#//but if he goes without it for too long it's a fucking nightmare

[troublewithvampires]

@bxtsence said: “So what exactly do you do for sustenance….? Do you drink human blood or…?”

Salvatore rolls his eyes and shoots Rowan a glare that has no real heat behind it. He taps his claws against the cool glass in his hand.

"I'm dead," he says flatly. "I can eat, but I don't gotta, because I'm dead." His shoulders tense up and he sighs, his eyes flicking down to look at the table in front of him. The surface is polished, ever so slightly, and he can see his hazy reflection against the wood. The sight makes him sneer.

Finally, he looks up. "Yes, I drink blood," he says. "I drink blood just like any other bloodsucker--it's just that I don't need it to live. I need it for energy, sure, but I ain't alive anymore, so I don't need food. I ain't gonna fuckin' starve if I can't get a meal."

As he speaks, Salvatore feels an uncomfortable twinge in his gut, long-gone hunger pangs of the past digging their teeth in as he remembers what it felt like. For nearly ten years, he'd rotted away in that basement, feeling every second of the starvation while never being granted the relief of death.

Abruptly, Salvatore rips himself out of those memories, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a long swig of his scotch. It burns going down his throat, but he hardly registers that anymore. Then, he slams it back down on the table, perhaps a tad too harshly.

"Point is," Salvatore drawls, feigning nonchalance as he turns his head back to look up at Rowan, "I drink blood, yeah. I ain't exactly special compared to the other bloodsucking leeches out there." Salvatore falls quiet after that, deciding he'd rather let the subject drop. A moment later, though, he supposes it's only fair if he asks a question in turn.

"And you?" he says, smiling wryly. "Know you've mentioned drinkin' blood before--is it the same for you? Or can you substitute somethin' else now and then?"

#❝ i'll talk your ear off‚ kid ❞ 「 answered 」 #❝ take it from old sally two shoes‚ kid ❞ 「 in character 」 #bxtsence #❝ here comes the debt collector ❞ 「 jojo verse 」 #starvation cw #//first time using that tag lol- anyway gonna try and tag mentions of sal going through that going forward #//especially very graphic descriptions #//no pressure to respond to this if this is is a bummer or anything haha!!! but yeah. sal doesn't *need* blood #//but if he goes without it for too long it's a fucking nightmare #//on the carrd i compare it more to like... withdrawals rather than starvation #//but the effect is the same: sal suffers if he goes too long without blood. it won't kill him but it sucks #//and also the withdrawals comparison is based on some dialogue from the og story that makes me feral #//sal: i used to sneer at junkies.... not anymore. i get it now.

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x reader #i love writing completely ridiculous and unhinged side characters #topper too i always make him so weird LMAO #this is a lil rough around the edges but !! whatevrrr

[leqonsluv3r]

valentine’s day

—leon finally starts to heal after he meets you in a grocery store, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i’ve had this idea in my head since i went to the LANY concert a month ago and heard this song live. i have not been the same person since, this drabble/blurb is dedicated to this song and leon. it’s a lot longer then i intended and i apologize lol

leon wasn’t one to heal easy.

not from his past, not from the missions when he saw more gore and blood then he wanted to. not when he had gagged every time he saw blood from that point foreword.

he was still healing when he walked into a grocery store about four months after his last mission. he was still healing when he grabbed one of those stupid baskets to carry your groceries in through the store.

he grabbed a couple bottles of alcohol, some snacks and some soap. essentials, things he needs. because sleeping without alcohol now is…it’s a lot harder then it used to be. just nightmares and images of bloodshed — he just says fuck it. he gets what he needs, what he wants and he goes up to the front of the store to pay.

what he doesn’t understand, when he sees you for the first time, is why your working in a grocery store of all places. your too beautiful for that, you should be doing something better, something worthy of your time. he doesn’t know a single thing about you yet and he’s willing to draw that conclusion.

you smile kindly at people from behind your register, your voice is kind and sweet. it draws something within him like a magnet, his heart is pounding, he’s going to explode or something. he used to be so good at talking to women but it’s declined as the years have gone by. he’s gotten tired, he just didn’t care like he used to.

he awkwardly sits his basket down on the conveyor belt of the register, you catch his eye and smile a little and it fucking does something to him. he knows he’s screwed beyond relief at that point. he smiles back, or tries to. he’s out of practice on that to, can’t remember the last time he’s smiled.

“this all for you?” you say softly, your eyes scanning over the bottles of alcohol, the snacks and the bottle of soap. he nods and chuckles a little, low and deep, just like his voice. “yeah, that’s all…” he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket of his jeans.

he wish he could say something better, something more positive and just something to grab your attention. he searches his brain as you tell him the total and he hands you the card. but he doesn’t have to say anything, you speak first.

“leon? that’s…you have a nice name.” you say and it snaps him out of his brain, he blinks those devastating blue eyes. ones that were once full of life, he nods. “my mom gave it to me.” he jokes lamely, or at least he thinks it’s lame until he hears your small little giggle.

he feels his heart beat with more confidence and energy now, like his one effort at making you smile is good enough. making you laugh is worth enough. you hand him his card back and put the receipt in the shopping bag, telling him to have a great day. not a nice day like you did with the others, but a great day. like you could tell he needed to hear that.

he walks out of the grocery store with the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. one that he has been a stranger to for months. he has you to thank for that.

the weeks that followed he came back to the grocery store, once maybe sometimes three times a week if he wasn’t sent off on a mission. he almost can’t help himself, he likes talking to you when your there.

you make him feel something he hadn’t felt in such a long time. it’s almost ridiculous, but he can’t help himself, it’s like an addiction. but it doesn’t involve him waking up with a hangover.

he keeps coming, week after week and buying things from the grocery store just to talk to you, just to see your sweet face. just to give him some kind of ray of sunshine that casts his whole body in a warm glow. making his heart beat faster.

but today was different, he was going to ask you out today. he was going to do it, he couldn’t be scared anymore. he couldn’t let you pass by anymore like something rare and just ignore you.

you were something to him. even if you didn’t even know that yet.

he walked up, carrying the same five things he always grabbed. his heart was pounding wildly, he was so out of practice but he just had to get out there and do it. just give himself something, he would hope you would say yes.

he put the items on the conveyor belt and waited until it was his turn, you finished checking out the customer in front of him and then turned to look at him. “hi stranger, haven’t seen you in awhile.” you say with a small frown, it’s adorable, it makes his heart melt.

he chuckles and shakes his head, “didn’t know you missed me.” he muses as he watches you start scanning his stuff. slowly and methodically almost as if you wanted this interaction to last longer too.

you sigh and shake your head, “of course i did, your my favorite customer.” you say with a small smile, and if he wasn’t looking so intently at you, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle blush on your cheeks.

“i better be. goodness knows i give you guys enough business.” he chuckles playfully and flashes you a grin, almost as bright as the sun. he didn’t know where he was willing this confidence from, maybe it’s because he needed you. he needed you to at least attempt to be with him. you were the first light he has had in his life in a long time.

you scan his last item and he realizes it’s now or never, “26.73” you say as you lay out your hand for the card so he can pay. he reaches into his wallet and gives it to you, your fingers brush against each other. he wills himself to do it, to just do it now.

“uhm, i actually…i have a question for you.” he says with a small tremble of his hands, keeping his eyes on you to gauge your reaction behind the register. you look back up at him, swiping his card. “yeah?” you say and he could swear there’s almost hopefulness in your voice.

he swallows all the nerves down and attempts to keep himself calm enough to get this out, he can’t screw this up. he cannot screw you up, he would never forgive himself if he did.

“do you want to go out with me? like on a date?” he says and it’s so weird, the words feel foreign as they slipped from his mouth. usually women used to flock to him, but they didn’t anymore. his confidence with women had slipped right along with him trying to be sober all the time.

you blinked at him, holding onto his card in your small but intricate fingers. you seem to be thinking it over, weighing your options. he feels like the rejection is going to slip out of your lips at any given moment and he’s preparing himself for it.

then eventually, you respond, “i’d love to.”

now, it’s his turn to gawk and blink at you, almost perplexed that you are actually saying yes, accepting him and accepting this date. he can’t help the smile on his face, it’s almost stupid. you hand him the card and his brain goes on autopilot. you hand him the bag of his stuff, he grabs it and goes to walk away.

until, “wait! you forgot your receipt!” you yell behind him, holding up a slip of paper and waving it. he turns around and walks back to the register, his brows furrowed. you never gave him a receipt, he grabs the slip of paper from your fingers. he reads it over with confusion until he sees your number at the bottom, your hand writing and scribbles drawn with a little heart next to it.

he smiles, another genuine one that only you could conjure onto his face. “text me, we can set up a date.” you say to him, nodding towards the receipt. you look just as giddy as he feels inside. he nods, “absolutely. will do.”

he texts you the minute he gets home. and you respond. the texts keep going between you two until you both eventually settle on a date to go out. your both feeling like love-struck teenagers, so entranced with each other it’s almost borderline disgusting.

the week after you set the date passes and neither of you can hardly wait. you both have your reasons for being nervous, you both have that joy when you see each other but it shines in a different way. especially when he picks you up for your guy’s date.

you look stunning. stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it for him. you look like if heaven was a person, like an angel. that’s good enough reason for him to not let his blue eyes break from you all night.

and they don’t, they don’t ever break. not one second, he keeps his gaze on you at dinner, when your both talking and flirting aimlessly with each other. to leon, it feels good to have that someone; even if they don’t know it yet. that lights up their world and just makes it so much better.

he doesn’t break his gaze when you two walk by the lake, showing him all the birds and where they nest when winter comes closer. he admires the way you talk about small things, things that other people wouldn’t normally talk about or care about for that matter. but you took time, every week, to come feed the ducks and birds at this lake.

and he doesn’t break his gaze when he walks you back to your place, low intimate whispers that turn into slow kisses and touches. it doesn’t turn frantic, it just stays slow and gentle. it’s loving and it almost wants to make leon cry, because you care so much, this kiss just proves it.

because for the first time in a long time, you make him feel cared for. you make him feel wanted and it’s so much to him that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

he wants you forever, he wants you as long as you let him have you. and he’s always going to take care of you, just like you’ve unknowingly taken care of him. taken the sadness away from him by just being in his life.

three months later, you and leon were dating.

you guys were the happiest people, it seemed you brought leon back from the edge. he opened up and you learned all you could about him. he got to learn more about you. and you both loved the idea of having that one confidant in each other.

the one you would have when you were sad, scared, angry, frustrated, etc. everything made sense with the two of you together. and you guys found that one piece that was missing within each of you. you guys were happy, leon was smiling a lot more then he usually did.

he didn’t drink his days away anymore, he didn’t come back from missions to an empty apartment and he didn’t have nightmares. it was still there but you dulled the ache, you filled that dark hole inside of him that had been gone for so long.

you made him happier, you made him recognize the man in the mirror again with your love. your love and everything about you made him better. he was better for you.

you had each other to soothe the gaps and ridges of your guys souls that were jagged. you had that thing that he was searching for, that he’d been missing for so long.

he loved you.

and nothing was ever going to change that.

an: i love you guys sm :,) thank you guys for reading my stuff and engaging. i was so worried when i started writing on tumblr that it wasn’t going to take. that no one would like my writing and i was wrong. you guys have given me so much support in liking my fics. it makes me so happy to have that support. it keeps me going. i love you all, i’ll be posting a one shot soon, keep up on my requests. pls reblog if you enjoyed, you guys know the drill. kisses, xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim (to join the taglist DM me or interact with my link at the beginning)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #re6 leon x reader #leon kennedy drabble #re4 leon x reader #re4 leon #vendetta leon #leon kennedy fluff #re2 leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #fluff #angst #light angst

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Love Is A Losing Game

The avox stood against the wall, waiting for you to beckon, while you sat in your sunroom with your longtime best friend, Livia. You were at a small table drinking tea and listening to her complain about her toddler, Plutarch.

“Ugh. I swear, I can't even go to the powder room without him following me.” Reaching for a biscuit, your dirty blonde friend sighed, “I told Hilarious that we need to hire a nanny, but he said no.”

She took a small bite of her biscuit as you sipped on your tea. You didn't know why she was so upset about her toddler wanting to spend time with her. And you told her so too.

“You just don't understand how demanding motherhood is, Y/N. Just you wait and see.” Pointing to your round belly, Livia factually remarked, “In a few more months when you pop out Coriolanus’ little brat you'll be singing a different tune.”

“Don't call Cassian Xandros a little brat.” You snippily ordered your friend, causing her to just roll her eyes at you. Setting down your teacup, you decided to change the subject to something that you needed to get off your chest; something that's been eating away at your mind. “I think Coryo's having an affair.”

“He's only been president for a few months, Y/N. If word got out, well, it'd be scandalous and I'm sure his political career would be dead in the water.” Livia told you while nibbling on her lemon butter biscuit. “Do you know with whom?”

“No, but I know he has to be having an affair, Livia. I mean he comes and goes at all hours and half the time he's not even coming to bed; we haven't slept together in a while too.”

“Oh no, now that is a problem.” The dirty blonde socialite sighed. “I bet it's Clemensia Dovecote that he's cheating with. You don't know, since you were a couple grades below us at the Academy, but they were always walking into the school linked arm in arm. Even though they denied it, they looked like a couple back then.” Livia bluntly informed you, picking up her teacup and sipping it.

“Really? I didn't know that.” You honestly told your friend. Reaching for your own teacup, you revealed the name of the person you thought your husband had a thing for back in his Academy days. “Coryo was always with Sejanus back then; I always got the vibe that they were a little bit more than just friends.”

“Oh I hope not. He was district.” Livia spat out; the thought of the president having a past love affair with a district person making her skin crawl.

If only she knew about what went down between him and Lucy Gray. Oh, she'd shit her pants if she knew about that.

You know, of course, since he told you about it after a year of dating. When you had to all but pull his teeth to get him to reveal why he refused to tell you that he loved you; show you anything other than lust and his OCD tendencies.

It didn't bother you.

Correction, him having Lucy Gray as his ex and his failed first love didn't bother you, but the number that she did on him- now that’s what bothered you.

She fucked his head up pretty bad; took you a long time to unfuck it up too. To get him to be able to confess his love to you.

But somewhere deep inside of your soul, you always feared that Coryo was just telling you what you wanted to hear. That he didn't truly love you; that he could turn to somebody else once he got bored of you.

“Yea…but they were close friends. Like brothers” You reminded Livia. “And his death hit Coriolanus hard.”

That was an understatement. Your husband still had nightmares about his fellow comrade’s death. It happened a decade ago, but he was still haunted some nights by nightmares. Those nights you usually had to ride his cock to calm him down so he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He never talked about the nightmares, other than the one time he told you that it was about Sejanus’ death. You never pried, knowing that the Plinth boy's execution was a taboo topic for Coriolanus.

The socialite rolled her eyes, only to suggest, “If you think he's having an affair then you should wait up for him tonight and confront him.” Giving you a look from over her teacup, she added in, “It's what I would do.”

Coriolanus was exhausted. No, wait, take that back- he was FUCKING exhausted.

Between trying to clean up the fucking mess that older then dirt President Ravenstill left for him and trying to ensure a smooth transition of head gamemaker duties to his successor (a recent University grad that sadly didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground), he was stretched too thin.

Burning the candle at both ends as one might say.

He was barely sleeping; worse he was barely able to spend anytime with you.

You were 6 months pregnant with his first child.

A son.

He felt guilty for being in his office on the opposite side of the presidential palace or at the Citadel, but he didn't have a choice. The games along with trying to keep the country afloat was his top priority.

As much as he wanted to spend his late afternoons and evenings with you, he couldn't. And he wanted nothing more than to fuck you dumb on his dick every night too, but sadly he was just too tired anymore for that either.

When the new Head Gamemaker calls up in the middle of the night frantically asking what to do if an intern falls into a mutt tank…well…yea…that's when Coriolanus knows he has to do two jobs instead of just one.

He's stuck puppeteering the new head gamemaker *cough* telling him step by step how to do is damn job since he fucking fudged his job application and has shit for brains *cough* and running a country that's national bank account’s lower than it should be *cough* looks like President Ravenstill and his cabinet were embezzling funds or something cause the numbers aren't adding up *cough*.

“Yes, well, if you need any more assistance on this matter don't hesitate to call.” Coriolanuse tightly told the Head Gamemaker. The man was grating on his nerves. Before the unqualified idiot could utter a word, the president said goodbye and hung up.

Hung up with a firm, loud, clunk since he was so tired and aggravated.

Unfortunately, the president was always tired anymore. He was even too tired to fuck you these days, which was truly depressing for him since your Coryo felt you were even more beautiful now that your belly's round with his child.

Coriolanus felt that your pregnancy makes you look radiant. Your skin had a glow to it, he felt you look ethereal.

Your tits were full from the milk your body was making in order to feed your son once he was born; he loves your milk heavy boobs. Coriolanus Snow’s a tits and ass man; so your boobs going up by 2 sizes was heaven for him. The president enjoys sucking and massaging them in his large, calloused hands while you ride his cock. Burying his face in them, peppering kisses in your cleavage.

Something his exhaustion has been keeping him from doing.

Also, your ever growing belly (full of the precious life you created during a very passionate and lustful night 6 months prior) made his chest swell with a burning pride. Coriolanus loves kissing your stretch marks and running his hands all over your belly.

He also enjoys whispering to your belly, telling your growing son all kinds of father-son secrets.

But he’s been too tired and tied up with his never ending work to do that ritual.

Half the time he was passing out on the sofa in his office before he could even make it to your room; the other half of the time he was sliding into bed in the wee hours while you were in a deep sleep.

He hated it.

But he has to endure it because he refuses to have the games flop during his first year as President of Panem.

When Coryo dragged his feet into your large, ornate bedroom he wasn't expecting you to be up, waiting for him. He assumed you'd be asleep, like every other night.

“It's nearly 2 in the morning, Y/N. Why aren't you sleeping? You know you need proper sleep in your condition, my darling rose.” Your husband lectured you, tiredly fumbling to untie his tie.

You decided to do what LIvia suggested. Wait for your husband and confront him. So, when he shuffles into your room, a sight for sore eyes, with the nerve to lecture you about being up, you lost it.

Your eyes narrowed at the president as you snipped out, “Coriolanus, I know you're cheating on me. Who is she? Is it Clemensia Dovecote or somebody else?”

Pulling his tie off and tossing it to the side, he looked at you as if you had lobsters crawling out of your head. You’re accusing him of having an affair. Seriously?

“With how I’m spread too thin, darling, where would I ever find the time for an affair?” Coriolanus chuckled.

He thought this was funny, oh how dare he!

“This isn't funny, Coriolanus! You're coming and going at all hours; we never sleep together anymore. Who is she?!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, watching your husband unbutton his waistcoat and take it off.

The platinum blonde’s long fingers numbly unbuttoned his shirt. His tone was flat and tired as he gave you the blunt answer of, “The she that's taking all of my attention off of you, my love, is the shaky finances of Panem and the Hunger Games.”

All of the air was knocked out of your lungs upon hearing your husband's words. All you could do was blink. “What?” you whispered in disbelief.

Coryo's shirt hit the floor, in the pile his red waistcoat and tie was in. Toeing out of his shoes, he sighed, “Being president and passing the baton for the games to an under qualified head gamemaker, unfortunately, has taken up all my time.” Unbuckling his belt and pulling down his deep crimson pants, he offered up a sincere apology of, “I’m sorry, my darling rose, that my neglect made you think, even for a moment, that I’m being unfaithful to you.” His pants pooled around his long, pale legs, and he gracefully stepped out of them. “Y/N, I truly did not mean for you to feel such a way, my love.”

Watching your husband pull off his socks and toss them to the side, you cried tears of joy. “I forgive you; I'm just happy that it's work taking up your attention and not some whore.”

Coriolanus tiredly made his way over to the king-sized bed you shared and climbed into it. Pulling you into his arms, he let out a puzzled scoff of, “Clemmie? Really, of all people to accuse me of having an affair with it's her?”

“I didn't accuse you of cheating with her; that was actually Livia this afternoon when I told her that I suspected you of having an affair.” You informed your husband as he pulled the blankets over the both of you.

“You told that bitch you thought I was cheating on you?!” Coryo exclaimed, his nostrils flaring; baby blues wide in utter horror.

“Don't call Livia a bitch, Coriolanus.” You reprimanded your husband, only to remind him that, “She's my best friend.”

“I don't know how you're best friends with that shrew, darling.” Coriolanus mumbled mostly to himself, even though you heard him. His large, calloused hand rubbed your ever growing baby bump softly. “Telling Livia your ill founded fears was a mistake. She'll just tell that political reject husband of her’s; he'll be calling up Capitol News 6 with a juicy insider story about the unfaithful president.” Coryo’s tongue popped angrily. “My fake affair’s going to be the the main news headliner tomorrow morning, my darling rose.”

“No, it won't, Coryo.” You assured your husband since you had too much faith in your best friend.

Your husband on the other hand didn't have faith in Livia Cardew-Heavensbee, at all. No, he didn't trust her after the temper tantrum she through when her mother informed her that he was courting you, General Prometheus Byzantine’s step-daughter, and had refused to meet with the Cardews regarding a money match.

Coriolanus never told you about that because he didn't want to taint your friendship with the dirty blonde shrew, who only married Hilarious because she couldn't have him: the adoptive heir to the Plinths fortune.

But now maybe it was time to tell you. Maybe it was time to taint and ruin a girlhood friendship of yours.

Only to ensure that you wouldn't trust anyone that didn't carry the Snow name.

Yes, the only people you could trust were him and Tigris. He was even leery about Tigris’ new lover, Aleka. Eh, but that was because his spies haven't been able to dig up enough information on them for the president to decide whether or not they were trustworthy.

But, he's sure that after he tells you the truth about Livia that you'll be rethinking that friendship.

And when (not if) that article hits the news as the big headliner, he'll make sure to invite Hilarious over for drinks.

Drinks that only one of them will enjoy.

Snow lands on top and he'll make sure that anybody who slanders his good name or makes you believe he's an unfaithful man, when he's actually the most devoted and faithful husband in all of Panem, chokes on their own blood.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen , @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

#answered asks #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo snow fanfiction #suspected cheating #president snow #president!Coriolanus Snow

[gay-dorito-dust]

for soft!Jason: a Jason who caresses you like you're precious, hands cradling your face, sweet forehead kisses whenever he can, and his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand whenever he's holding it

I’m adding onto this because it’s just utter perfection 🦦

Jason -once becoming accommodated to touch- will always want to be touching you as much as possible because he finds that to be an simple but effective way of showing you that he cared about you. Jason believed that words can only go so far and while he does verbally let you know how he felt about you with sweet words and cute nicknames but just generally prefers the lingering touches and featherlight caresses of the cheek even more.

Whenever he needed to get something Jason would hold onto your waist as he passed you by, squeezing your waist and or caressing it, but once he has what he needed -like a mug- his hand will remain on your waist; sometimes pulling you along with him as he goes about making himself a drink with his free hand. Yet he hesitates in pulling his hand away from you as though the thought of being away from you for prolonged periods of time was its own form of punishment, and in the end he had to force himself to pull away.

Even if you’re in a room with loads of space for the pair of you to indulge in your own thing without being in each others way, Jason will a hundred percent of the time choose to sit next to you on the couch, book in hand, but would sit close enough where you were practically pressed up against the side of him. His thigh would needily push against your own now and then as he continues to read, and he would even smile softly whenever he felt you respond to his silent request to feel you in kind by pushing your knee against his own, keeping it there for the remainder of the day.

It wouldn’t be too far of a reach to say that Jason would even place his hand on your thigh when given the chance, running his thumb against it along with the occasional reassuring squeeze here and there, a gentle reminder that he was always going to be there for you whenever you may need him. You’ve been a reassuring figurehead in his current life up till now and he feels as though it was time he payed that forward.

You are a once in a lifetime for Jason, like lightning in a bottle if you will, and he didn’t want to ever fuck that up. Ever. And he’s afraid that one day he would inevitably loose you, whether it be because of himself or outside forces taking you away from him; So he’s clinging onto you tightly for as long as he was allowed to do so.

He needed to have you within his vicinity, not just out of protection, but also out of his need to get it through his head that you were in fact real, that you just as much made of flesh and bone as he was. Gotham didn’t produce upstanding citizens or anyone with as much light as you but he thanked whoever sent you his way because he wasn’t about to ruin everything and scare you away in the end.

You were all he needed for a happy life.

So imagine his face when upon waking from a nightmare and drenched in sweat, Jason’s first reaction was to reach for you for comfort in knowing that you were there, only for his hand to hit thin air; He’s in a panic now and his thoughts weren’t doing him any favours as he tore through the apartment, looking for signs that you were okay and not been taken away from under him.

Now imagine his surprise and relief upon seeing you in the kitchen as you make yourself a midnight snack. Jason apparently felt so much relief that he just takes you by surprise as he tightly hugs you from behind, his head quickly burrowed into your neck as he inhaled your scent and his arms tightened on your waist, squeezing you as though you’d disappear if he were to ever let go; He’s already been through too much but for some reason the thought of loosing you entirely would’ve only proven to push poor Jason over the edge.

‘Jaybirdie?’ You asked while holding onto his arms, ‘are you okay? Did something happen?’

‘You weren’t there when I woke up.’ Was all he said and it was more than enough for your heart to break in two. So you raised one of his hands and pressed a kiss against the back of it before allowing it to latch back onto your waist.

‘I’m sorry baby. I was just making myself a snack, had I known I wouldn’t have thought of leavening the bed.’ You replied, moving your hand so that you could run your fingers through his hair in hopes of reminding him that you were still here, still by his side and most importantly; alive.

‘It’s fine, just as long as I know you’re okay I’ll be fine.’ Jason replied. ‘I just thought- no, never mind like you said, you’re here and that’s all that matters.’ He quickly adds on but you moved to look at him and held his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks with care as you leant your forehead against his as you closed your eyes. ‘You thought I’d left…didn’t you?’

Jason let out on uneven sigh, his arms tightened at your waist as he tried to press himself even further against you as though how close you were wasn’t enough. ‘Yes.’ He whispered his response. ‘For the first time in my life I have never felt so fucking scared of something so dear to me.’ You pressed a couple of comforting kisses across his nose, forehead, cheeks and lips before reassuming your previous position. ‘I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay and that should be enough.’ You told him, rubbing your nose softly against his.

Jason sighed, finally somewhat calm from before. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry I just-‘

‘Don’t apologise for having a nightmare. I’m not going to hold it against you for being human.’ You cut him off, looking deep into his eyes as he stared back, looking a little lost and defeated. ‘Would you like to go back to bed or stay like this for a little while longer?’ You asked, wanting Jason to make the choice rather then choose one for him.

Jason grunts as he burrowed his head into your shoulder, his form practically being slumped over you as your body acted as his sole form of support. ‘Staying here with you sounds nice.’ He murmurs as he pressed a few kisses against your neck. You smiled fondly and stroked his disheveled hair, midnight snack long forgotten as something much more important took precedence; keeping Jason safe.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfiction

[honeybeefae]

Quiet as a Mouse (Azriel x Reader)

Summary// You had been sent by your father to go sift through Azriel’s room in the Court of Nightmares to see if there was anything useful they could use against him. It went against your morals, which was rare in your court, but you also didn’t want to be tortured for the next week so you decided to go in and out quickly. However, the last thing you expected was for the Shadowsinger to be there and catch you right after his shower.

(IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING BUT I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN THIS ONE LOVES. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did bc sheesh it’s a hot one. This is like no fluff whatsoever, just pure fucking sex from the Spymaster.)

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, slight dub!con(?), Az gives her a choice between sex and torture so, but reader DEF wants the sex, bondage, pet names, dom!Azriel, sub!reader, Az’s got a lil sadistic side of him, edging, rough sex, shadow play, dark!Azriel, begging, knife play, this is like DARK but SO hot, you have been warned

You had been sent to sift through the Shadowsinger’s room in the Court of Nightmares. It wasn’t that you wanted to, you were terrified of him. No, you were here under threat of torture from your own family.

They were desperate to find some dirt, some stain, about Rhysand and his group to use against them. It was a foolish, stupid plan that you were extremely against but your opinion did not matter to them. The only thing that did was how quiet you could move around and be near undetectable.

Keir was in cahoots with the whole plan and had even given you a pathway to get to the secluded area. Of course, he would reap some of the benefits of whatever you were able to find, no good deed goes without a greedy hand to snatch half of it.

You had been promised that the Shadowsinger would be gone when you arrived, busy with torture or maiming or whatever it is the illusive man did in his spare time. Rhysand and Feyre were busy with Keir in the great hall and seeing as you were as memorable as a vase in a far corner, this plan should be foolproof.

So why were your palms sweating and your heart racing as if you were running against the clock of your death?

“Come on, come on.” You whispered to yourself, trying your best to be quick and neat. The last thing you wanted was for him to suspect someone had been here. “Something. Anything. Please.”

But there was nothing of substance. The drawers were full of clothes and sheaths. The desk in the corner was bare bones. It was almost eerie how clean this room was.

You had been in here for far too long and with one final look around, you decided to throw in the towel. There was nothing here for you to expose. Surely your family would understand, right? They couldn’t kill you.

Just as you were walking across the room to the door, a loud slam reverberated around you. It suddenly got a few degrees warmer and you were so terrified that you felt like you were going to wet yourself.

Steam rolled past, fogging up the mirror slightly that was in front of you. It took everything in your power not to scream as you made eye contact with a very wet and shirtless Illyrian.

His wings were slightly open, water droplets hitting the floor as a white towel hung loosely over his hips. You couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking downwards at his stomach, briefly admiring his beauty before moving back up to his face.

Immediately you were drawn into the mysterious air around him, your eyes captivated by the shadows that were curling around his shoulders and neck. The tattoos that marked his skin were an inky black that paired well with his tan skin.

You tensed when a small smirk graced his face, his head tilting to the side as he studied you.

“Can I help you, little mouse?”

Fuck.

“Yes, I mean, no,” You quickly scrambled for words, sweat forming on your forehead as you slowly backed away from his intimidating form. “I was in the wrong room, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s funny considering this is the only room in this hallway.” He mused, raising an eyebrow as his scarred hands tightened their hold on his towel. “Lie better.”

“I was, I swear.” You gulped, your back hitting the door as your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. A brief thought of it bursting through your ribcage flashed across your mind as you grasped the door handle and turned it. “I’ll just leave.”

You barely got an arm out the door before something dark and heavy wrapped around your waist and yanked you back inside. The scream that ripped out of your throat was quickly smothered as a hand covered your mouth, your eyes widening in terror when Azriel’s face appeared inches from your own.

He had used his shadows to pull you back in and shove you into the wall, the coolness of them making your skin prickle. You could see the sadistic glint in his eyes as he took you in, eyes running unabashedly over your body. 

“You know better than to run, mouse.” Azriel hummed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “What were you doing in my room?”

The nausea building in your stomach from your nerves was threatening to turn into vomit as you weighed your options. If you tell him the truth and he spares you, he would go after your family, but if you lied it was sure to be torture from him and you knew the stories did not lie.

“My patience is growing thin. Answer me.” He warned and you mumbled into his hand, taking a deep breath when he removed it so you could speak. 

“My father sent me here to find something to use against you, I don’t know what.” You confessed, voice wobbling, as tears sprang in the corner of your eyes. “They told me if I didn’t do it they would torture me, sell me off, and I was scared. Please, please don’t hurt me.”

If you were supposed to feel shame in begging for your life there was none. You would get on your knees and kiss his feet if it meant you didn’t die with a blade in your chest. Azriel stared into your eyes for far too long, trying to see if there was any hint of a lie, and stepped back when he saw no deception.

Your hands caught you as you fell to your knees, head hanging down as you silently thanked the Mother that he let you go. It was a miracle you hadn’t pissed yourself from how close to death you were. You tried to rise but frowned when you found yourself still bound by his shadows, your head snapping up to watch him in confusion.

“Did you think you would get off that easy?” He asked smugly. “You broke into my room, my refuge, and went through my things. Do you not think that warrants a punishment?”

Whatever happiness you had just been feeling came crashing down. You shouldn’t have been so naive in thinking he would just let you go free. Azriel’s entire reputation was built off of torture, pain, and sadism. 

The room seemed to be closing in on you as you bit down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to make it home, you were going to die for something so fucking stupid. This was how it ended.

“Just make it quick.” You said softly, shoulders slumping in defeat. “That’s all I ask.”

Silence was heavy in the air for a few tense seconds before his laughter made you jump. You furrowed your brows at him, shocked and angry that he thought your life was something to laugh at. 

“Do you think I am going to kill you? Is that what you consider a punishment?” His hazel eyes were bright with humor as your frown deepened.

“I just thought-”

Without warning you were suddenly lifted by his shadows so that you were at eye level, his lips turned upward in a smirk that made your heart hammer and sex throb. Now is not the time. 

“I’m not going to kill you, little mouse. I’ve got a far more…pleasurable idea of torture in mind.” He purred, watching as your eyes immediately dropped to the growing erection that his towel was barely concealing. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk, can’t think, can’t do anything besides say, ‘yes sir’.”

Your nostrils flared as he snaked a hand through your hair and grabbed the base of your neck, his lips brushing against your own. The scent of arousal was thick as you suppressed a moan. He had just gone from threatening your life to wanting to wreck you in seconds, your mind trying to play catch up.  

“You will be bound, gagged, and used for my pleasure. That’s your punishment…if you want it.” Azriel shrugged, his jaw tensing. “Or I could turn you into your High Lord and he can decide. Which would you rather do?”

“I…” Your voice was airy as you slowly got high on his scent, logic walking out the door as you swallowed thickly. “I want the first one.”

“Which one? I want you to say it.” He growled, his grip on your hair tightening painfully. 

“I want you to, to fuck me, sir.” You blushed, not used to using such filthy language. “To bound me and gag me and use me, as you said.”

Azriel’s smile turned feral as his shadows let you go, his hands catching you before you could fall. You were sure there would be bruises from his grip as he whispered, “You asked for it, little mouse.”

Before you could even ready yourself his lips were on yours, his mouth hot and demanding as you bent to his whim. One of his hands was digging into your upper arm while the other grabbed the base of your neck, holding you still so he could dominate you. 

His tongue mingled with your own as you closed your eyes and tried to hold yourself together. You were still shaking from fear but slowly your panties were growing more and more damp from how good he smelled and tasted. No male in the Court of Nightmares had ever made you this wet this quickly.

You sneakily tried to move your hand to palm his cock through the towel but his shadows caught you before you could even touch him, the cool mist tightening around your wrists until you whimpered in pain. Azriel clicked his tongue and shook his head, snapping his fingers and pointing at the ground.

Before you could register his command the shadows already forced you into the position he wanted, your knees aching when they hit the floor as your hands were moved behind your back and kept together at an uncomfortable angle.

“You must be mad if you think you have any control in this bedroom.” Azriel murmured as he brushed his scarred knuckles against your cheek softly, smirking when you leaned into the touch. In a flash he gripped your hair into a makeshift ponytail, enjoying the way you winced then gasped as he dropped the towel. “I own you. You do as I say when I say it. Every flinch of pain, every whimper of pleasure, it’s mine You’re mine. Now open.”

The sight of his cock standing proudly in front of you, the skin the same color as the rest of him with a dark pink head that was already wet from his excitement, made you drool. It was long, longer than you had ever had, with a nice girth to it that promised you the fuck of your life. You had barely registered his words until he grasped it in his hands and slapped it against your mouth roughly, smearing the precum on your lips until you opened wide.

Azriel wasted no time in shoving it down your throat, using your hair as leverage to move you back and forth until he was fucking your mouth. There was no gentle build-up, no praises. It was just raw and hard, his balls slapping against your chin as you gagged and slobbered over him.

“Fuck, that’s it, little mouse. Take it all the way down.” He growled, head thrown back in utter bliss as you were forced to take everything he gave you. Tears were wetting your cheeks from both the brutality of his thrusts and the angle of your hands. 

But this was also the hottest thing you had ever experienced…and he was only getting started. 

You were squirming from side to side in need, trying to get any friction you could to curb the ache deep in your sex. Your tongue swirled around his dick whenever he stilled long enough for you to do so, tasting the saltiness of him and feeling pride when he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. 

His wings flared as he started to draw closer to his peak, your throat sore and scalp numb from how violent he was treating you. The sounds coming out of you were something you would hear in a brothel, spit dripping down your chin as you tried to keep your eyes on his face.

He was using you as his fucktoy, purely for his pleasure, and you were happy to let him. This started as a way out of getting your throat slit but as the minutes passed on he had you drunk off of him and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Mm, shit,” He panted, hazel eyes glowing in the dark of the room as his thrusts started to grow sloppy. “You’re gonna drink every last drop of what I give you, understand? I don’t want any spilling out.”

“Mmph!” You tried to nod, barely able to make a sound as Azriel growled low in his throat as he began to spurt into your mouth. It was a lot, more than you expected, but you drank it down just as he asked. The taste was tangy, a mix you couldn’t quite place but you weren’t complaining about. 

He held you still for a few moments after he was done, his cock twitching back to life as you struggled to breathe. You felt your binds vanish at the same time he pulled out of your throat, your hands hitting the floor as you coughed violently and tried to gulp down any air you could. 

It was a short-lived respite however as he hoisted you up and pushed you roughly onto his bed. The covers were midnight black and soft as velvet, the material feeling heavenly underneath your fingers as you grasped onto it when he appeared above you in a flash. 

“I think you are overdressed.” He smiled roguishly, moving away from you for a moment before reappearing with his blade. Your heart skipped a beat as he pressed the tip against your throat, fear and adrenaline making your head spin. “This should help.”

The dagger sliced through your clothing like it was better. There was little resistance and in the back of your mind, you thought about how easy it would be for him to slice you into ribbons. Your breath hitched when he arrived at your pants, choosing instead to roll them off himself.

You were now naked on the bed save for your panties, your nipples hardening underneath his stare. He was giving nothing away and you would’ve thought you weren’t affecting him except for the fact his dick was once again hard. Azriel licked his lips and grabbed his blade once more, watching you with a sadistic glint in his eyes as he hooked the top of your panties with the edge of it. 

A small whimper of fear left your throat, your eyes closing as you felt him tug. One wrong move and he would mutilate you. He gave an airy laugh at your reaction, raising an eyebrow as he kept the dagger close to your cunt even after discarding your panties.

“Are you scared, little mouse?” Azriel asked, watching as your eyes peeked open at him. He twirled the blade between his fingers, contemplating, before looking back at you. “Are you?”

“No…”

“Don’t lie to me. I already warned you once.”

Your hands trembled as you gave him a small nod, eyes widening when he took the hilt of his dagger and dragged it down your sex. The cool metal and leather gave you a unique sensation that made you involuntarily buck your hips, the friction giving you exactly what you’d been craving since this whole thing had begun.

“Careful, careful, little mouse.” He warned as he started to rub small circles over your clit. The sheets underneath you were quickly becoming wet from your arousal as you got off on the feeling of lust and fear. “One wrong move and this could go a completely different way.”

“P-Please,” You whispered, your eyes closing as you tried your best to keep your hips still. “I need it, I’ve been so good.”

He scoffed and pulled away, ignoring your cry of frustration. “You broke into my room, looking for something to use against me, and you think you deserve any pleasure?”

You knew he had a point but you also knew you really, really, wanted to cum. Azriel must have thought that you looked a mess because he returned the blade to your cunt within a few seconds except he went lower, and lower, until it was pushing against your aching hole.

Before you could rise up you felt his shadows return and hold your arms down just as he shoved the entire leather hilt into your pussy, the cool metal of the actual blade barely brushing against your outer sex. You didn’t know whether you should try to get away or fully submit that this was what you wanted, what you craved, but luckily for you, that choice was already being made for you.

Azriel had taken note of how desperate you were being, the way you tried to hump the floor earlier when you were blowing him, and also how you ground against the bottom of his dagger. It didn’t take much to make you a mewling mess and that did wonders for his ego. 

“You are going to stay perfectly still.” He ordered you, lazily thrusting it in and out of you. It was making a wet squelching sound that made your ears go hot in embarrassment. “If you move at all this will cut you and I won’t apologize.”

“Azriel…” You moaned, your brain fuzzy as your tried to listen to his instruction. He smirked and picked up the pace, watching as you thrashed your head left and right. “I can’t do it, I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” His voice was dripping with authority and desire as he started to rub your clit with two fingers, matching the dagger movements which had you seeing white. You could feel your pussy clenching around it, wishing it was his cock instead, and before you could stop yourself you raised your hips.

The growl he let out in warning made your eyes snap open, his forearm coming down to pin you down so that you couldn’t move. You bit down on your lip, the pleasure growing to be too much, before you couldn’t contain your cries anymore.

“Let me cum, please! Please, Azriel! I’ll be good I swear! I can listen, I can be a good girl.” You rambled, your toes curling as your orgasm threatened to consume you entirely. He was making sure to keep you on the edge, making you toe the line of pleasure and pain, and was hoping you would break entirely. 

“Do you think good girls get off on being fucked like this? Hm? Do you think good girls moan like whores while being fucked with a blade?” Azriel taunted, his lips right by your ear as your cries increased in volume. “You’re not a good girl, mouse, you’re a dirty whore. You’re my dirty whore.”

“No, no, I’m a good-” You tried to protest but he gave a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, the hilt hitting that spongy spot inside of you.

“Say it. Say it and you can cum.” He promised, grinning as you immediately caved to his wishes. 

“I’m a dirty whore.” You sobbed brokenly, body flushed and sweaty from how long he had kept you on the edge. Your thighs were shaking with how badly you wanted to cum. “I’m, I’m,” You panted between words. “I’m your dirty whore, Azriel. Please.”

The last please sounded like it came from someone begging for their life and honestly, you felt like you were. You felt like if you didn’t cum in the next ten seconds you would die. Azriel gazed at you for a moment, his hand stalling, before he kissed you fiercely and fucked that blade into you at lightning speed.

Your orgasm hit you fast and hard, stealing the breath from your very lungs as you opened your mouth to scream only for his own to swallow them. Between his shadows and his arm across your stomach you were unable to move, forced to let the waves of ecstacy break your very foundation as your pussy spasmed around the hilt. 

He pulled away from the kiss and tore his dagger from your still spasming cunt, his teeth bared in a feral way as he gripped his cock tightly and slapped against you. You were still coming down from your high, barely recgonzing the change in position until he filled you up in one smooth thrust of his hips.

“Fuck!” You yelped, your walls sensitive as he fucked you like a beast. His wings were now fully extended, covering the two of you in a warm cocoon, before he surged forward and started attacking your neck with bites and harsh kisses. “Azriel, please, it’s too much!”

“You can take all of me, little mouse. This cunt was made for me.” He groaned into your neck, one of his hands coming up to start fiddling with your bundle of nerves. “Damn you’re so tight, so fucking tight and wet for me.”

You knew he was trying to force you into another orgasm but you were still recovering from your first one. Between that, the fear of the night, and how shocked you were at how much you enjoyed him fucking you with his dagger, you didn’t know if you had another one for him. It felt like you were going to burst into a million stars.

But Azriel knew you could and even if you wouldn’t…he would make sure you did so he could feel you explode around him. He would tear the world apart to feel it.

His dick was hot inside of you and just the right length to hit you g-spot repeatedly, taking you to a whole other universe of pleasure combined with his calloused fingers on your clit. Pain and pleasure were dancing with each other deep in your soul as you started to feel that familiar tingle rise up once more.

“I can feel you clenching around me. I know how bad you want this, how good of a dirty whore you want to be for me.” He grunted, his pupils blown wide as he pinched your cheeks between his fingers until your mouth was forced open. “You want it so bad, don’t you? Look at how much of a wreck you are, how fucked out you look right now.”

“Ah, ah, ple-ah!” You tried to talk but it was all garbled together from the hold he had on your face. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore but he did. He knew exactly what you needed. 

Azriel’s face twisted in bliss as his balls tightened. He was riding that wave, his wings practically vibrating, and all he needed was that last push of you coming undone around him. You gasped when he let go of your face only to scream when he buried his head in your neck and bit down. The pain of it, of his canines piercing your skin, along with the rhythmic fucking of your cunt sent you to the heavens. 

Your entire body tightened up before releasing in a full body shudder, your head thrown back in pleasure as you felt yourself squirt around his cock. Azriel barely lasted the first spasm of your pussy before spilling himself inside of you, his fingers digging into your skin so hard that bruises immediately appeared.

The world around you faded into darkness as you succumbed to the numbing rapture he had given you. You lost track of time and space, your eyes closed as you felt him continung to fuck you even as his cock softened. He slowly rose up and folded his wings, smirking as he reveled in his work.

His cum was dripping out of your abused hole, the sheets and his thighs soaked from your cum, while your face was wistful. It was probably the best fuck of his life, he couldn’t lie, and as he watched you he felt his cock stirring once more. 

Azriel couldn’t get enough of you.

Two arms wrapped underneath your armpits and lifted you up until you were resting against his warm chest, whispering praises as you floated back into your body. You blearily blinked up at him, watching as he realized you were back before his lips turned up in a smile.

“I think it’s time for the reinforcement part of the punishment, little mouse.”

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel smut acotar #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader smut #acotar smut #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #acotar reader #acotar reader smut #azriel fic #azriel fic smut #azriel x you #acotar azriel #acotar azriel smut

[spacebarbarianweird]

Soooo, tell me, do you think Astarion would be jealous or possessive at times? Do you think he gets nervous about losing his partner?

Oh, he would definteley be possessive! I think it would come out of fear. Like, what if Tav dumps him for someone better?

Thanks @brabblesblog and @rachelle-on-the-run for beta-reading!

Doubts

Synopsis: Astarion thinks you are going to leave him for someone better and accuses you of infidelity.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, a heated argument

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion can't process what he feels.

Anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Betrayal?

You stand in the sunlight, bathing in the warm rays. You smile, sincere and happy, while he stands in the shadows like the monster he is.

A man, a handsome half-elf, with long and dark hair practically dances around you like a bird during mating season. He openly flirts with you and you giggle at his jokes.

You don't try to shut him down. You smile. You laugh.

Astarion can't hear the conversation, but he is sure you wouldn't talk like that if you knew he was near.

If it was night, he could easily grab your hand and threaten this man with the daggers.

But he can't.

He is useless.

The only thing he can do is to watch. He sees you taking the man's hand and then hugging him. Warm and tight.

It's too much even for him. 

He dissapears into the tunnels below the city. When he returns to the camp, it's already dark and you light a fire.

"Astarion,good news", you tell him. "We - What is wrong?"

He looks up at you. The anger is replaced with poison.

"If you wanted to fuck someone else, you should have just said so," he mutters through the teeth.

"What?" 

You dare to look surprised. Sure, why not. You aren't less manipulative than him. Learned from a professional.

"Oh, stop with this innocent smile! You know what I’m talking about! I've seen you flirting with that man. Tell me - is his body warm? Does his back look new and perfect?"

"You followed me."

"Answer the damn questions, Tav!"

You stand up.

"That was my friend. I knew him ages ago! I just didn't expect to meet him all of a sudden!"

"Come on, any common fool could see you were all over each other. You want to sleep with him? Fine. At least, you could be so kind as to tell me beforehand. I think I deserve it."

"Astarion, stop."

Your soft voice annoys him even more. 

He bursts. It's like a firestorm, unstoppable and cruel. He yells at you, spitting all the most disgusting insults as if it can numb at least some of his pain.

A whore. A slut. A bitch.

He yells at the top of his lungs. And then suddenly…

A slap.

Loud and painful. His cheek burns of how hard you've slapped him. It sobers him up and Astarion stares at you in shock. He wishes he could take all the words away. To go back in time and make himself stop before spitting all this poison.

"Tav..."

"GO AWAY!" 

He has never heard you screaming like that. You hate him. And he deserves it.

"GO FUCKING AWAY! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"

Tears stream down your face as you sit on the ground. Your body shudders.

And Astarion runs.

He disappears into the woods. In the darkness. In the cold.

The cheek still burns. You've never gotten physical with him - except for that first time when he almost drained you. Astarion sometimes remembers how you kicked him in the ribs.

But, maybe, it's all for the best? You can find a living person to spend your life with. Because what can he even offer? His nightmares? His pain? His tainted touches?

The very thought of you in someone else’s hands makes him sick. But at the same time, what did he expect after calling you all these awful names? 

He needs to disappear, forever.

But the further he goes, the worse he feels. The invisible leash tugs him back and his undead heart bleeds. 

The very idea of not seeing you, being alone, spending this condemned eternity on his own… He would prefer being flayed by a razor rather than living a day without you.

He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl back, begging for forgiveness. The same way he did when he was a slave.

Don't beat me. Don't torture me. I will do anything.

Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. I will do anything. 

As he returns to the camp, he sees you by the fire. You notice him and turn your head away.

"Please... I am sorry... I didn't mean it."

You look at him but instead of the softness he craves there is only cold. 

The only thing he desires is to hug you, to be pressed against your chest. To hear the words of love and comfort.

But there is an invisible wall between you two.

"Please… Don't leave me!" he begs. "I can't… I don't know how to live without you."

You sigh. "Astarion, I am not leaving you. But I am angry. I am angry like all the devils of Avernus."

"Then… I am sorry! I am sorry for calling you all these words, I am sorry for..."

"No, Astarion. It won't work like that. This relationship won’t work. "

Astarion is taken aback. "Then what do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. But you need to understand that I have feelings, too."

Silence. Astarion is motionless.

"You are apologizing out of fear." you continue. "Because you’re used to expecting violence. I want you to apologize out of honesty. You hurt me. You accused me of infidelity. You called me all these slurs people used against you, perfectly knowing how much that hurts. You offended my friend, the person I grew up with, someone who I thought was dead. The person who gave me a very good contract just because I asked. For that, I need you to apologize."

You both are silent. Astarion looks somewhere in the distance. 

"Listen, Tav, you know I am like that. I can’t control it."

"You do! That's the thing. You were infantilized for two hundred years. But you are a man. You are not a boy, not a pet, not a slave. You don't need to be trained or taught. You are a man. And you must learn to be responsible for your actions. I understand why you are like that. But it doesn't mean I have to allow you to say anything you want."

The words hurt like daggers when he finally manages to say them out loud.

"I am sorry. I am sorry for thinking you could leave me. I am sorry for hurting you. My emotions took the best of me. I am afraid, I am constantly afraid. I am afraid you will leave me for what I am."

A touch. Soft and delicate. He feels like crying the moment your tender fingers caress his skin.

"And I am sorry for getting physical. I shouldn't have slapped you."

"I deserved it"

"No one deserves beatings. Especially, from their loved ones." 

You press your forehead against his. "You aren't an easy person to deal with, Astarion. But I knew it from the beginning. When you confessed to me, I had a chance to stop it. I didn't do it. Because I love you. But I am a living breathing person and if you hurt me, I bleed. "

He nods. "But if you ever want to end all this - "

"I won't"

He smiles and presses his finger against your lips. "If you ever decide it's too much, tell me. Just be honest. "

You wrap your hands around his neck and tug him close. "You know, when he hugged me, my first thought was "damn, his skin is so uncomfortably hot". And he told me we should stop it because his husband is jealous. I think they are having a very uncomfortable conversation right now."

You sit together in silence looking at the campfire. Soon, Astarion notices a stripe of light in the distance and his vampiric senses send a shiver down his spine.

You yawn.

"Let's get some rest. Astarion, I hate asking for reciprocation, but since you probably want to make amends…"

"What do you want, my sweet?"

"Can you please not leave my side while I sleep? Just be with me till I wake up."

He closes his eyes and lets out a short laugh. And this is your idea of making amends? A few hours ago he would beg you to let him touch you, let alone cuddle with you.

He cocks his head. "Only if you make amends for slapping me."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to be the little spoon."

--

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[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Four: in another life

Rafe Cameron x reader

Chapter 4: in another life

Note: Here's part four!! I'm still crying over TTPD. Down bad is so incredibly Rafeit's insane. Anyway!! I love you all so much, thank you for reading and being absolutely wonderful. This part covers the smau up until part 26. Good luck soldiers!!

Warnings: none, not edited, angst, swearing, sadness, julio, mentions of drugs, mentions of suicidal ideation.

Word Count:  6,722

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

Chapter 4: in another life 

It’s a nightmare. Everything feels off. The walls are caving in. His mouth feels as if he had chewed on cotton balls for the past hour. It’s spinning. He’s lost control of himself and he doesn’t know how he’ll get it back. 

It started because of the thought of them together. Forever. Married. Having kids and living happily ever after clawed and his chest and ate him from the inside out. It was an ugly feeling. He wanted to be happy for her. There was no way he could be. Not when he was so deeply in love with her. Not that he ever stopped. 

It was just one blunt. He stole it from Barry. He was careful not to disturb any of the other drugs he had in there. Careful not to look at them too long. He’s been good. Has been clean for more than two years without any missteps. And here he is high once again. It’s just weed he tells himself. It’s fine. He’s fine. 

They’re about to go onstage when Sofia loses her mind. She goes absolutely ballistic. He’s pulling her off to the side away from prying eyes.

“Stop. Relax. Let me explain.” Everything comes out in a jumble as he’s trying to balance his damn guitar and get her to stop flailing her arms everywhere. 

“There’s no explaining anything. We are over. We are so done, Rafe. Holy shit I cannot believe I put up with your crazy obsession with your friend who by the way you didn’t even date. You’re insane.” 

“Can you calm down for a second?”

“No! For your information Rafe. She doesn’t want you! She’s moved on! And we could have too but no. You’re here still pining over something that doesn’t exist. You are so incredibly disrespectful to me. I have been nothing but supportive of you. And I have put up with so much shit from you so much hatred because what? Did I take you away from her? You chose me! You left her. And now I’m leaving you.” 

“Sofia-“

“The way you have treated me the last couple of months with your album release and hinting that it’s about her? Do you have any idea how that makes me look? How it makes me feel? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh! Sorry! You and her! And barely even yourself, you know how I know?” She looks at him, volcanic ash in her eyes. “Because you’re fucking high right now!”

“Keep your voice down.” He pulls her deeper into the corner they’re standing in.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I loved you. I did. I thought that once she moved on, we would be okay. I was wrong. Do not sabotage this for her. She’s happy. You’re not good enough for her. And not for me.”

She does a 180 and storms off away from backstage and away from him. He looks up and Topper is staring at him from where he stands beside Sarah, her hand is on his arm, a look of concern on her face. He shakes his head at them and turns to the stairs that lead to the stage. He spots Y/N and Julio, they’re talking quietly to each other, he sees her laugh and touch Julio’s face, and he kisses the palm of her hand.

Fuck this. He runs back to the green room. He knows he left it around here somewhere and he knows where the lighters are. He digs through three of Barry’s jackets before he finds the blunt. Barry must have moved it. When he pulls it out, a plastic baggie with four white pills comes up with it. He thinks about putting them back. He wants to put them back. He hears the 5-minute warning, stuffs the baggie in his jeans and runs to find a lighter. 

+++

There’s something off about Rafe. She notices when they begin their second song. He’s swaying more than usual, coming up and singing to her face a little too closely. 

It must be because they’re trying to be friends. And maybe the fight with Sofia. It was pretty nasty the way she went at him. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, the crowd and music drowning them out. Sofia looked upset. She must have cooled off because she’s in the audience standing next to Sarah. Not that their manager would allow her to leave even if she wanted to. It would cause too much speculation online and that’s something they don’t need more of. 

She hasn’t had to protect Julio from how Rafe and her used to act on stage, during their no-talking years, they still put on an act but it was nowhere near the level of how they acted pre-everything. They were pretty heavy on the PDA, without confirming anything of course. It was more like singing into each other's mics while staring longingly into each other’s eyes. A lot of heavy petting, she would drape herself around Rafe, Rafe would swing her around and carry her. They would practically make out on stage every show. They did everything but have sex. It’s no wonder the theories and rumours started. 

Post everything that went down, they tamed it and kept it to their side of the stage unless they were switching over. They didn’t share a mic and looking at each other too long was off-limits. And now, well now, it looks like Rafe wants to sing into her mouth with the way he gets closer and closer. Julio knows about their past and he knows that she would never do anything to hurt him but this is a little much. She doesn’t want to rub anything in his face or make him feel disrespected. She also can’t diss Rafe on stage. They have an act. They’re all best friends and nothing bad has ever happened between them. 

So she plays along. And she sings into his mic, she whips her hair in his face and he sings over her shoulder. They’re closer than they’ve ever been. This should be a fun one to look at online. At some point, her shirt comes off. She’s a little angry at Rafe’s immediate switch-up. She feels that since they’re just figuring out how to be friends, he could give it a rest and not go all out. So her shirt comes off. It got stuck on the mic stand, she got pissed off that it ripped a little and she took it off, throwing it into the crowd. At some point Rafe is not even fully on the stage anymore, he’s lying down looking up at her as he plays his guitar. She’s standing over him, singing into the mic and playing the bass all while wondering what the hell has gotten into him. 

Security is going insane over Rafe hanging off the stage and people are trying to grab his legs. Sarah is diving into the crowd trying to get a shot of what’s happening on stage. She kind of wants the show to be over but at the same time, it’s the most fun she’s had on stage in a while. 

+++

Trying to find their footing after not being friends for three years, that much is clear. One moment he’s trying to make out with her onstage and the next he can barely look at her. It has been a little bit harder than she thought it would be. 

It’s strangely painful. The realization that they can’t go back to how they were before anything happened. She knew it wouldn’t be easy but these awkward silences might kill her. 

She’s sitting between Topper and Rafe, staring directly at Barry’s bored face as Ash explains who kows what. Something about which celebrities and important label heads are coming to tonight’s show. 

She didn’t care about the label heads. One of their most important shows had been the one two days ago. Their friends had all flown in from different places to see them. Now back in the city she calls home, that’s still all that matters. 

Cleo and Pope flew in from New York, John B and JJ had flown in from Hawaii. JJ would be leaving almost immediately after to continue training for the next big surf competition and John B would be staying at Sarah’s. Julio was at her house, she didn’t want him to have to spend the entire day at rehearsals so she told him to come by when he was ready. Ward was around somewhere too, probably with Sarah and John B. Kelce was at his hotel and would be arriving later with Kie after he got her from the airport, the only one that had missed the last show. It was an important show for them because of their people not because of some random celebrity they didn’t know. 

After the show, they would go to one of their favourite bars to celebrate and then she would be off to North Carolina for a week before moving to Madrid for the foreseeable future.

She was so excited to be there a bit before Julio started filming so they could visit his friends and family. 

After Ash is done running them through the guest list, they have some downtime before their private soundcheck and the fan soundcheck. Fan Soundcheck is her favourite because they get to play some deep cuts and answer some fun questions.

They’re standing backstage as one of their stagehands announces they’ll be out in three minutes. They’re standing in a circle making sure that their in-ears are on. Barry and Topper bickering about some random thing.

“Ready, buddy?” She looks at Rafe, her eyebrow raised as Barry laughs. 

“Buddy? Good one.” Topper laughs as Rafe’s face turns red. 

“Okay yeah, I’ll never say that again.”

“Please,” she laughs, “let’s go.” She leads the guys onto the stage as their fans start screaming. 

They play a song right off the bat and then sit down for a few questions. 

Everything is going fine, the mood is great, they’re all vibing with each other on stage, it’s great. Right up until it’s not. 

“Hi, my name is Sammy, my question is for Y/N.” She smiles at the girl and waves. 

“Hi Sammy, I remember you! You saw our last show too,” she speaks into the microphone. 

“Hi! Oh my goodness yes. I drove here from San Francisco after getting tickets last minute.” The girl rambles. “Okay, so I was wondering, what are you most looking forward to doing on your break?” She mulls over the question before answering. 

“I’m going to be semi-moving to Spain for a while so probably just exploring the city.” Sammy nods and thanks her as the mic is passed to the next person.  

Something shifts on stage after that question. She doesn’t know if she missed something or what, but suddenly the mood is tense. Barry’s in between her and Rafe and she can still feel the tension coming off him in waves. 

After the last question, they played one more song and bid the fans goodbye, telling them they would see them in a few hours for the show. 

Barry goes and does whatever Barry does before a show, Rafe storms off and Topper follows him. She looks over at her guitar tech who just shrugs his shoulders and takes her guitar from her. 

She texts Julio asking when he will be getting to the arena. When she doesn’t receive an answer, she sits in the green room, with no idea where the boys are. 

She dozes off for an hour before her phone blows up with texts from Rafe. She opens Julio’s message first, telling her that he would leave her house in an hour. Then she goes to Rafe’s texts, saying something along the lines of needing to talk to her. She sees that she has notifications from Twitter as well and opens those. From Rafe too. 

“I need you”

“Please don’t go”

“Y/N”

What is he doing? They just talked about trying to be friends, she knows about his feelings but he can’t go around blowing up her phone. He’s just sad about Sofia, how could he expect her to stay after he confessed to her that he still had feelings for his ex who wasn’t really his ex? 

She asks him what he’s doing and he asks to meet her. She tells him no, and that it’s too late to d this. Too late in the day, too late because the show is about to start, and too late because she’s going and she doesn’t want him. 

After telling Cleo to haul ass to the arena. Needing to speak to her about the Rafe of it all. She runs to the bus to hide. She doesn’t want to see him so she’ll avoid the arena. 

She doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t find her inside, he’ll look for her on the bus. 

“Y/N?” She hears him call. She’s in her bunk, curtain drawn and holding her breath. He walks closer and stands in front of her bunk. She can see his shadow. 

“I know you’re in there.” She stays quiet still. “Please talk to me.” She sighs, not able to deny him when he sounds so sad. 

She draws the curtain open and meets his eyes. 

“We talked about this.”

“No, we talked about how I would try to be your friend. Not how you’re going to move away with your boyfriend.”

“What did you expect me to do? Sit at home alone for however long the break ends up being?”

“No, I thought we could hang out when we were both home and repair our friendship or whatever.”

“Rafe, I can’t do that. I won’t put my life on hold for you anymore.”

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just feel the same way? Why won’t you love me?” 

She’s surprised by his words. For the first time, she looks at him. Takes in his dishevelled appearance, his jittering hands, and the dilation of his pupils. 

“Are you high?” she swings herself off her bed to get as much distance between them as possible. 

“No.” He’s lying. 

“What the fuck Rafe? Why would you do this to yourself?”

“Because I’m fucking sad okay? And I don’t want to feel anything.” She can’t believe he would go down this road again,  after being clean for so long. She can’t believe he would be around her like this. Not when he knows how many bad memories it brings.

“You have to leave. You have to get away from me.”

“Y/N.” His voice cracks.

“No. You know my history, the shit I have been through because of drugs. You know it very well actually. I don’t need to be around your erratic behaviour. It’s triggering, it hurts me.” Her voice is firm. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” he backs up turning around quickly and storming off the bus. 

She sits back down, her hands slightly shaking. If he’s using again, she doesn't know if she can have him in her life. 

+++

He’s happy Sarah’s the one that finds him. He’s spread out on the floor. The curtain covers him from the fans' curious eyes. The stage is quiet, with only a few people coming and going. The rest of the crew’s at dinner. 

“What are you doing?” She stares from above him.

“Laying.” He mumbles

“Are you not going to come eat dinner?” She points behind her in the direction of the lunch room.

“Not hungry.”

“What’s wrong?

“Sad.” He sees the annoyance at his one-word answers cross her face. 

“Rafe, full sentences please.”

“Y/N told me to go away. That she couldn’t be around me.” She crouches down next to him. 

“I thought you two were trying to be friends?” she questions. 

“I ruined it.” He can feel himself well up. 

“How?”

“By being high.”

“You are not.” she kneels left to him now, grabbing his face roughly and bringing it so his eyes are aligned with hers. 

“I am.” She looks angry at him. He feels tears start to gather. God, why does he make the women he cares most about in his life so upset?

“You can’t be high. You’re an addict.”

“Just weed. Nothing more.”

“I don’t care if it’s just weed. It’s not just weed for you. It’s a slippery slope. You go from weed to forgetting you’re sober, to cocaine.”

“I’m sorry.” The pity in her look makes his stomach twist.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up before the show. You need food and to sober up.”

“I’ll be sad though.” She stands up, extending her hand out for him to take. 

“You’re high and sad, I don’t think it helped.”

“That’s what the cocaine is for.” He jokes, it doesn’t earn him a laugh, just a scowl.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Maybe he can get drunk after the show, then he’ll forget how sad he is. 

+++

The show goes off without a hitch. They are all smiles, dripping with sweat as they take the final bow of the tour. Tears are prickling her eyes as she looks over at Topper. His smile was big and shining. She looks at Rafe and he’s messing with Barry’s hair, a burst of laughter leaving him as Barry jumps on his back. Barry waves to the crowd as Rafe piggybacks him off. Topper grabs her hand and pulls her off the stage, waving one last time before they can’t be seen anymore. 

Julio waits for her, a huge grin on his face and his arms wide open for her to run into. Once she lets go of him, she hugs Cleo and then Pope, and then she’s tackled by JJ, Kie, and John B. 

“You all killed it!” JJ yells in her ear, making her jolt back. 

“Fucking best show we’ve ever played!” Topper screams, coming up to her and hugging her. Barry joins the hug putting his sweaty arms around them both. Rafe hesitantly joins the group hug. 

“Another successful tour,” he says, his eyes catching hers in the huddle. She smiles softly. 

“Let’s go party!” Kie screams from down the hallway where she’s started to walk away. 

Everyone starts cheering and following her lead. She finds Julio’s hand as they make their way to gather their stuff and leave the arena. 

+++

He spots Julio come in through the back doors of the club, Y/N hanging off his arm, her lips swollen. His eyes soften when he looks at her. He sees how much he loves her, and how he would never hurt her. He would go to the ends of the world for her. And he hates him. He can’t stand that she’s not hanging off his arm. That he’s not the one kissing her against a brick wall outside a sleazy bar. 

Sofia’s gone. They’re done. And he’s hurting for the relationship that he could have had if he had let go of Y/N. Not that he ever could have. It wasn’t in the cards for him. A world where he wasn’t irrevocably in love with her didn’t exist. 

“You okay?” Sarah comes up next to him, planting her hands on the table to steady herself. 

“I’m high again.” He confesses. 

“Rafe, we talked about this.”

“I get that I just can’t stop. Everything hurts.” They look of pity from earlier returns.

“You need to stop.” He looks past her to where Y/N is.

“It’s just weed.”

“You don’t get to do weed. It’s not just weed to you. Slippery slope remember?

“I know.” 

“I’m here for you. I think you need to go back to rehab. Either before you tour or after. It needs to be sooner rather than later.  I’ll drive you there myself.” She offers. 

The idea of going back to rehab irks him. He’s not as bad as he was last time. He has control over it. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

“I don’t know how to be okay watching her be with someone else.” Sarah looks behind her at Y/N with Julio. Her smile lit up the room. Her laugh was music to his ears. 

“You don’t get to break down about this. You made your choice. Let her be happy. you need to focus on staying sober, you heal, and you move on.” 

“How?” He can’t rip his eyes away from the couple. Wishing with everything in him that it was him with her.

“By being her friend, Rafe.” She pats him on the back. He watches as she follows Topper out the back door where Y/N and Julio had come through earlier. 

Everything he and Sarah talked about flies out the window when Julio of all people see him standing there with a little bag full of who knows what that Barry gave him. Barry’s drunk and high, that’s one of the only reasons he gave it to him. Barry would kill him any other time. 

He’s been toying around with the idea of just doing it. Taking all these pills and getting it over with. 

“You probably shouldn’t take those.” Rafe side glances at him but doesn’t speak.”

“If you’re doing that shit you shouldn’t be around her.” Rafe doesn’t like him and he likes him even less when he tells him if he can or can’t be around Y/N.

“Mind your business.” He barks out.

“This is my business, you know why? Because she’s my business. And she’s a recovering addict too, Rafe. Or did you forget?” He shrugs. 

“Look, I don’t care if you care about your sobriety. But we both know you care about her enough not to risk hers. So if you’re going to do that shit, don’t bring it around her. And stay away from her.” This is the angriest he has ever heard the dark-haired man. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do on my tour with my friends.”  Deep down he knows Julio’s right. Right now he doesn’t care what the man says. He wants to fight him. 

“Do whatever the hell you want with yourself, I’m asking you to please, stay away from Y/N if you’re going to do drugs.”

“So you’re isolating her now too.”

“What does that mean?” Julio looks at him, one eyebrow raised, lips tight.

“You’re going to take her away. You’re taking her away from her family and her friends, to live in a country where she knows nobody. What kind of boyfriend does that?” 

“I’m taking her away from you, right?” 

“Yeah, you are.” The words spill from him before he can even think of denying them. 

“She isn’t anyone’s to take away. She makes her own decisions and she chose to be with me.” Julio saying shit like that makes him feel like he thinks he’s the best option. The best man out there.

“Shut up. You’re not better than me just because you say that stuff.”

“I’m not better than anyone, just let her be.” He doesn’t say anything. Julio stands up.

“You had your chance. Let her go.” He stays quiet. Julio starts to walk away. 

“I can’t.” He sees as Julio’s steps stutter.

“I’m going to fight for her.” 

“There’s nothing left to fight for.” He walks away. Back into her arms. Where he wishes he could be.

+++

The two weeks back home in Kildare were filled with press and interviews. Filled with people asking them when the next album was and when they would be back. He was scheduled to go to rehab after two weeks back home but due to scheduling, they had to move his tour up. Y/N was already in Spain. She spent a bit of time with her family, made sure everything was good and then flew off to Europe, taking his heart with her.

They were okay again, he had explained that he would go to rehab and try to get himself under control again. She told him that she was proud of him and that she wished him all the best. She told him that she wouldn’t be able to make it to his first show but that she would be there for his last. She hugged him goodbye on her last day on the island and told him that he would see her soon. 

The engagement scare still circulated in his brain. He’s so afraid that she would get engaged while she was away and he would truly lose her forever. Whenever he thought about it he felt like throwing up. 

One month. One month and he would see her again. 

+++

She stayed with Julio’s family for three weeks in Madrid before they had to go to Valencia where he had to film. She liked being in Madrid the most because she knew how to get around and she could stay at Julio’s house. In Valencia, they’re staying in a hotel so she doesn’t have the comfort of her things. She’ll go to the set with him most of the time but other times they are such long shoots she’d rather do anything else. She wants to explore but she’s so directionally challenged she’s scared to get lost and never return, her map couldn’t even save her sometimes. 

Julio cooks for her every day, he teaches her how to cook some dishes he learned in his classes, they write songs together, and she runs songs by him which turns into them taking turns serenading each other. They drunkenly kiss under street lights and dance in the rain. She’s never felt happier, ever been so in love. 

A month in and she’s back in Los Angeles where Rafe’s playing his last show. She’s excited to be here for him but she’s counting down the hours until she can go back to Spain. 

When she gets home she checks to see that her house hasn’t been broken into and that all pipes are still in place. Her worst nightmare is returning to a flooded house. It all seems normal, she opens a few windows to air it out. Penny’s back in Spain with Julio so she feels extra alone. 

She texts Rafe that she’s back in town and he texts her back within a minute. 

“Thank you for coming, angel.” She smiles at the nickname and responds,

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He sees her and his world stops. Her hair is in loose waves and it looks a little longer than when he had last seen her. His heart reaches out to her, begging to be in her presence. Sarah notices him there standing like an idiot and waves him over, the motion grabbing Y/N’s attention. 

“Hey,” he says walking over.

“Hi!” She says putting her arms out to him, she goes on her tippy toes to reach him. 

“How are you?” He asks her, slowly letting go. 

“I’m good! Jetlagg is kicking my ass, but happy to be here! Look at you, rockstar.” She has a wide smile on her face that makes him feel like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

“Yeah,” he laughs a little, scratching the back of his neck, shy all of a sudden.

“I heard a little rumour that Sofia was around?”

“I invited her to a show, extending a branch and all and we talked but that ship has sailed.”

“Are you on good terms?”

“I think we could be better, but it’s okay, I’m not holding my breath.” She links her arm with his, he looks at where their arms connect and feels like he’s on fire. How is he ever going to get over her?

+++

Rafe is amazing. He’s in a class of his own when he’s up on stage giving the show of a lifetime. It makes her tear up. She can’t help but think how he almost gave this all up when they were younger. She can’t imagine him anywhere but the stage. If he were working for his dad, his star would be caged. She’s so happy she could be a small part of his journey. He deserves the world. 

For the first time since they started talking again, she feels like they can go back to normal. She loves him. She can have her best friend back. 

+++

She doesn’t know how fast everything can fall apart. It’s perfect. Too perfect. She should have known that the other shoe would drop sooner or later. That’s how her life goes. She should have known she couldn’t have everything she wants. Things get ripped away eventually.

Rafe and Topper had mentioned that there were rumours they might have to go on a festival run. She hasn’t heard anything from their manager or their label. She likes the idea of a festival run, it could get them playing in front of people who don’t know who they are and expose them to new crowds.

She misses performing, she knows this would cut her time in Spain short. Much shorter than anticipated. She’s supposed to be there for almost seven months, with a bit of travelling back and forth until Julio finishes filming and they can stay in New York for a while. 

She’s only been here for three months. It’s been so nice to be back with Julio full time, and get to do normal couple things after work. She doesn’t know how she’ll break the news to him. She chooses not to until she knows for sure. 

The peace is short-lived. 

“What is this?” Julio holds up the phone for her to take. She grabs his phone and looks at Boston Calling’s festival lineup. She reads trying to see what he’s talking about and finally finds what he’s asking about. Saturday, May 8th: Kildare Split B stage. 

“I promise I didn’t know anything about this.” She tries to reassure him.

“That’s in two weeks.” He says to her, she feels the emotion in his voice.

“I know. I’ll talk to them.” She gives him his phone back and wraps her arms around him. 

“I’m sorry.” They stay wrapped up in each other, silence overtaking them.

+++

“Ash, no one told me. I just thought I had more time.”

“There’s nothing we can do, we have the contract, you’re expected here.” She slides her hand over her face and sighs. 

“Okay. That’s fine, but I’m leaving right after, no press.”

“Y/N, that’s not the only festival. You’ll be doing stops all spring and summer.” Her stomach drops. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“I’m sorry. The label will make no exceptions. You have to be here for every show.”

+++

She cries in Julio’s arms about having to leave so soon. He tells her it’s okay and that it’s nothing that they aren’t used to. She hates being used to being so far from him. She already misses him. 

They try to get back to normal for the remainder of the time but something shifts. She can’t quite place it. She doesn’t know if it’s her or if it’s him. It feels off. For the first time since they met, it feels like they’re orbiting around different stars. 

They’re returning to their apartment from lunch with one of his co-stars when her world starts to crack. She knows what he’s thinking before he even says it out loud. His eyes are sad and she can read him. She’s never hated him a day since they met. Not until now. She tries to distract herself, tries changing the subject, she tells him she’s going to shower and get ready for bed. 

In the shower, she tries to scrub away the doubt and rubs at her skin to try and rid herself of the feeling. Impending doom. The world ending. A black hole fiding her universe and destroying it before she can do anything to stop it. 

When she gets out of the shower he’s sitting on the edge of their bed facing her, she’s still trying to avoid it, she kisses his cheek and turns away. He stops her from walking away by grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him. She doesn’t face him. She can’t.

“This is so hard.” His voice comes out hoarse.

“Then don’t do it.” 

“I love you so much it hurts.” It’s not supposed to hurt. He taught her that. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“You said we could get through it. You said that it was nothing we hadn’t done.”

“I know what I said. I thought I could.”

“And now you can’t.” He looks at her, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I wish things could be different.”

“No. No. No. Stop, no, you don’t get to break up with me.” She’s screaming, the tears already spilling from her eyes. She’s never felt so crazy. And her world falls apart. She doesn’t remember a time before her life was him and her.

“Y/N. You know I love you, I would do anything for you, and this is the right thing to do.”

“No. You don’t get to choose what is right for me. I do. And I choose you. I always choose you.”

“It’s not feasible. Being away from you. It hurts too much. It hurts you and it hurts me. I can’t do 

it. My heart breaks every time you leave.”

“I’ll do anything.” Tears fall from his eyes as he gulps.

“Moving here is not realistic for you, you were supposed to be here for way longer and look, you leave in three days. I don’t blame you. It’s everything you’ve worked for and I won’t be the person that holds you back.” She’s sobbing now, she can’t see him over her tears, she’s shaking and desperate to get him to listen. To keep him. 

“I’ll quit the band.” It comes tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it. she grabs his face and makes him look at her. “I’ll quit.” He looks at her eyes wide. 

“No.”

“Julio, please.”

“You don’t mean that, you’ll resent me and you won’t be happy and it’ll ruin us.”

“I won’t. I promise.” She’d never heard these sounds come out of her body before, so guttural and painful from somewhere deep inside her. 

“You will. You would never ask me to quit acting, would you?”

“No,” she whines, the tears flowing.

“Then how could I ask you to quit your dreams?” He’s right. She knows he is and it fucking hurts. She wants to rip her heart out. She’s never felt pain like this and she wishes she could have never met him. 

That’s not true, the thought of never having him in her life hurts. No matter how painful this moment is, the realization that their relationship is over is, she would never take back the years she spent with him. He showed her what it meant to be loved. How it felt to be seen and wanted. He taught her selflessness in love. She would never take it back. She needs to numb the pain. 

She falls into his arms, her face on his chest as she cries and cries. He holds her like he never wants to let go and cries with her. God how she wishes she could live another life. How she wishes they could be other people. In another life, she thinks. In another life. 

He’s what she wants, but she’s not what he needs. Because she’s hurting him. She’s been hurting him and he can’t put up with it anymore. She’s not worth it.

She books her flight for that night. Not wanting to prolong their inevitable goodbye. She watches as he closes the door to his apartment. The last time she’ll be here. They hold hands on the way down to his car and then as he drives her to the airport where he kisses her for the last time. Kisses her goodbye. And she gets on the plane and cries all the way home. The flight attendant keeps bringing her water and the people around her are whispering. She closes the curtains around her pod. Her eyes focus on the sides of the window as the frost builds like little spider webs reaching out to her.

She loves him. She loves him. She can’t believe this.

+++

She gets to her house. Penny next to her. She sets her stuff down next to the door and collapses into a pile of skin, bone, and numbness. Her heart missing. Her heart was somewhere back in Spain with the boy he dragged her out of her isolation and brought her back to life. How could she ever be okay again?

She doesn’t leave her house or her bed until the day she has to be on a flight to Boston. She has about 100 missed calls and a billion unopened text messages. She doesn’t care to talk to anyone. Doesn’t want to explain the breakup. 

+++

She can feel herself isolating. To the way, things were before him. She’s in a room full of people and she feels the most alone she’s ever been. She waves everyone off, not giving them a second glance. She marches on stage, she plays the show with a missing heart. Pretending she’s okay. The band sees right through her, the fans don’t know better. 

Everyone is worried about her. Ash forces her to come out with the band and crew. She’s probably scared she’ll overdose if she’s on her own. All the telltale signs of how she used to be. They’re keeping an eye on her. 

She doesn’t feel like she’s in her body, she’s floating through life right now. She walks out onto the balcony, needing fresh air. 

Everyone’s dancing as she sits on the balcony and stares at the night sky. The wind makes goose bumps rise on her skin. She feels another tear try and escape her eye. She blinks it away before it can. She’s so tired of crying all the time. 

“Hey, you.” Topper steps out into the crisp air. 

“Hey,” she whispers, trying to cover that she’s been crying. 

“You okay?”

“No.”

“It’ll be okay. Sometimes love just doesn’t last. It happens and it’ll pass.”

“We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other. If the distance didn’t exist I would still be with him. I would choose him over and over again but I was hurting him and in turn, I was hurting myself and neither of us expected or would accept the other quitting their dream jobs to move. So we’re done and it fucking hurts, Top. I saw forever with him. I haven’t felt that way about anyone ever. Part of me thinks that one day, when we’re both settled and not chasing the next best thing, we’ll be together.” She’s choking up, tears spilling over.

“Come here,” he opens his arms to her and she falls into them, “I’m here for you.” she looks over his shoulder to where Rafe is with their friends. 

“For now I just want to drink and cry and sleep for three weeks. I want the pain to stop. I don’t want to feel.” She pulls back from Topper, grabbing his arm and dragging him back inside. 

She would forget. At least for tonight.

+++

Her head pounds in the morning. She would blame all the crying she’s been doing but it’s mostly the alcohol. Cleo would kill her if she knew how much she was drinking again. She opens her eyes and looks around the half-lit room, the morning sun peeking through the curtains. The curtains are on the wrong side of the room. She looks around some more and notices clothes thrown on the floor. Men’s clothes. This isn’t her room. 

She remembers bits of the night before, kissing and touching in the elevator ride, the fight to find his room key, looking into his blue eyes and forgetting the name of the man with the brown eyes. At least for a moment. She blinks as if that would stop the headache.  

“Shit.” She hears from beside her. She slowly turns her head until her eyes meet the blue eyes staring back at her. 

“Top.”

“Fuck.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks au #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smau #kildaresplit au

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley trauma edition

Warnings: mentions of trauma and relating effects

Simon Riley masterlist

Plain and simple, Simon Riley has trauma. He’s seen and done some unspeakable things. He’s met the grim reaper and made it beg for forgiveness as he clawed his way back to this plane of existence. He’s looked God in the face and said “fuck your plan. I’m doing things my way.”

With that comes consequences.

He has terrible nightmares most nights where he wakes up with a raw heart and covered in sweat. His throat hurts from the screaming he must have been doing while he dreamt about his family’s murders. His eyes are sore from the tears he shed when he relived being buried alive. His body aches from being in fight or flight for so long. He hurts everywhere all of the time. Most nights he can’t sleep in bed. Instead he’ll lay on the floor or the couch because it’s uncomfortable but it’s what he’s used to. He only uses a thin blanket and maybe an old pillow that’s basically cardboard. Nothing can be touching him because he immediately wakes up. No one can walk past him or the room he’s sleeping in without his eyes snapping open. He has to face the door when he sits down because he needs to be able to see if anything happens. He’s concealed carrying at all times because he feels exposed without the familiar weight of a weapon at his hip.

Loud noises and crowded places are a big fuck no. Any loud bang causes him to flinch and his eyes to twitch. Crowds leave too much room for error. When he’s with you, he will not be out into a position where he can’t protect you. If that means you don’t go to concerts or clubbing so be it.

Your blood will not stain his hands.

Physical touch is difficult for him. He has to work his way up to it. It starts with small gestures like brushing his hand against yours when you’re walking or when you’re siting down. It eventually goes to holding your fingers (not your whole hand) and gripping your knee when he’s driving. After some time he’s able to keep his hand on the small of your back while also kissing the top of your head. However do not ask this man to kiss you in when you’re around the others. He will spontaneously combust at the mere thought of them seeing him be Simon and not Ghost.

He tries therapy but at a certain point, it doesn’t seem to help. Consistency is key and he doesn’t exactly have that with his job. The other issue is that therapy is not a cure. It is a managing tool. It will not ‘fix’ whatever you feel is broken. It can help repair what needs to be mended and it’s done that for Simon. He’s repaired all that he can but the long term effects of his trauma are here to stay. He’s not going to like going out. He’s not going to be comfortable with touch. His sleeping habits will be different until he finally shuffles off this mortal coil. He’s going to be harsh and abrasive to most. He’s going to be Ghost most of the time.

He’s going to be all that is he now because it’s who he is…and you love him for it.

#simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #call of duty #ghost cod

[stevenose]

you stir a little. there’s something tugging in your stomach and you’re not sure what it is in your sleep-hazed state. it’s tugging at you, deep. you’re too tired to do much about it, sleep tugging at your eyes, until you begin to feel something soft and wet against your clit.

it’s steve alright. you know his shenanigans by now. you force your eyes open and more of your senses come back to you. your knees over his warm shoulders; warm breath on your cunt; his lips wrapped around your clit.

“oh,” you whisper. “h-hi.”

“mmm.” he kisses your thigh, concealed by the covers beneath you. “hi, angel.”

your hands find his hair and your lithe fingers tangle up in it. steve moans when you tug on his roots. he goes back to his work without any more conversation, making out properly with you. sticky honey coats your legs and the bed beneath you. you want to ask how long he’s been at it, how the hell he got under you without waking you up, but you’re wrapped up in his tongue.

you whine and grind a little bit downwards, clit catching on the bridge of his broad nose while he tongue fucks you. his fingers dig harder into your thighs in response - keep that up. so you do, letting that tugging grow and grow as your head lolls to the side to check the clock - 2:38 am.

“ah! stevie,” you moan thickly, plush thighs trapping his head. “i - i’m gonna cum, w-want it?”

“mhm.” guttural. deep in his chest.

you bite back a laugh. “want m-me to - oh, god - cum on th-that pretty face?”

he finally speaks. “please?” fucked out. hoarse.

your body rolls, his lips gently sucking at your clit, his fingers bruising. your head throws back against your pillow and you cry out, steve swallowing your orgasm below.

you tremble, spent, as he crawls up towards you. he gets stuck in the blanket for a moment before he pops out, cheeks red, sweating, lips slick. he’s grinning boyishly, hair a mess, old t-shirt stuck to him like he’s been dunked in water.

“hi.”

“come here,” you coo, holding your arms out. he rests his head against your chest and wraps his arms around your waist as best as he can. you brush his hair back into order. “what’s wrong?”

“huh?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you with confused, puppy dog eyes. “nothin’. no nightmares. just hungry.”

you laugh and bring his head back down to rest over your heart. “hmm. i appreciate it.”

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #bye!

[lukesirlgf]

Dating Carl grimes HCs

He’s such a sweetheart omg

Best friends to lovers????

He lets you wear his flannels

Tbh you probably share them

Comic book dates

Hugs you from behind

When he goes out on runs, he always gets you a little gift, weather it’s a book, necklace, bracelets, a piece of clothing, candy. If he thinks you’ll like it he’s throwing it in the bag

Carl is EXTREMELY protective of you.

At first, he tried to create distance between you two when he realized that he liked you but Rick and Michonne saw it and found a way to make him confess

He found a Polaroid camera and film and now he takes pictures of you all the time.

He actually has a photo album of them.

You’re one of the only people allowed to touch his hair and he may let you trim it a bit when it gets to long but that’s a big maybe

You two babysit Judith together

And Carl loves seeing how you interact with her.

Loves holding your hand. He isn’t big on PDA but he will definitely hold your hand so people know you’re his

HOLDING PINKIES OMG

He loves it more than hand holding

He plays with your fingers when he gets nervous too

After he lost his eye, he tried to be distant and break up with you because he believed that he was too ugly.

You shut his ass down real fast at that.

Drawing on each other when bored

Idk I can see Carl drawing some cool ass graffiti design on your hand

For some reason I can see him liking dark chocolate and white over regular milk? So your guys’ candy stash is dark chocolate or white

He doesn’t like the way that certain clothes feel on him so he gives them to you

I can see him tying your shoes for you too.

He’s a morning person and if you aren’t, he watches you sleep before he gets bored and rolls on top of you and whines for cuddles

He always has to be holding you in his sleep. Even if you two are mad at each other.

But he doesn’t let you go to bed angry

You guys don’t argue much but when you do everyone suffers for it

Carl is very stubborn

So are you.

It ends up being a waiting game to see who apologizes first

It’s probably him

When Judith has nightmares, he’ll bring her to your guys’ room and she’ll sleep with you guys

Everyone loves you two together

Playing little games while on the road

He cannot sleep without you in his arms

When Negan came, he tried to split you guys up but Carl was not having that.

Even Negan won’t fuck with you two

Everyone loves you guys end of story

#carl grimes #carl grimes headcanons #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagines #the walking dead #twd #amc twd

[puppetwoman17]

Okay so I love all of the cap identity reveal stories. Obviously. The anticipation of the reactions, the fact that someone they’ve known for so long, someone they’ve fought with and laughed with and cried with, is not even half their age…

But what if they NEVER found out? Cap’s identity, I mean.

I don’t mean life just continues on with Billy leading his separate lives. It’s more like(this next part is so fucking drastic lol) the league thinks cap is dead and suffer with the hole he left behind, only to somehow find out he’s alive, and to add fuel to the fire, he’s a young radio host in Fawcett.

The JL( and other heroes if you want) are fighting a being with incredibly powerful magic. I’m not good with the specifics, but it lines up with someone like Lady Blaze. The YJ team are acting as reconnaissance and backup. Everyone’s doing their part, including Cap.

But then something goes wrong. A miscalculation is all it takes for the fight to spin in the villain’s favor. Magic is a fickle thing. One wrong move, and sparks will fly with reckless abandon.

The fight is nearing an end, and it’s clear that almost all the heroes have been rendered useless. They’re either limping up to go again, or unconscious from the strain.

Everyone but Captain Marvel, that is.

To bring an end to the fight, Cap unleashes a powerful stream of magic, something no one has ever seen him pull off. It seems to zap everything out of him. The next thing you know he’s falling, his body slowly disintegrating. He makes it to the floor and smiles at the other heroes, all of whom are crying their hearts out as gold dust replaces him, for divine beings have no blood.

Billy, on the other hand, is fucking pissed. Apparently, Shazam created a failsafe in case something like this happens. He wakes up in the rock, unable to transform. His magic is still there, and with Solomon’s help he learns that his champion form will return after a couple years. For now, he needs to rest his reservoir.

Now, you’d think he would go tell the league, right?

But he’s not so little anymore, and he now knows that him being younger won’t be the only issue. Younger him was only worried about that little tidbit, but in truth, there was no guarantee they would let him stay if they knew he’d been lying so much. If he’d been able to keep his age a secret for so long, what else could he be hiding?

It’s not something he wants to do. The League, the YJ team, the Titans, they’ve all become like a family to him, despite almost all of them(barring the magic heroes) not knowing who he is. But he can’t risk being watched by parental hawks whenever he’s doing his champion work as Billy. He can’t risk them learning about his… circumstances. His crappy uncle, his annoying cousin, his(an oc I created for this post specifically but dw he’s not that important) crooked cop of a younger-older cousin. His living situation, his previous state of malnutrition, and all of his responsibilities. What a nightmare that would be, explaining all of that.

Also, he tries not to sound too cocky in his head, but he’s fairly sure at least a little less than half of the JL would kill for him. Or at least they’d beat someone to a pulp, which is still a pretty big deal.

So, he washes his hands of the JL and the sub teams and handles his champion work(bar fighting now cause his other body needs to regenerate) in his civilian form. It helps that the magic community, all sides of the spectrum, collectively decide not to tell the other heroes that their Champion is alive. They can get really annoying when it comes to their Boy Scout 🙄.

Plot, plot, plot happens. I’m thinking maybe Whiz gets an opportunity to interview JL members and they send their best reporter for the job. Or maybe something happens on the magic spectrum that brings them closer to Billy. Either way, the JL finds out Cap’s identity without Billy knowing and they are PISSED.

Billy has to deal with countless vigilantes, heroes, and teams lounging on his couch trying to goad him into revealing who he is. Either that r they follow him throughout Fawcett. Some people are angry with him, like Conner or either of the Roys. They try to make him angry. They want to see the real Cap, the real Billy(which is stupid cause of course cap isnt a fake persona but they’re too mad to realize).

Others feel betrayed, like Artemis and Wally(I refuse to acknowledge his death). Cap was a best man at the wedding and they really started to look to him as a sort of father figure. In fact, all the younger heroes love how he stood up for them and validated their feelings. To know that so much of their worries were being shouldered by someone who was years younger than them…

And the JL is worse off too. Their coworker, who they trusted and cared for, had been living alone since he was a child. Having to save for scraps until he finally got a home of his own.

The magic users are practically waiting for Billy to blow a fuse at everyone either fussing over him, attempting to make him mad, or following him whenever they felt the need. Mary’s laughing her ass off and Freddy’s smirking because now he can say “I told you so”. Shazam’s shaking his head because he told his damn protege that the champion doesn’t DO teams, but look where they are now.

Teth is honestly ecstatic. Comes to the next higher ups meeting and laughs in Billy’s face.

And Billy? Billy at least hopes he can make some money off of this: Okay but if I let you stay on my couch for the next three hours, that’s gonna cost you.

No no, I’ll let you follow me, but only if you do this one interview.

Maybe just stop trying to make me mad and just talk to me? Like I get you have issues but I already have a shit load of that so…

#billy batson #captain marvel #justice league #dc universe #shazam #identity reveal #temporary character death #magic community

[cherryredstars]

Hiii cherry♥️ i have a request for simon🙃🫠 ok so smth where they kidnap his civilian wife and he's losing his mind trying to find and save her😣😫 also she's pregnant but he doesn't know🥲 love your writing mwah mwah💋💋♥️♥️

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst(???), Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions to Simon’s Trauma, Happy Ending

Summary: His worst fear has come true. 

Word Count: 1.5K (Unedited)

He’s loosing his fucking mind. 

Of course, right when he got comfortable. Right when all these fears started to melt away. Right when he was happy and he had a family again. Everything always goes to shit for him. He can't have a single good thing. History repeats itself. Again and again and again. He should have known. He should have known better. He knew better. He shouldn’t have gotten close to someone again.

Six good years. Six peaceful years.That’s what he got. Six years without any threats, or blackmailing, or discovering. Six years of learning how to love and be loved. Six years of finally having a home again. Six years isn't enough. He wants more damnit. If you’ve taught him anything, it's that he deserves more. And he’d be damned if he didn’t fight for it. Fight for you. But in order to do that he has to fight through this… this fog in his head. This murky fuzziness that shadows in the corners of his mind. It makes his trained focus wane. 

He can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes. He’s zoning out. One second he’s thinking strategies in a briefing room, then his eyes are floating past Price’s shoulders and he’s looking at the fucking wall. You’re missing and all Simon, or Ghost, or he can do is look at the fucking concrete walls like a fucking idiot. Any sounds are just white noise, a soft, distant buzzing. He doesn’t process anything. It’s not going through one ear and out the other. No, it’s not even reaching him. He’s not even thinking about anything as he sits there. It’s all just blank, empty. 

He’s claustrophobic too. He can’t sit in a room for too long. Can’t stand too close to any single person. Fuck going to the mess for food or training or meetings or even being on base. He can’t even fucking spend more than an hour in his barrick before he can see the walls shrinking in on him. It makes his breath quicken and he races out of there quickly. But there isn’t anywhere else he can go. He can’t even stomach the thought of going to your shared home. He knows the second he steps in he’ll feel like a traitor, a murderer, and an accomplice to your abduction. He won’t survive that, he can’t. It feels like he’s back in that fucking coffin again. 

He needs to get up and walk around. His body demands it. He… he needs to be doing something. He just doesn’t know what. So he trains and works out and runs laps over a thousand times. He bounces his knees when he sits. He shifts in his chair no matter how comfortable it is. He picks at loose threads on his gloves and he fidgets with his combat gear. He cleans and disassembles his guns and puts them back together. He does paperwork, or he attempts to. He can’t focus on the words and he can’t get his words right. He spends the time in his office bouncing his knee and clicking his pen and sweating because even though the window is open he can see the walls caving in from the corner of his eye. Nothing is right. Nothing he does is ever right. 

He’s just so tired.

In the late hours of the night, usually on the nights he comes back from deployment or had a god awful nightmare, he would lay awake with you. The two of you facing each other, breathing in each other’s exhales as he played with your hair. He would lean in close and whisper into the still air, I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s the truth. Look at him now: an unfunctional mess with less capabilities than a bloody piece of paper. He’s absolutely useless without you. I don’t know what I would do without you, he had said. Guess he knows now, and his future doesn’t look very promising, (not that it would last more than a couple of hours if you weren’t ever saved). 

He isn’t the only one who sees how he’s losing his mind. Everyone sees it. Johnny, Price, Gaz, even fucking Laswell. It makes him want to laugh. In fact, he does laugh in Price’s face. It’s funny, really. Really goddamn funny. Price and the lot of them. He won’t admit that he feels like he’s backed into a corner. That he’s seconds away from barring claws and fangs at them. He thinks he’s really fucking funny.

“You’re not going on this mission, Simon. I’m not signing off on it.”

Ghost wants to roll his eyes. Of course Simon isn’t going to go. That weak, emotional twat would get killed in seconds. Ghost is going. Not Simon, never Simon. Not anymore. But Price is looking at him like he’s fucking stupid. Like he’s dense and missing something. Then it clicks. If Simon isn’t going… that also means Ghost isn’t going. Two lives in one he realizes. Ghost and Simon. Simon and You. 

“Like fucking hell I’m not going!” Both of them growl, Simon and Ghost together. For your sake, he can get his mind straight. There is no fucking way that he isn’t going to go out there and save you. Leave your life-  the only life that matters in this damn world- in the hands of someone else? He thinks absolutely fucking not. He just hopes Price doesn’t see the thickening film over his eyes that’s been developing since you’ve been gone. 

“It’s too personal for you. At this rate, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

The anger coursing through his bones is strong and vibrating. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides and he feels like he can breathe fire. “Yeah? Things between the two of us are about to get fucking personal.”

Price does nothing but look at him calmly. He gives Ghost a pat on the shoulder, one that he quickly brushes off, and… walks away. It leaves Simon fuming, but as he stands there, his mind drifts again. And it floats and it flutters and his mind has gone blank again. His anger dies down to nothingness. He hates when that old geezer is right. 

______________________________________

It’s made final. He watches them through the cameras in Laswell’s room. Yeah, he’s on Laswell’s personal assistant duty. He’s standing besides her, brooding as the rest of 141 board the chopper. He watches as it slowly begins to lift off the pad, and in a few seconds, it’s flying away. Laswell gives him what’s supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder, but Simon just stands there, looking at the empty helicopter pad. 

He spends the rest of the time blanking out. He doesn’t really care for what Laswell is saying to her team on base, telling them to check coordinates and statuses and whatnot. Every now and then, one of the lads says something in comms that fills the room with static words. It all just sounds like white noise. Simon only realizes that they retrieved that target when Laswell shakes his shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze. It takes him a minute or two, his mind trying to channel in. But then it hits. It registers in his mind and in his heart and in his body. The fuzzy edges of his mind recede and everything looks sharper than it has in the past week and a half. 

You’re coming home. He sags, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shake as he cries. 

Even when the tears dry, he stays in that position until the boys get back. He jumps up, following behind Laswell to the medical center. The rest of 141 is there already, conversing about the briefing they will have to go to afterwards. When they hear the two of them approaching, they quieten up and smile. Simon doesn’t give them the chance to say anything before he pulls each of them into a hug, muttering that he owes each of them one. When he gets to Price, he holds onto him the longest, thank yous rushing from his mouth. When he finally pulls away, he asks how you are. 

Price smiles, slapping his shoulder firmly, “Both are fine. Just check ups.”

Simon furrows, looking at Price, “There was another hostage?”

He’s confused when no one answers, looking around. He wants to slap the wide smile off of all their faces. Have they gone manic or something? 

His attention draws back to Price as he chuckles, “Her and the baby.”

Simon feels his breath escape his lungs, his mind getting light headed. He might just cry again. He wastes no time walking into the room, eyes wide as he looks to the bed. You’re conversing casually with the nurse, hand resting on your stomach. When they both hear him enter, the both of you quiet and turn. You smile at him, opening your mouth to say something that never escapes as he rushes you. His hug is bone crushing, but you let him have it. 

You’re finally back. You and the baby.

#cherry's requests🍒 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod ghost #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, first time, virgin!eddie, just soft boys being soft, not the actual smut I am sorry | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is terrifying by @starryeyedjanai | @steddiemicrofic prompt "edge" | AO3)

Steve's hands start to shake as he lifts Eddie's shirt over his head, and when he fumbles with Eddie's belt, they shake so badly that he can barely get it unbuckled.

They've never done this before. Shaking like that when Steve touches someone he's attracted to, that is.

Because he never felt that way about anyone, not even Nancy.

Like he's on the precipice of something life-changing and once he goes over the edge there's no coming back.

He was 16 years old when he learned that monsters were real and that there was another world out there full of them. Within a few months, he lost his social status, his friends, and his girlfriend. In return, he got a severe head trauma, nightmares, and a bunch of kids who were too smart and too brave for their own good.

And yet, undressing Eddie in his bedroom is the scariest thing he's ever done.

"Are you okay, Stevie? You're shaking," his boyfriend asks him, as if this were Steve's first time and not his own. As if it's Steve who needs gentle reassurance.

Shit, maybe he does. It's like he doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know how to show Eddie what this means to him, that Eddie trusts him so much. That Eddie loves him so much.

"I'm okay. Just a little nervous, I guess?" Steve concedes, too many things going through his head to put them all in words. "Are you okay?"

Eddie's steady hands wrap around his own shaking ones, squeezing them gently. "I'm good, Stevie."

He says it so simply, his voice as steady and sure as his hands, and Steve wonders how Eddie can be so calm when Steve's heart is pounding in his chest.

"But... aren't you, I don't know, nervous?"

He doesn't want Eddie to be nervous because there's no reason to be. Steve can't wait to explore every inch of that beloved body, to kiss every single scar and thank anyone who will listen that he's allowed to do that. His body and soul both long to get closer to Eddie, and soon they'll be as close as two people can be.

And yet, it feels like something might be wrong with him if Eddie doesn't feel any of the overwhelming fear that has Steve so nervous that he can't even get them naked without shaking.

Pulling Steve in, Eddie presses Steve's palm against the warm skin of his chest, just above his heart.

It's beating as fast as Steve's, and something settles inside him. He's not alone in this, Eddie is with him. Where one goes, the other follows.

"Oh, I am. I'm so fucking nervous, because I have no idea what I'm doing while you have all this experience. I don't want to let you down. But I'm still good because it's you, Stevie. You're here, so I don't have to worry, even though I'm scared."

Taking a step forward so that Steve's hand over his heart is trapped between them, Eddie kisses him gently.

"I'm safe with you."

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #steddiemicrofic #my writing #day 18

[sunny-mercya]

Of Nightmarish Phobias

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Ever since the dreadful accident, sleep—something which wouldn't come easily anymore—had been deprived from the three of you, leaving you all sluggish to move through the day.

Stu would be the first one to wake up—even though he's more of a heavyweight sleeper, sleeping till late afternoon if no one would wake him up—and being a sprawler, his lanky long limps like a starfish hitting his two boyfriends every now and then, he could easily bring you into a koala hug like headlock.

Like mention before, Stu sleeps heavily—sunken so deep into the dreamland and in the comforts of bed, that he wouldn't even notice if the sky would shatter down onto earth.

Though now, besides Billy's rough way of waking him up—a slap to his thighs—the slightest hectic movement from you would bring him to a point of rise.

Turning onto his sides, towards you, Stu moves you into his arms. Holding you tight to

Where while Billy, who could sleep just as deep if wanted to—but didn't, liked to be on natural guard—would occasionally wake up on his own, checking up on you and taking a toilet break.

Billy was more the rational—doesn't mean he hadn't a soft side—person of comfort and Stu—who could be just as mean if needed—the one for emotional support. They're both their counterparts and at the same time they completed one another—like missing puzzles or Yin and Yang.

In all this you're the pull of glue which hold them both together. From the beginning of your relationship, you had giving them nothing but unconditional warm comfort of love, making sure they're happy and satisfied.

Though after the accident it all had changed and now it was their turn to shower you in unconditional love and support.

Simply because they adored you just as much as you do them and because you're their driving force—the sole motivation of reasons—why they decided to do what they do; delightful killing.

~~~

Stu groaned in pain, doubling over into a fetal position as your hand collided with his stomach in full force again. Sure, you had lost some strength in your muscles—on practically terrible days couldn't even stand on your own without having help or an aid—but you still were able to give a few good hits.

Whatever dream it was this time, it made your hand hitting down on repeat—like a cat would do when trying to catch a toy.

Another groan from Stu, had you hit his side this time. Should he try and wrap you into a blanket hug again or wake Billy up?

He couldn't tell how server your nightmare is this night. If it's just a common one—he really doesn't know the different types of nightmares and their names and neither does Billy, so they decided to give them their own ranks, for a more easily weighting out of options and methods to use against you—or one of the terrific ones.

The ranks of Nightmares goes like this; A common one means, letting you it trashing it out. Mid ones, wrapping you up into a blanket or tight hug. Terrible ones, waking you up. Terrific ones—where you're in a sense awake at the same time and giving yourself also a panic attack at the same time, without realising—would mean injecting you with a sedative.

More than often they had to use the Sedative during Common or terrible ones too.

Which they shouldn't, as the doctor said not to and only when absolutely necessary needed—the sedative was quite strong, making you sleep through a whole day and brings your mind into a state of fuzzy haze when awake again, that it turns you vulnerable and incoherent.

But when you're so immersed into your panic, they had no other options at hand, then to inject it into your blood.

»Fuck.« Billy cursed out loud when your hand landed onto his stomach, full force. Stu stifles a chuckle—serves you right, he thought, if I have to suffer so does you.

Billy sats up, blankets dropping down from him, turning his head to his boyfriends and squinting into the darkness a bit.

»Shut up Stu. Next time you wake me beforehand, when [Name] starts to trash around like this.« grumbled Billy, hissing shortly after when his thigh got slapped.

Christ, could you hit hard when unintentionally wanted to.

»Nah, make me«

»C'mon big guy, let's go to the couch to get at least some sleep.«

~~~

A few hours later, in the early mornings, your screaming woke Billy and Stu up. Like cold water being dumped on them, they tumbled from the couch and onto the floor.

Wide awake now, on full guard—you screaming was never a good thing—and ready to strike an attack to whatever intruder might have come, they untangled them from each other limps.

Bolting with quick steps back into the bedroom, switching the lights on and discovering you.

Sitting on the ground, against the nightstand. Head in hands, gripping your hair tightly—pulling at it—trembling uncontrollably in shivers.

»Baby, what's wrong?« asked Billy, voice soft and in a audible whisper. Slowly approaching you with Stu, crouching down and stretching his hand out into your view.

»He's here. He's here. He's here.« you chanted it like a mantra, rocking back and forth.

»Who's here, darling?«

»Dylan! He's here! He's back! He will hurt me again!« your head whipped up, looking at Billy with a wide fear filled face. Tears already flowing from you eyes as you pointed with a shaking finger at the wardrobe.

»Baby, baby, he isn't here, believe me.« said Stu, leaning against the wall. They know Dylan isn't here, have killed him after all to ensure your safety.

»Yes he is!« jumping up, pushing Billy and Stu aside and going to the wardrobe, you opened it wide—searching through the clothes.

You shirked in utterly disbelief. He was here, you're sure of it. You have saw him just mere minutes ago, when you woke up—saw his face looking down at you and the grin he had giving you.

It's a tragic and also a daily sight for them to see you so distressed in panic. How you destroyed yourself mentally further, with the slow rise of losing reality and growing into a paranoia.

»Nononononono« a hiccup left your lips, kneeling down, gripping your hair again and hitting your head against the floor. Mumbling incoherent words, messy nonsense things.

»Stu, get the Syringe« Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply. That's the third time in a row now, that they had to use the sedative. Thought they had no other choice or you would've injured yourself in your panicking state of hysteria more.

At this point they probably overdosing you with the chemical drug of calm, but what other choice had they? Sending you into therapy and they, the therapist signed you off into a mental institution? No chance.

Billy goes to you, heaving you up into his arms and moving you towards the bed. Sitting you and himself down onto the mattress, prying your hands from your head.

~~~

When Stu came back in, syringe in hand, Billy had managed to calm you down significantly, looking just a tad exhausted.

Billys grip around your body tightens, knowing well what was about to come next.

Once you took notice of the syringe in Stu's hand and the apologetic look he wore, you winced visibly in Billy arms.

You hated every type of needles. The sharp point brought a sense of pain filled imaginations. How it stabs into your skin, piercing a hole into it and either sucking your blood or letting it flow out.

Needles are a tool of something sinister.

Billy had pinned you down onto the mattress, hovering over you and this was the only cruel thing they had do to you—reminding you of the night when Dylan had hovered over you, grinning down, licking his lips in lust when he stabbed the scissors into you—so Billy lets you trash as much as you wanted.

»Let me go! Let me go! Nonono no. LET ME GO!« you screamed, trying to headbutt Billy, trying to free yourself.

You don't want the needle be pierced into your skin again, has it enough tiny disgusting holes already.

Stu joined, taking a seat next to you. Taking your arm from Billys grip, he injected the syringe into your skin.

While the drugs take their time to flow into your system, Billy and Stu had both engulfed you into their arms. Caressing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, till you're completely numb of panic—drowsy and calm.

»Goodnight, love«

#male reader #x male reader #fanfiction #oneshot #malereader #scream x male reader #scream #scream 1996 #poly! billy and stu x male reader #billy x stu x male reader #billy loomis x male reader #stu macher x male reader #billy loomis #stu macher #poly! ghostface x male reader #poly! billy loomis & stu macher x male reader #fluff #requested by anon #request ask

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Rotating Beds

You ask Ghost if you can sleep with him tonight since Price is out of town and all. He glares at you with the most hate-filled eyes you've ever seen. "He ain't been out a day, and you're already tryin to find a replacement?!" He storms away, leaving you puzzled and a bit upset.

It's worse the next morning when he sees you walk out of Alejandro's quarters looking like you've been up all night with sweat slicked hair. "So, what? You just gonna bunk with anyone who lets you?"

That night, he hears you talking in Soap's room, and he is burning with rage over the betrayal. He pounds on the door and nearly punches Soap in the face at his clueless rambling about providing you comfort while Price is gone. Ghost looks like he could turn glass into sand again with how hard he is clenching and grinding his teeth all the next day.

When you walk with Gaz to his room, he does punch him. "You have a girl, what the fuck are you throwing it away on her for?! And betraying Price, too!" Finally, you understand.

"Ghost, for fuck's sake! You are such an idiot. I have fucking nightmares without Price here. How do you not know this? Everyone takes turns when he is gone so I don't wake up in the dark alone and panic!"

His  face goes blank, and his shoulders drop, all of his rage melting away as you turn to check Gaz's face and the rapidly developing black eye. He waves you off and stalks to medical to get it iced, calling Ghost names as he goes.

Ghost almost looks small, defeated as he stares at you. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge you. I... Price is like the father I never had." He sighs and rubs the back of his neck before looking at you again. "It's really just sleep?"

You nod, silently wondering where you're going to bunk tonight as it wouldn't be fair to Gaz after the hit he took. Ghost gestures to his room. "The least I can do is take watch tonight, then. You can bunk in my bed and I will crash on the floor." You hesitate for a long moment, considering your options, "Ok."

The nightmares aren't better or worse than any other night, but each time you wake up, Ghost is there with a light on, rubbing your back and talking you through it.

#price x reader #call of duty #angst #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #simon ghost riley