally jealous anytime someone else looked at me) I felt pretty confident he felt the same way.

I went to dinner and everything went swimmingly. We reminisced. We joked, laughed, and paid for our dinner. When he tried to invite himself into my apartment. I stopped him.

"I have work tomorrow and you don't know the meaning of moderation."

"Just quit already.” he whined.

"It's one more week. I might as well finish it out."

He whined some more and I teased him a bit before I finally took the plunge.

"I love you." I said. "I um....I wanted to make sure I said that."

Silence.

The longer it went on, the more nervous I felt. When I looked up, Satoru was looking away. When I was about to ask what was wrong he took a step back and disappeared. I blinked, dumbfounded. My heart pounded in my chest. As the shock wore off it seeped into anger and sadness. I went inside my house and closed the door, sinking to the ground.

He doesn't love me back.

The next few days were a blur. I was heartbroken. I even looked up new apartments to move into. I couldn't exactly keep him out of my house but I could move. Was it dramatic? Yes. Was I going to give myself the opportunity to just forget what happened and let myself be strung along? No. For the past two days the endless cuddles, kisses and passionate nights plagued me. I was almost happy I could work this week. At the end of Wednesday, my boss walked up to me with an oddly apprehensive expression on his face.

"You don't have to finish out the week." He said.

"Huh?"

"You don't have to finish out the week. Letting you off the hook early since you have two days of PTO accrued."

"Did I...mess up?"

"No. But you look like you need a break." He said.

I mean I guess the "eyes swollen from crying every night" look wasn't awesome to look at every day but he also didn’t care about things like that. So what’s happening?

He cleared his throat, looked meaningfully at my desk before walking away. There wasn’t any arguing it. I didn't want to sit at home and think but I didn't have the energy to go out either. I packed up my stuff and took the train home. When I entered the apartment. There Satoru was, looking relieved to see me. I glared at him.

"Get out."

He blinked in surprise.

"What happened?" He asked.

What happened?? Fuck you dude.

"I'm not interested in this game you're playing." I said while putting down my bag and taking off my jacket.

"What game?"

"The game where you pretend you didn't brush me off when I said I loved you." I seethed. "The game where I pretend that you didn't fucking hurt me."

My voice cracked at the end and I could feel the tears coming.

"I love you too." He said.

Bullshit.

"Too late."

"I...."

I peeked at him and he looked sheepish which wasn't like him. Guess he knew how badly he fucked up.

"I left like that because if I didn't I wasn't going to be able to let you go to work." He said.

I ignored him and looked into the fridge for some leftover comfort food.

"You got off work early for the week right?"

I paused.

"How did you know that?"

"I threatened and bribed your boss."

"...What."

Satoru walked over toward me.

"When you said I love you I...." He walked toward me and trapped me against the counter. "Even now, just thinking about it, I want to..." He got closer and I felt something hard pressing against me. "I want to ruin you for anyone else."

I finally braved a look at his eyes and even though I was pissed there was no mistaking that look. His eyes were dark with hunger and barely restrained possessiveness. There were a couple of nights when I got to see a glimpse of this look. Usually, after someone was a little too flirty with me or a random day where he snapped after not getting enough affection.

"You really hurt me." I said.

"I'm sorry." He said, leaning down and kissing me.

I could tell where this was going so I broke it off.

"How sorry are you?"

"Incredibly."

"Then make it up to me.” I said. “And I decide how you’ll do it.”

If I leave it up to him I’ll wake up with a brand new car and an apartment full of flowers. 

I sent him away while thinking of what could possibly make me forgive him for the past few days of hell he put me through. At first, nothing came to mind because nothing was enough. He seriously broke my heart. But it was also his first serious offense besides the cat thing. The apartment was filled with memories and evidence of his affection. The custom couch for he exclusively bought to cuddle more comfortably. The stolen kisses in the kitchen. The random gifts he’s given over the years.

But I don’t want to get played.

After a lot of deliberation I decided I can forgive this. Not before a little revenge though. I wanted him to suffer but not in a way that hurt him. An idea popped in my head and I smiled and pulled up the computer.

Friday morning when I was in the bath, he knocked on the door. When gave him permission he opened it. Satoru stood there in a maid outfit awaiting my orders. He looked confused but didn't dare complain. I stared at him for a bit before smiling at him. I sat up and turned my back to him.

"Wash my back and massage my shoulders while you're at it."

He walked forward and I held a hand up.

"What do servants say to their masters after an order."

"...Yes Ma'am."

"Good."

He came over and did as he was ordered. He was surprisingly good at what he does. I let myself make satisfied noises, enjoying the way he tensed up after each one.

"Thank you. That's enough. Start cleaning the kitchen and living room."

"Yes, Ma'am."

He left the bathroom and I contemplated what outfit would make this hardest on him. Probably me standing out there naked but I didn't have the guts for that. Plus it would be cold. I got out of the bath, draining it. After several minutes of deliberation, I decided staying in a towel might be best. He glanced at me, stiffened then resumed cleaning while avoiding me. I sat on the living room couch and turned on the TV.

"When you're done, come over here and kneel on the floor."

I didn't leave much for him to clean so within the hour he was in front of me kneeling. I got up and inspected the kitchen. He even got inside the fridge. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure Satoru knew how to clean given his upbringing. I returned to the couch, sat down, and examined him. His skirt was slightly lifted from his half-hard erection.

"You did a good job in the kitchen. So you do have a little common sense."

I pressed my foot onto his cock and he jolted. His body trembled as I slowly put pressure up and down his shaft.

"So what were you thinking on our anniversary?"

"I wasn't." He replied.

"Exactly. You were thinking with this..." I pressed harder and he grunted. "Instead of thinking how that would affect who you're with."

"I'm sorry." He said breathlessly.

His hips started moving and I removed my foot.

"You're not off the hook yet." I said then I held out a vibrator that can be strapped to his dick. "Put this on."

I handed it to him and he glanced at me. He lifted the skirt up, putting it in his mouth, and revealed his unfairly pretty cock. I kept my face impassive as he slid the little ring over his shaft. He looked at me and I clicked the remote. His eyes widened and in his shock, he dropped the skirt, his body tensing up.

"You're going to do my laundry," I said. " And that's staying on till you finish. If you cum that's it." I said.

He nodded and got up. I clicked my teeth and he looked at me, eyes swimming with desire.

"What do you say?"

I could see a wild look building in his eyes.

"Yes master."

I waved him off ignoring how the change in title made me feel. I supervised him while he washed the clothes. It was the most out of control I'd ever seen him. In the middle of movements, I'd increase the intensity, causing his body to jerk. I'd lower it to the lowest volume then rapidly increase it while he was watching the washer. His breathing got heavier as time went on and while the thick tented fabric covered it, I knew he was slick with precum. His hands gripped onto whatever it could like a lifeline. After two hours he was done.

He looked at me, eyes silently begging me for some kind of release.

I picked up one of my underwear from the clean pile and walked over to him. I lifted up his skirt and sure enough, his heavy cock dripped with need. I used the underwear the clean up the mess and then threw it in the washer.

"You've got one more load to do." I said before sitting back where I was.

When the machine got going he walked over to me. I glanced up at him and he bowed his head. I flinched when he dropped to his knees and held my hand.

"I'm sorry for hurting you..." He said softly. "And I want to make it up to you."

He spread my legs slightly.

"May I?"

I was at my limit anyway.

"Sure. At my pace."

I laid down and the second his tongue pressed to my center I gasped. He immediately got to work, running his tongue over my clit and working his fingers in and out. Loud moans rained out of my mouth and I couldn't catch my breath from the onslaught. When I caught a glimpse of his face, the calculated sharpness in his eyes, I realized...I got played.

He got up, towering over me while shoving the vibrating ring further down his cock. He pressed the vibrating piece against my clit causing both of us to curse. His breath was shaky as he rubbed his dick up and down my slit.

"I wanna serve my master." He said with a shaky voice. "Please let me serve you."

You just wanna get off you bastard.

But fuck I wanted to get off too.

I nodded and he immediately inserted himself inside in one swoop. I turned my head to the side as I tried to adjust to the sudden fullness. He moved and I cried out as his cock brushed a spot that made my head spin. He increased the pace, wanton moans filling the air as he got some relief. Every thrust was a shot of pleasure. Loud slaps mixed with our moans as the pleasure started to build. Satoru leaned in, hitting a deeper angle. My back arched as I whined, clenching around him. His tip slammed into that wonderful spot over and over and over.

"Ah-!" I gasped as he slammed down a little harder.

I closed my eyes for a bit and Satoru picked up my hips making me match his pace. My whole body tingled. I was over the moon. I glanced between us and all I could see was a filthy mess. I was in love.

"No one else..." He said with a shaky breath. "I'll make sure of it..."

"Sa-..I-I'm-!"

"Come on my cock, master." He commanded in a guttural tone.

The tension snapped and I threw my head back as I came. My body twitched as he kept fucking me through my orgasm. He never let up, not for a second. His hips stuttered as he came inside me, thrusting deep inside with a victorious look. When he calmed down, he poorly feigned innocence.

"Oh no. I came without your permission." He said, using my finger to press down on the remote.

He was still inside me so both of us jumped from the vibrations. His body shivered as a blissed out look went over his face. He looked down, a sinister smile was on full display as he slowly started thrusting again.

"Looks like you'll have to punish me."

I shuddered and twitched every time the vibrator at the end of his cock brushed my clit. Even though it was too much, I couldn’t bring myself to push him off. Through the intense sensitivity the pleasure started to build again.

“You should’ve been turned into a snake.” I stuttered out.

He caressed my cheek.

“I love you too. I meant that.” He said softly.

”I’m not saying it back until I forgive you.” I pouted.

”I’m willing to put in the work.” He smiled.

The laundry machine beeped, making both of us jump. “Start by hanging up the underwear.” I said finally.

He kissed me on the cheek, looking at me fondly before getting up.

“Yes ma’am.”

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

As the first math anon (the one with the failed exam), I really do appreciate you writing out a response for me. I will sincerely take your advice and tips to heart.

I hope it helps, anon!! If there's any specific parts giving you trouble (except geometry bestie sorry) I'm happy to try and help break it down!

[necromancy-savant]

That one poll reminded me of how one time in high school one Ms. Pease saw me quietly listening to my ipod in the hallway waiting for my next class and she just ripped it out of my hands. And I was staring in pure dumb shock for like 30 seconds and she was like "are you coming or not." She then proceeded to explain, once we walked the whole fucking school to her shitty little office she shared with 15 other people, that ipods aren't allowed in hallways. Which was news to me on account of everyone had them or cd players. She was known for being horrible for no reason but damn. I wish it was her who got arrested for cocaine

[emdotcom]

My brain is so full of Bees about Post-Shift 2.

It's a fan game that was delayed for 4 years -- by the time it released, fnaf fangames as a whole were not as popular as they had been, & most people in the scene had forgotten about Post-Shift 1, so not a lot of people heard about it/played it.

Worse still is the people who did talk about the game. Pretty unanimously, the consensus was this: this game is the craziest, most insane fnaf fangame. It's overly difficult with mechanics that have no rhyme or reason to them & tutorials that are wordy, unhelpful, & sometimes actively mislead the player, meaning you need to comb through a lot of text only to be misinformed. It's not as infamous as some other fangames, but it definitely was talked about very poorly.

In general, I think most of these criticisms were blown up out of proportion, but I can't really disagree with most people's problems -- it is difficult & wordy, & rather hard to understand. I think, however, that the game is still 1. Really fun, 2. Not a bad game at all, &, most importantly, 3. Is a free fucking game that was clearly a passion project. Most damn fangames never get off the fucking ground when made in groups because the creators will never make a red cent off the thing -- this game was made by one dude for 4 years & delivered to people for free. It didn't ask anything of you except to accept it as a difficult game & to not go in with wild expectations. The dev just wanted to make a game that was rough, but he also wanted to make a game that felt unique & was fun. & It is fun, too, is the damn thing.

[bread-of-death]

Whelp. I just emailed the Dean.