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ohdeerfully · 2 months

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Hii!! i’ve never requested smth before but i absolutely adore your lil one shots for alastor and was wondering if you could write smth based on someone’s idea?

https://www.tumblr.com/sockmeat/741700944177315840/alastor-in-rut-but-instead-of-him-being-horny-hes

completely fine if not!! i just thought it was a cute idea and would love to see it wrote in an actual scenario!! :3

this is really simple and short but god writing block is killing me quickly... hope u like it anyway!!!!!! mwah mwah

as stated in the request, this is based off of @sockmeat 's post, which you can access by clicking here!

Jealousy Looks Good on You

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: alastor is super possessive, reader is referred to as female but doesn't really effect story at all, thats it i think

join my discord!

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It was that time of year again for Alastor. A few months of absolute physical and mental torture—which, considering he lived in Hell, maybe that was how Heaven finally managed to torment him for eternity. It never took a genius to figure out what put Alastor in such an odd state.

He was a deer.

Deer go into rut.

It was incredibly embarrassing, to say the least, especially for him when the rut was over. However, for his “mate,” who faced the brunt end of his seasonal affections, you didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, it was probably your favorite three months of the year.

You were currently lounging in the hotel lobby, chatting with Angel Dust about a bar he was interested in going to. You had one leg thrown up over the other, clad in a dark red outfit that had been “mysteriously” placed on the edge of your bed when you woke up—you knew who the culprit was as soon as you saw Alastor a few minutes later in a suspiciously similar outfit of the same color scheme.

He had been sitting next to you for a while, making small, nearly unnoticeable bids for attention as you tried to focus on Angel’s words. A pressure on your knee with his own, a light graze of his fingers through your hair as he lifted his hand to adjust his monocle… to anybody else, the contact would’ve seemed only coincidental; however, to you, it was obvious considering the great care he always took to mind his personal space.

A brief glance out of the corner of your eye confirmed your suspicions. You couldn’t help but lightly grin at the tense grin on his face and the growing expression of frustration as you continued to keep your attention on Angel.

“–so, that being said, I wanted ta invite’cha out with me! And Cherri’ll be there too,” Your eyes turned back towards the spider. You could nearly feel the tenseness in Alastor’s shoulders heighten, and that radio frequency of his tuning up ever so slightly, but still noticeable.

“That bar is no place for my lady,” Alastor responded in a snap before you could even open your mouth. You whipped your head in his direction with a frown.

“She isn’t your anything, Smiles,” Angel shot back, also interrupting your own attempt at defending yourself.

It was almost comical, the way your head twisted back and forth with each remark the two made at each other. The tension was rising quickly, and you were getting more agitated with how many times you got cut off from saying a single word.

You were distracted from your own mental anguish when Alastor abruptly stood, hand gripping his cane with more force than usual. There was a dangerous look in his red eyes as he grinned down at Angel.

“She is mine,” Alastor stated with finality. “And what’s mine stays with me.” He reached down and gripped your hand, tugging you up with him. As angry as he seemed he was still gentle with you, at least.

You’d be lying if you didn’t find the possessiveness attractive. Heck, it would probably be impossible to date the Radio Demon if you didn’t want to be obsessed over and practically owned. You were only slightly embarrassed at the heat on your cheeks when you felt the almost desperate grip of his on your hand, to which Angel pointed at with a defeated “what the hell.”

He basically dragged you away from the situation, ears slightly pressed back. He refused to look at you as you caught up to his steps and walked beside him. He didn’t have to look at you, though, because you already knew the turmoil that was going through his head.

“Don’t be so embarrassed,” You tried to comfort as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. “I think it’s very becoming of a gentleman to protect his property.” You enjoyed the way his eyes glittered with pride when you referred to yourself in such a manner. You didn’t truly consider yourself property, of course, but you simply enjoyed seeing that look in his eyes and the way his chest involuntarily puffed up.

What a different being Alastor was during his rut. More expression than ever with the way his affections and frustrations were so visible in his body language. He pulled you closer to him, squeezing you against his body as he let the two of you fall into the bed. You lifted yourself off of his chest with an elbow and looked down at him.

He met your gaze with his own wide, needy eyes and quivering smile. To put it simply, he looked… pitiful. Endearing. You loved it. He hated it. You knew if anybody saw him in this state he would go on the attack immediately without a single thought. You briefly glanced back to make sure the door had been locked. Just in case.

You smiled at him and peppered kisses on his chest and up, finally nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. He sighed pleasantly at your motions, swooping his arms up to position you on your side in front of him, wrapping himself protectively around your body.

“I crave you, my love,” He stated in an incredibly forward way. His voice lacked the typical radio effect as he spoke, and you realized your skin was also not prickling with the sensation that usually accompanied his presence. You responded by layering your hands over his own, which was resting comfortably against your waist. “I never want you out in such a… dirty place with that overly sexual spider.”

“I know, Al,” You said with a sigh. “Too many ‘hungry eyes’, you’ve told me this.”

He remained quiet, and you could barely feel the way your hair flicked every time he exhaled against the top of your head.

You also remained quiet, opting to just enjoy the moment. These three months went by so, so fast, so you didn’t want to waste time speaking and bickering over meaningless things. You didn’t care to go to bars, anyway; you weren’t much of a drinker. You also hoped to get Alastor’s mind off of his disdain for Angel. While you trusted him to know better to attack one of your friends—more importantly one of Charlie’s friends—you didn’t want to take any chances. He was somehow even more unpredictable during his rut.

You leaned your head back, tilting up slightly to meet Alastor’s gaze. He placed a feather-light kiss against your forehead in response.

He was in for a long three months, but you were going to enjoy every second of it.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #im sorry imm taking one million years to write anything #ive been so lazy

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brewed-pangolin · 3 months

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Imagine what a menace Soap would be with these

Challenged Territory

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, P in V, Soap getting all territorial over silly bruises, cue the Scottish bear

Synopsis: You play a round of rapid fire which ends with a quick session. But those bruises forming ignite the primal side of Soap and he takes it upon himself to mark you as his own

Okay. Call me crazy but I'm for damn sure Soap MacTavish puts play dates down on the calendar.

Just like date nights, movie nights, and camping weekends. Play dates are a must to keep the relationship fresh and full of vigor, especially when he's gone for extended periods of time.

And these little blasters are right up his alley.

But he'd want a fair fight, so expect to be taken to the range a few times to perfect that aim and steady your hand.

Once he's satisfied with your skill level, all hell breaks lose and he ain't holding back.

Your only indication that he's put the game into play will be your blaster on your bedside table. With him already staking out his perfect sniping position as you mentally prepare for the fire fight about to ensue.

And it always ends the same way. Both naked, breathless, and entangled on the living room floor as you tally up who got the most shots to the ass.

And those circular bruises growing on your flesh are nothing compared to the reddened handprint plastered on your left butt cheek.

"You can't count-, those slaps-, as hits, Soap," you muttered. A groggy whimper echoing off your tongue.

"Haud yer wheesht, lass. Beat ya by a solid 20. Easily"

"Pfft. 20's pushing it, trigger man."

"Doubt it. Cannae miss hittin' tha sweet ass a'yers."

You shoved your elbow into the center of his chest with a boisterous laugh, forcing a rumbling groan from his throat as he turned you onto your back and caged you beneath his muscular and gel tattered form.

"Ya wanna go 'nother round?" He asked with an excited growl. Eyes brimming in cerulean conquest as a curling smile formed on his kiss ravaged lips.

"Why? You clearly already beat me."

"Wasn't talkin' bout the game, bonnie," he purred lowly. His Scottish brogue thick as molasses as he pressed the bulbous tip of his cock against your wet and silken entrance.

"Feelin' a bit outdone by yer bruises. Need ta add some a'me own. Gotta-," he halted with a groan. Voice catching in his throat as he pushed between your folds and gradually pumped his hardened length into the welcoming walls of your cunt.

You rolled your eyes with a muffled moan, arching your back off the floor to assist in his entry as he glacially thrusted himself until fully seated.

"Johnny," you whimpered. Mouth open with a silent moan as your greedy walls clenched around him.

"I know, bonnie. Yer always so fuckin' tight fer me, aren't ya?" He growled as he encapsulated his mouth over your lips.

Devouring your moans before pulling away. Grabbing tightly at the flesh of your hips as he flared his chest and moved to sit on his haunches.

"Gonnae fuckin' wreck ya, lass."

The bellow that echoed in his brogue sent a spiraling shiver down your spine. Causing you to pulse around him as he hoisted your legs up and rest over his shoulders.

Clawing your nails along the floor for purchase as he pistoned his hips against your ass in a primal and aggressive thrust.

"Johnny!" You wailed, followed by a breathless gasp. Chest heaving, breasts bouncing as your body undulated with the waves of inertia from his forceful drives.

"Tha's it. Gonnae mark ya. Make ya mine. Make ya scream fer me."

Your body went into overdrive as he continually pistoned his cock into your aching cunt. Mind going nearly blank except for one thought that rolled around behind your eyes.

Soap saw those circular marks as a challenge, even if they were done so by his own hand. His need to mark you, claim you as his own pushed him into his primal state as he gripped with measured force into the supple flesh of your thighs.

And you loved it. The growls emanating from the caverns of his chest. The crazed yet loving glare in his eyes as he marked his territory with every throbbing plunge of his cock.

You'd carry those bruises with pride the next morning as you gazed at your figure in the mirror. The only change you'd make is the location. The bruises you loved. The rug burn, not so much.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @ghosts-goldendoodle @designateddeadend @foxface013 @queen-ilmaree @haurasha @havoc973 @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

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hg-aneh · 7 months

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Hi! I absolutely love all of your art and I’ve been fallowing you for awhile! There’s been some rumors that you ship Muriel x crowley?? Which I guess is an odd paring but nothing terrible wrong with, I was just curious if you do ship them.

Thank you for all your wonderful art <3

okay, i want to preface this by saying that I've already been harassed over this to the point of being called a lowkey pedophile and having every little move of mine scrutinized and misconstrued to sickening extents (this harassment spilled over to my partner too, and it was horrible)

so all anyone would do by doing this again would be repeating history, among other things that have to do with fucking up my already frail mental state

now.

onto the meat

yes, I ship it

no, I do not see Muriel as a child, kid, teenager, or anything of the sort and I find it personally distasteful to think of doing so because infantilizing autistic traits rubs me the wrong way (p e r s o n a l l y)

you can do it if you want to, I have worse things to worry about than a random person on the internet thinking something of a fictional character, just don't try to push your headcanon onto me just because you perceive it that way or because it's a popular dynamic that you find fun

adding onto this, i want to add that i will never and i mean fucking NEVER post anything related to that ship outside of the very specific private Xitter account i created for it

(and my personal facebook, on a friends only setting)

any Muriel & Crowley content outside of that account is all platonic and bla bla you get the gist. I can separate things, what a talent.

Now, I'm being overly paranoid and explaining myself to exhaustion over this for a very good reason and it's because last time someone found out about it ((yes we're going full circle to the beginning of this little bible)) they treated it as some sort of GOTCHA moment about me being a pedo ((and if you didn't know this already: I fucking despise children with my whole being, I'd rather be forcefed alligator shit for my whole life than be with one of those creatures for a single day))

It got to the point of that person making extremely hurtful videos about me and their little friend group comprised of goober eating toddlers joining in on the "Hater" train or whatever the hell that new cultural trend is called, as well

It was hell, that whole experience fucked me up BAD and i feel silly for saying this but it was genuinely traumatic! So- I apologize if I'm sounding confrontational here, anon, but like, this is the type of thing you have to do to keep yourself safe now, it's gone to that point and I'm in hysterics now because what the fuck

Lastly, I'd like to say this one other thing

Muriel is played by an adult actress, they are canonically the same age as Aziraphale and Crowley and are also an eldritch creature just like them

The fact that they're nice and bubbly and happen to have autistic traits doesn't suddenly make them a fetus. I have friends with the same personality type as them and I feel like it'd be dumb to treat them like zygotes knowing they're adults with body hair and debt

Again, if you see them as one, I'm literally no one to judge, I'm 1.49, you're better off taking judgement from a stupid lone penguin in the saharan desert.

But don't fuck with others for thinking otherwise, it's not a moral issue to disagree with a headcanon, please. 🥲

#aneh answers #aneh cries #im still not over that whole thing bruh it fucked me up good #aneh wont shut up #and thank you anon #and also sorry #this shit is looooong #disk horse #discourse

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sweetnans · 6 days

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Bakugo x reader. Established relationships, roast/goofy with each other. Fluff? Idk

Note: Please pardon if I misspelled something, english is not my first language ♡ Enjoy whatever this is :)

It was your favorite time of the day, finally bedtime. The best part of it was that Bakugo finished early at work-like he never does- so it'll be the two of you instead of only you in bed.

After a good meal that he made himself, the two of you went straight to the bathroom of your shared bedroom and started to prepare for bed.

"The floor is cold" You tip toed from the cold tile of the bathroom to your side of the bed.

He only hums in response.

Once you were under the sheets of the bed and curled up against you boyfriend is when started.

"Please, don't put your hand above my belly" you asked shutting your eyes, ready to catch sleep.

"Why's that?" He responded, his voice clearly off because of your comment.

"I'm about to piss myself"

He grunted. Same thing all nights.

"No fucking way we're doing this again, go back"

"I don't want to, its cold outside"

"I'm not waking up in the middle of the night soaking wet for your childish manners"

"Fine"

You ran to the bathroom. Winter in Japan was the worst, he could back you up in that but not this time when his comfort was part of the game.

In your way back to your bed you saw him sit up straight leaned against the bed frame with the biggest scold you've ever seen.

"What?" You asked completely quiet in your place. Being cold is a mental state after all.

"What are you wearing?" He even turned the light on to see clearly who's face was on your t-shirt.

"Oh, this?" You pointed straight to Midoriya's face. "It came to my office today in the mail, the fabric felt nice in my fingers so I concluded that it must feel nice to sleep on it...you like it? do you want one? I could definitely do that for you" You teased. His face showed exactly the otherwise.

"I hate it, take it off" He turned off the light and put himself back on the bed.

"You wish" you snorted. His commands were nothing to you. "Besides, you love having us, me and Deku, in your bed"

"Tch, I don't know which one of you I hate more"

When you were done and once again in the bed he started to move his body against your back.

"Put your feet between my legs if you're cold" He mumbled out.

"Nope. You rubbed your feet against mine last time and it felt weird.

"Jesus fucking christ, you're terrible" He grunted obviously annoyed, it made you giggle.

After a while when you started to believe that he was asleep, he started to rub his nose against your hair.

"Did you use my hair products?" He asked.

"No" It was a weird question but you were practically usted to it, 5 years into the relationship took out the best of Katsuki even the bad parts.

"Good"

"You're such an only child" you removed yourself from his arms. "Selfish bastard" You joked.

"I'm smelling myself all day so when I come home I expect to smell you and smell something different than myself...I like your smell"

"You're right" You let him win because you were tired. He envolved his arms around your body and you started to draw imaginary patterns in his hands. "Why am I dating such a loser?" You mumble loud enough so he can hear you hoping that you could get under his skin.

"Why did I marry you in the first place?"

You furrowed your brows knitting them together over your nose.

"We are not married" Not that you care.

He hummed in positive.

"And I'm not a loser".

You can't help but laugh. You made it. You got under his skin.

#bnha bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo headcanons #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia

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shadowdaddies · 7 months

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Claim Your Throne

Rhysand x Reader

A/N: Ever since I wrote some Rhys head canons including throne sex, I can’t get the idea out of my head. Enjoy

Warnings: nsfw, smut under the cut, throne sex, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, minors dni

It had been weeks since you and Rhys completed the mating bond, but the male was insatiable. You didn’t leave the bedroom for the first week, and hardly left for the week after, until Rhys was called in for problems in Hewn City that needed to be dealt with.

“I want to take you to the Court of Nightmares before we hold court there, just so you’re prepared, darling,” Rhys informed you after your strategy meeting with the inner circle. “It can be a lot to take in, so I’d like to take you there so that you can be acquainted without Keir’s tainting presence.” You knew you would be comfortable regardless as long as Rhysand was there with you, but it couldn’t hurt to familiarize yourself with the throne room. “Of course, love, let’s go.” No sooner had you responded than Rhys swept you into his arms and away to the Court of Nightmares.

You arrived in the throne room, struck by awe of the magnificence and darkness that permeated that space. “It’s…beautiful,” you said, not entirely sure if that is how you felt or not. Rhys chuckled lowly next to you, the gravelly sound sending a jolt through you that had you curling your toes. “I don’t know if that is how I would describe it, darling, but it’s certainly more beautiful when illuminated by your presence.” You blushed as Rhys took your hand, guiding you up to the dais where his throne rested.

“In the history of the Night Court, this has been the one and only throne. It is tradition that only the High Lord has ever sat on this throne, and that he takes an oath to kneel to no one.” Rhys’s eyes are burning into you as he speaks; you look at him with anticipation for what he will say next, and the raw heat in his eyes makes you forget how to breathe for a moment. Rhys gestures to the throne, “sit down, darling.”

You step up to the throne and turn around as if you are about to sit, but you are nervous. You’re breaking thousands of years of tradition, and this is Rhys’s court you are potentially disrespecting. You realize your mental shields must have been down when Rhys smiles, stating, “no darling, this is our court now. Claim your throne.” You sit on the throne, surprised by the power you feel as you run your hands along the arm rests and look upon the vast room.

You look to Rhys, eyes locked on each other as he approaches you with a predatory grace, and sinks to one knee before you. “My love, my High Lady, this throne is yours as it is mine. We will reign over our court together as long as we both live.” He moves to grab your ankle with his hand and begins undoing the straps of your heel. “I have new thrones being made for the both of us, but I wanted to introduce my High Lady on this throne before I dispose of it,” he says, slipping off your shoe and placing a kiss to your ankle, never breaking eye contact. Sliding his hands up your calf to your thigh, Rhys pulls your leg back and hooks it over the arm rest. He follows the same movements with your other shoe and leg, and you are left with only the skirt of your dress that has ridden up, barely keeping you concealed.

Rhys moves forward to kneel at the base of your throne and slowly moves your dress up to your hips, exposing your bare pussy to the cold air of the room and to Rhys’s hungry gaze. You feel the familiar feel of a talon soft against your mental shields, and you drop them just for Rhys to show you his view of you, sprawled on your throne, emitting unadulterated power. “High Lady of the Night Court, ruler of my lands and my heart,” Rhys speaks into your mind before diving into your center. He eats you out like a man starved, alternating between kitten licks and sucking your clit as he brings his hand to your core, slipping one finger in and instantly curling to the sensitive spot he’s now memorized. You gasp, arching your back off the back of the chair and Rhys smirks at your reaction. He adds another finger and you moan, “FUCK, Rhys.” An image flashes in your mind from Rhys’s view of you gasping and writhing under his touch. “Come for me, darling.”

Your orgasm crashes into you and your vision blurs, legs shaking as you regain your focus on Rhys, who is now bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth to taste your release.

When you hold court the next day - sharing your throne with Rhys as you sit in his lap - you didn’t think you could feel more “acquainted” with the place than you already were, until Rhys decided he was bored during Keir’s ramblings, subtly hitching up the back of your skirt and sliding you onto his hard cock. “Just keeping you warm until we can be alone, darling,” he spoke into your mind as you struggled to stay composed and still on the dais.

You might have to keep this throne around for the memories.

#fuck the patriarchy #and fuck me Rhys #rhys x reader #rhys smut #rhysand x reader #Rhys #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand x you #Rhys week #Rhysand week

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stxuxrniolochris · 2 months

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safari guide p2 - Chris Sturniolo

Summary~~ You work at a safari and famous youtubers rent out the whole place and one catches your eye. Will it lead to anything?~~

*not proofread*

Y/n pov

The night tour was quick because we were running late and had to speed it up. I still couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. I had a few small talks with Nick about their youtube career. It was honestly interesting but the whole time I was thinking about Chris. I also figured out he was funny, every joke he made could’ve killed me. That could also just be the excitement of the whole situation.

“Well that’s the end of the day, anyone have any questions.” I smile and the three of them. They shook their heads and smiled. “No, thank you so much, it was so much fun.” Nick beamed. I smiled before saying, “Of course, I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.” I walked off and heard collective ‘byes’ from the boys.

I walked into my tent and took a deep breath. What a fucking day. As I was recapping my day I felt myself smiling at just the thought of Chris. I sighed grabbing a pre-rolled joint from my pocket and walked outside. I wasn’t an avid smoker but I had a few at work to take the edge off. Some of the workers just do my head in. I can’t wait to see what the triplets think of the wake up call, I’ve heard it millions of times and I’m still considering death when I hear it every time. I go to the same rock as earlier, I always came here. I loved it. You could see nearly the whole safari. I took the joint in between my lips and lit the other end of it. Taking a deep breath in I looked out at the landscape in-front me, just enjoying the peace.

I was pulled out of my thought when I heard footsteps from behind. It was dark so I couldn’t figure it out but I just selfishly hoped it wasn’t any of my Co-workers, I considered this my spot. “Thought I’d find you out here.” A familiar voice spoke getting closer. I smiled and relaxed. Chris. “Hey” I smiled back. He was the one person I wanted it to be. And I barely knew him one day. “You smile a lot.” He stated while staring at me. “Sorry?” I half questioned while laughing. “No I like it, it’s cute.” My cheeks for sure went bright red, thank god it was dark. “You’re so corny.” I said shaking my head. “Yes but you know you like it.” He teased. I just laughed taking a hit, making sure to blow away from his face. “You smoke a lot?” He questioned. “Nah not often, just at work sometimes.” He nodded. I put it out beside me, making a mental note to pick it up incase the animals got it or something. I shivered, it was fucking freezing. “Cold?” Chris laughed. I nodded quickly while hugging myself. “Cmon” he gestured his hand out for me to take it, and I did happily.

I giggle as he pulled me by the arm in the dark towards the tent. He pulled me into one far away from the rest. He zipped it up and stood in-front of me and placing his hands on my waist. We just stared at each other. He moved his hands down to the bottom of your shirt and moved his hands under the fabric. His freezing hands against my bare skin sent shivers through me. The only sounds were are heavy breaths and the occasional animal noises. He leaned in and so did I. He stopped just in-front of my lips to a point where they were grazing of each others. Are noses touching along with are foreheads pressed against each other. “Hey.” He smiled against my lips. “Hi.” I breathed before he connected his lips to mine. The kiss was needy and hungry. His hands started to go up my top further till they were just under my bra, tracing the lace.

I pulled away briefly, “What about your brothers.” I whispered. “What about them?” He hummed still fiddling with the end of my bra. I know I shouldn’t do anything here but I needed him. I connected are lips again and he slowly walked backwards towards the bed, until his legs hit the end of it and sat down. I stood in between his legs as he manspread, looking up at me.

He hooked one of his arms around my leg and pulled it around, and did the same with the other so I was straddling him. He laid fully back and I sat over him, leaning down placing my hands of his chest to stable myself. I gave him a quick peck before going down to his jaw, kissing all over his face. His hands gripped my waist. He brought one up to my face and turned it to face him. “I was looking at you all day, you know?” He said slowly lifting the hem of your shirt up. “Oh yea?” He hummed back and pulled your shirt up more. “Can i take this off?” He asked, I nodded quickly helping him. My shirt was fully of and I was just in my bra. He stared at me playing with the clasp. “This too?” He asked. “If you take yours off.” I responded, feeling a bit insecure. He followed and fully took his top off. While he took his off I unclasped my bra. He stared at me and I subconsciously covered myself with my arms. He quickly grabbed them pulling them down. “No ma, you’re beautiful.” He said while kissing one of my breasts. He went back to my lips, kneading my tits with his hands. I held his face in my hands.

I heard rustling but just brushed it off as wind. Until I heard voices.

“Chris??.” One shouted.

“Where are you?” Another shouted.

I stared down at Chris shocked and scared. He looked more shocked than he did scared. I quickly lifted myself of him looking for my bra, covering myself with my tshirt while I looked. the sound of a zipper made me snap my head up, eyes widening. Chris was pulling his shirt over his head quickly when a familiar head looked in. Nick.

“What the fuck.” He stated blankly looking at the scene infront of him. The girl he met 12 hours ago and his brother, together, both shirtless. I stood there shocked not knowing what to do.

“Nick get the fuck out of here, I’ll be there in a few.” Chris stated waving him off. He looked at you shocked. Before laughing so loudly you thought he’d be oxygen deprived if he didn’t breathe in the next second. “Chris it’s not funny.” You said while hitting his arm, trying to hide your smile. “Kinda is.” He chuckled.

Well shit.

a/n: I hate this deeply, you can tell I wrote it in 25 mins.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #sturniolo imagine #chris x female #chris x y/n #chris sturniolo virgin #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo

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horanghaeluvsinniehae · 4 months

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SKZ!BFF DRUNKLY CONFESSING PT.2 pt.1

||BANG CHAN||LEE MINHO||SEO CHANGBIN||HWANG HYUNJIN||HAN JISUNG||LEE FELIX||KIM SEUNGMIN||YANG JEONGIN||

Disclaimer: the end is a bit bad im sorry

Hyunjin said he’d come over in half an hour, so you started to mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

You really liked him and have for a while now. When he texted you last night you were shocked, you never expected him to like you - if he actually does…- and to confess through a drunk text. Maybe it was a dare that’s why he was very apologetic now, maybe he wanted to text it to someone else. You sighed and started to make your apartment look presentable, trying to make these thoughts go away.

Soon there was a knock on your door. Your heart jumped out of your ribs at the sound and went to the door to let Hyunjin in.

You opened the door and there he was…holding your favourite chocolate in his hand like it was a precious treasure.

“I bought it for you because I know when you’re stressed you like to eat this…” he stated and held it up for you to take it.

Your heart was melting at his gesture. How can someone be this sweet?

“Thank you Hyune, you're so nice!” You looked at him and smiled. “Come in please!” You told him and walked inside with him.

While he took off his shoes while you went to fetch him some water. But before you could reach for a glass, someone spun you around and hugged you tightly. You instantly melted into his arms before you could process what was happening. He held you close to his chest and bowed his head so it was sitting between your shoulder and neck.

“Y/nah…I’m doing it like this so I won't chicken out” he mumbled into your skin and held you close. “I really really like you and I honestly meant what I said yesterday…even if I was drunk I spoke the truth. I hope you can forgive me for my actions and it won’t ruin our friendship. Don’t want to lose you…” his voice faded away. You could hear every emotion in his voice.

You lifted his head up so you could look at him and he can see that you’re serious too. “Hyune, I like you so much I can't even explain!! When you texted me last night I thought it was a mistake or a dare but I'm very happy that you meant what you said and I feel the same way!” You smiled at him and caressed his cheek softly.

At that moment you wished you could take a photo because the way his whole face lit up was just so beautiful and cute.

Suddenly he picked you up and spun you around while happily cheering. You shrieked but soon he put you down then shyly gave a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Sooo y/nah would you be mine?” He asked and gave you the biggest puppy eyes he could make. “Of course Hyune!! I’d love to be!!” You chuckled.

He gave you a big big smile again and hugged you tightly. He then picked you up and brought you to the couch and put you down.

“Now we’re gonna cuddle and watch something!” He said cheekily.

This man means so much to you and you still can’t comprehend that you’re dating.You happily cuddled into his side and just listened to him while smiling.

A/N: hi guys! I hope you liked it! I think this one came out so soft and i really like it but tell me your opinions!! Also do you want me to make a taglist or it’s not necessary? If you want to be on it either comment or text me in the request! Have a great day, be safe and take care of yourself please!!❤️‍🩹

#ot8 skz #ot8 x reader #skz #stray kids #stray kids fake texts #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz hyunjin #skz hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz fake texts #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #straykids #hyune

216 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 5 months

Text

Just Pretend-thirteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Okay, it's all fixed now! Sorry about the confusion. ENJOY!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

READER

The sun’s warms rays blasted through the large window and warmed my back as I snuggled deeper into the bed, holding the sheet closer to my bare chest. A familiar scent filled my senses while a familiar heartbeat pounded against my cheek as I slowly woke, realizing I was lying on a chest. A tattoo of flowers and a portrait of a skeleton and women were the first thing I saw once the sleep haze faded. The chest rose and fell with each deep breath it took. Arms wrapped around me, keeping me locked in place; those arms were lanky but building muscle, slowly but surely.

I looked up at his sleeping face, feeling calm and settled for the first time in a very long time.

Opening one eye, he grinned then pulled me in closer to leave soft, pepper like kisses across my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lastly lips; my giggles echoing throughout my bedroom. The thin sheet laid loosely around our naked, tangled forms, and he hooked my leg over his waist.

“This was the only thing I wanted to wake up to.” He said, his voice deep and husky with sleep.

“I’m glad you stayed till morning, Noah.” I breathed across his lips as I propped myself up to kiss him. I

He brushed away my sleep tousled hair to hook his fingers behind my neck, closing the distance.

My eyes snapped open as my phone rang loudly, my seven a.m alarm shocking me to my bones, and I rolled over in the empty side of the bed to silence it. I groaned into the pillow, wanting so desperately to slip back into the dream. It felt so real to have Noah in bed with me, his bare skin against mine. It brought back memories of our night together in that hotel room and my pussy clenched with the need to feel that same release.

Ignoring it, I checked my phone, like I did every morning, and sucked in a breath when I saw a new text from Noah; mind immediately going back to the dream. After our workout, we went our separate ways, and I was busy last night with my art class and writing that I never realized he texted me around eleven in the evening last night.

“Oh, shit,” I sat up straight in bed when the new selfie stared back at me.

It was nice seeing you again, angel. I had fun tonight.

I analyzed the fuck out of that picture. His hair was messy, pouty lips, and his dark hooded eyes gazed down at me. His cheeks were flushed with a red hue and it could have been my already aroused state, but I knew what he did before sending this picture. It was clear.

“Fuck it,” I sighed while tossing my phone on the other end of the bed to lean over the side of it, pulling out the small box underneath my bed.

I rummaged through a variety of different toys until eventually deciding on my favorite. Double checking to make sure the door was closed, I shimmed out of my shorts and panties to lay straight back on the bed. My breathing was labored as my heart raced with the image of Noah’s selfie and my dream. All of my senses were heightened as I pressed the pink vibrator against my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my entire body.

I shut my eyes and worked; I saw Noah so clearly as I continued to let my mind wander. I kept shifting back to that night we shared, but also to something new. I fantasized Noah was in bed with me again.

“Turn over” he commands, moving out the way to give me space.

I do, quickly, and Noah reached down to pull the sheet completely off me, watching me with starving eyes the whole time. He hovered over me as he pushed my legs apart to lean down and kiss between my breasts, and slowly makes his way down. As I continued to fantasize, all I could see was him, and my vibrator was going off in different speeds; I imagined I might just die then and there.

I see him smile, it almost feels so real-too real-into my thigh, and he looks up to me through lashes.

“Say it.” he demanded.

“Say what?” My voice was wrecked, breathless, as my orgasm built low in my belly.

Noah’s teeth grazed the inside of my thigh. “Say it angel, say what you want from me.”

“I want you to make me cum. Please, I need it.”

A soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, across the tattoo of the Greek Gods. “Always, angel.”

Noah grinned, his eyes locking with mine as he kept contact, tilting his head down and licking my clit softly.

Some ungodly noise came out of me as continued to see him. My brain was so fuzzy, the vibrator must have been going off for atleast 10 minutes, I couldn’t stop. I saw his inches of hair, I could almost feel it tickle my thighs and could feel the warm heat of his mouth licking, sucking, biting.

“Oh, fuck Noah!” I puffed out. I didn’t mean to say it so vocally.

Fuck, Malcolm and Chase; if they were awake, they probably heard. But I didn’t care, I was so close. My knees shook and back arched up off the bed as my mouth fell open.

I took my free hand and scrunched it into a fist, almost like I was grasping his imaginary hair. I imagined him looking up at me, mouth over my clit with dark brown eyes gazing up at me. Rings over his fingers as his hand pressed down on my stomach to keep me in place. That sight did it for me just at the right time my vibrator send me tipping over the edge.

“Noah. Noah. NOAH!” I yelled while running a hand over my face, to bit into my palm.

Realizing how overstimulated I was, I noticed I came all over my sheets.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Whatever this is, it has to be chemicals that make me cling to you.”

Twenty minutes later, I cleaned myself up and dressed in another pair of lounge day clothes before stalking down the long hallway towards the living room where Chase and Malcolm were nursing their coffees.

“Do you guys want to hear this song I’ve been working on?” I asked while walking over to the attached kitchen to pour myself some coffee.

Malcolm smirked. “I think we already did.”

I raised a brow. “How? I just came up with it.”

“Noah, Noah, Noah,” Chase mocked with a high-pitched voice.

The blood drained from my face as I stared at them, mouth agape. I didn’t think I was that loud.

Right?

“Fuck you,” I pushed his shoulder as I stood behind the couch.

Chase ignored me and continued to mock Noah’s name in my voice.

“Right there, yes Noah!” Malcolm teased now.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked both of them behind their heads.

READER

Sitting on my bed with my laptop perched on my lap, my fingers worked hastily as they typed away the new song that kept replaying in my mind.

I know it's chemicals that make me cling to you And I need a miracle to get away from you I know it's chemicals and I need a miracle And I'm not spiritual But please stay 'Cause I think you're a saint and I think you're an angel.

I was so engrossed in the writing aspect that I almost didn’t realize the buzzing from my phone right next to me.

2:30.

“Shit,” I cursed while setting my laptop aside so I could answer my phone, my heart hammering hard in my chest.

It happened every day knowing what I was about to see.

Noah’s bright smile came through the screen before the richness of his voice danced on my ears.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself,” I smirked when I realized he was shirtless. “Noah, you realize it’s on 45 degrees outside, right? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He taped a thumb over his chest while raising a brow at me. “My body runs hot so I’m more comfortable without a shirt. Does it bother you?”

Quite the opposite, actually.

The suggestive tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know about his motives. With the selfie he sent me last night and now this? Noah wanted to tease me, well two can play at that game.

“I understand that. Malcolm has the heat set to 72 and I’m dying,” I sighed while unzipping my sweater, tossing it onto the floor.

The strap of my tank top slid down my shoulder, exposing the skin of my collarbone, and I saw the way Noah’s eyes darkened, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even through the phone, the tension was thick and when I thought back to what happened this morning, my skin set ablaze.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh. How’s your day been?”

“Good,” Noah shifted on his bed, most likely to get comfortable. “I just got back from the studio a bit ago. Might take a nap or stream. I haven’t decided yet.”

I pulled a pillow from behind me to lie down on my stomach, propping myself up on it. “How’s it going? The writing?”

The corner of his lips curled up. “Really good. How about you?”

I turned my phone towards my laptop briefly before setting it back to my face. “My mind is all over the place. I think I’m writing three different songs at once.”

Noah chuckled before a serious expression crossed his features. “How have you been, really? I know the last few months haven’t been easy for either of us, and I just-I just want to make sure you’re good, that, we’re good.”

“Can I be honest?” I bit my lip.

“With me, angel? Always.”

I let out a deep, steady breath, ready to fill Noah in on a part of me; one that I was worried for him to find out.

“I didn’t do well for a little. I was in a really dark place that Chase and Malcolm were afraid they wouldn’t be able to pull me out of. I kept playing Eiley on repeat.”

Noah stiffened. “I had Sympathy on repeat.”

“You did?” I asked with scrunched brows.

“Yeah. I even talked with Keaton. He-uh-gave me a great sign.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to tell him that Keaton gave me a sign as well.

“Being able to talk to you, to see you, has lifted a huge weight off My shoulders, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to not even send you a dumb meme. I’m-.” I stammered over my next few words. “I’m glad we’ve been able to start over. That means so much.”

I could have gone on and on, but was too afraid. I didn’t want him to jump to conclusions and didn’t want him to know why I was holding back; not yet atleast. I needed his hand on my shoulder atleast for now, until from what the dark side of my mind believed, Noah would pull away. I couldn’t risk losing him.

Not again.

“Well, I’m happy to agree with you. Things haven’t been easy for me, typically I would turn heel. But having you in my life makes me at ease. So I’m glad too. It means a lot to me, as well.”

We gazed at each other with our own dopey smiles for what felt like hours but in reality, was less than a minute until Noah cleared his throat while scratching his face.

“Do you want to meet up for brunch Tuesday? Bottomless mimosas?”

My heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice.

“Sounds great,” I smiled but then cursed. “Shit. Tuesday? Ah, I can’t, I have an appointment that day. Rain check? Cause we need to get mimosas. The orange juice Malcom’s been buying lately isn’t my standard.”

“Of course, anytime.”

Noah wanted to ask about the appointment, I saw it all over his face. He didn’t-he respected my boundaries.

“I like our little 2:30 pm routine,” I admitted.

“Me too, angel, me too,” his eyes sparkled.

READER

“Thank you for telling me your story, Y/N. I imagine it’s a lot to process within a short amount of time. Now that it’s laid out in front of us today, how does it make you feel? Are you sad?”

I stared at the women sitting across from me, my knee bouncing with anticipation? Nerves? I wasn’t sure. I had been rambling on the last ten minutes and wanted her to give me an inclination about how she was feeling.

“I’m not sad. Not like I was mere weeks ago.” I explained to her, “But, somehow I can’t help crying. Although things happened quickly, I can’t help but continue to feel guilt yet also ambivalent.”

The therapist, Dr. Poulos, sat straighter in her chair. “Okay. Let’s dig a little deeper. You chose the word ambivalence. That suggests strong feelings-in opposition.”

I played with the rings on my fingers, keeping my gaze on anything but her face. “I’m not good enough for him or anyone else and there’s a lot of weight I carry for that. Trey explained that to me enough, not to mention the other traumas I probably have hidden within me. I have guilt.”

“Why do you feel guilty? Why would it warrant guilt? You said yourself he forgave you, quickly at that. Does that concern you? Do you still feel as if you can’t be honest with him or honest with yourself?”

Fuck, she kept pounding out those questions.

I paused and stared at the plant she had on the left side of her dresser. A bit fuzzy because of the connection between phone lines.

“Y/N,” her voice snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

I sighed and began. “When I first got my diagnosis, it didn’t sound serious, but after a while it became more ominous than other people’s. I imagined my character as desolate as a shirt that had been manufactured incorrectly and was therefore useless.”

She tilted her head and smiled at me, gently. “You’re valid for feeling those things, it’s easy to look at your flaws and say, alright, this isn’t worth the trouble. It’s easy to believe you’re incapable of getting the love you deserve. However, I think deep down you don’t trust yourself, as much as you don’t trust anyone else. I think you’ve been running with nowhere to go.”

She got me there.

I didn’t appreciate the call out effect although I suppose I needed to hear it. But that didn’t stop me from getting defensive.

“Running from what?” I wondered while crossing one leg over the other.

“Running from a love you believe you don’t deserve, seems like Noah hasn’t done anything to misplace your trust in him.”

“Thanks, I already know that- just make me feel worse, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Y/n it’s not about feeling worse, it’s about the fact you’re a runner. You sabotaged the things you love the most. Camouflaging being self composed.”

I was numb in the chest; I wanted to close the blinds. I felt like it split me into so many parts. It was never my intention to run from him, I just couldn’t drag him down. Due to my continuation of silence Dr. Poulos kept talking.

“I’m going to be completely honest with the way I perceive everything.”

I snorted. “You haven’t already?”

“You go on the road one more time and leave your flaws at home. If you go into this relationship, you don’t leave the trauma from the other behind. You don’t communicate properly due to fear. It seems like Noah stopped you dead in your tracks, he’s a mirror almost, he sees you from the inside and that scares the hell out of you doesn’t it?”

I stopped her right then. “I wouldn’t say that, I just don’t want to hurt him more than I have or myself.”

I was stubborn as a mule. I wasn’t admitting shit. However, it seemed like Dr. Poulos already knew.

“That’s understandable, Y/N. However, I would say that just your mannerisms alone tell me you’re harboring such deep feelings but not allowing yourself to feel them due to fear of rejection, unhappiness-.”

With her hesitation, I felt uncomfortable yet also strangely calm. It felt like my guts were being ripped open and placed in front of me. Forcing me to look at them first hand.

“I think you need a rest.”

“Okay, I’ll go home and take a nap,” I retorted with a smart smirk.

“No no,” she chuckled. “A genuine rest! The bans are better with going out of the country right now. I think it would be good for you to go see your father. Talk to him, get another perspective. A father is a daughter’s first introduction to the shadow of men, and it seems like you have a good relationship. Communicate with him, enjoy yourself for a little while. When you come home, we’ll reevaluate things and see how you feel from there.”

I had to admit, going to see my dad had been on my mind heavily the last few weeks. I truly missed him and felt that some time away from everything would help ease the dark thoughts that continued to linger at the back of my mind.

“So, do Tuesday’s work for you?” Dr. Poulos spoke while opening up her schedule book.

“Yeah. But if we can keep it in the mornings? I already have something scheduled at 2:30 I can’t miss.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

READER

“Fuck, angel. I can’t believe you’re going to Japan without me,” Noah pouted out his bottom lip in a playful sadness.

I giggled while holding the phone as I sat on the couch in the living room. It was our typical 2:30 FaceTime call, and I took it in the living room with Chase and Malcolm, who were playing a video game.

“I’m so excited. When I brought up the idea to my dad, he immediately bought me a plane ticket and already is planning our week together. There’s so many different places he wants to take me. I don’t think he expected Chase and Malcolm to tag along but nonetheless, he’s happy.”

“I’m happy for you. It will be good for you, mentally, to take a break. You deserve it.”

"Which reminds me; do you think you or one of the guys could come check on Salem for me? Just to make sure he has food and water while we're gone?" I bit my lip, hoping the action would make Noah agree.

He licked his lips, voice turning dark. "Yeah, of course. We'll take care of him."

I rested my chin on my palm as I propped my elbow on the back of the couch. “I’ll have to cancel our gym sessions and might miss a few Facetime calls.”

He placed a hand over his chest, faux betrayal on the soft features of his face. “How will I ever go on?”

Chase snorted and pushed his face into the camera of my phone. “Dude, we’ll miss you too. No need to cry over us, though.”

Noah glared while flipping them off.

For once, Noah was actually wearing clothes, admittedly much to my dismay, a read sweater. He sat at his desk with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck as he worked on a Rubik’s cube. While I loved our daily FaceTime calls, there was this deep lingering feeling that it would only hurt in the end when it stopped.

Not if it had to. When it had to because like everything else in my life, good things never lasted long.

I pushed Chase back on his end of the couch. “I hate those things.”

Noah motioned towards the cube in his hands, and I nodded. “I never could get them right. I’d get aggravated so fast and toss it in the garbage.”

“Take’s patience, angel. I have a lot of it.”

I blinked, almost as if I had been slapped at hearing his words; memories from that night crawling back to my subconscious.

“I’m known for having a lot of fucking patience. I will wait."

“Angel?”

Noah’s concerned voice snapped me out of my haze, and I hummed. “Did you say something?”

“When’s your flight?” He asked.

“Sunday.”

“That’s in two days,” Noah’s shoulders fell.

I somberly nodded. “I know. Like I said, my dad’s excited to see me.”

With the look on his face, I knew Noah wanted to see me one more time before leaving but he wouldn’t come out right and say it. Instead, he changed the subject slightly.

“What about you?” He clicked something on the keyboard of his computer, eyes only leaving the phone for a few seconds before giving his attention once again. “Are you excited?”

A large grin pulled at my lips while I shifted my position on the couch, now facing the television, Malcolm winning in whatever game him and Chase were playing.

“I haven’t been in so long, I have this dream-,” the words died on my tongue, not wanting to go into it with Noah.

I already thought it was silly. I didn’t need Noah to think that as well.

“Dream about what?” He wondered.

“Nothing, it’s way to girly, way to out there. You don’t want to hear that shit,” I laughed while casting my eyes away from the screen.

“Well, excuse me then. Just pretend I’m your girliest friend,” Noah changed the pitch of his voice to be higher. “Come on; I want to know. Your dreams are important, to me.”

I broke out in laughter “You’re an idiot Noah Sebastian.”

“I’m cool with that, angel,” he shrugged. “Tell me!”

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. “Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It’s so peaceful and quiet with my closet friends and family. One and done romance type shit.”

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

“What? I freak you out, girlfriend?” I joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. “No. I- uh, who’s the groom?”

“I don’t know, never got that far. It’s always been the small child in me’s dream.”

Why the fuck would you bring up marriage, you idiot! His face went white, and he changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Hmm.” Noah adjusted the headphones on his head. “Well, it’s going to be a lot of fun seeing your dad. I also have a list of shit I’d like for you to find me, please.”

“Okay, hang on let me get a pen,” I giggled while rolling off the couch to head into my room where I knew one was.

READER

“Y/N, dear, have you seen my-?”

I smiled while holding up my dad's wallet as he patted down every pocket of his jacket and pants. “Wallet?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head as he took the wallet, sticking it in his back pocket. “I’m almost ready to go. I’m so excited to show you guys the local market. I get all of my mochi’s from there.”

My heart skidded to a rapid pace, an image of Noah popping in my mind.

Chase walked out of the guest bedroom with Malcolm following close behind, tying his long hair back into a bun. “We really appreciate you letting us stay with you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

My dad waved Chase off. “You two have become like sons to me and everything you did to help, Y/N. It means a lot.”

I wrapped my arms around my dad, letting the familiar comfort and warmth of his presence radiate around me. It’s been years since I seen him but from the second he picked us up from the airport a few hours ago, my dad and I picked up right where we left off. The only difference were the wrinkles next to his eyes and the graying hair.

Just as I was about to open my lips to speak, my phone buzzed in my hand. My dad noticed and peered down at the screen with confused eyes.

“Mochi? You have your own mochi delivery service? Who’s the guy in the picture?”

Embarrassment filled me as my cheeks reddened with undeniable heat. Malcolm looked at the watch on his wrist and whistled low.

“Even with the time difference, Noah is spot on with their FaceTime calls,” he said.

Chase raised a finger. “Wait, is his contact name Mochi?”

“Noah, why is that name familiar?” My dad rubbed his chin. “Oh, he’s the guy that filled in no your last tour.”

“Yep,” I said popping the ‘P’.

“Does he have braids in that picture?” Malcolm tried to reach for my phone, that kept buzzing from the call, but I slipped away from him.

Now a few feet away from them, I answered the call with a small smile. Noah was bundled up in a variety of blankets, the orange glow of his neon lights shining from behind his bed.

“Hey, it’s kind of early there, no?” I said.

He yawned while rubbing his eyes. “7:30 in the morning. But it’s 2:30 your time, and I wanted to make sure you landed safely.”

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart fluttered with the concern in his voice and even though it was early morning in Los Angeles, he still made our 2:3o phone call; no matter how exhausted he looked.

“Did you set an alarm?” I questioned.

“Yep, even googled the time difference so I knew when to wake up.”

“Wow,” I stuttered. “You really-uh-you didn’t have to wake up so early just for our phone call, Noah.”

“Angel,” he readjusted his position in bed to lay one hand under his cheek. “I’d stop whatever I’m doing for these phone calls. They mean a lot to me.”

I swallowed the happy tears that burned in my throat. “Me too.”

“Mochi!” Malcolm popped up from behind me to make his face appear on the screen.

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Malcolm.”

“Oh, Mochi. We miss you! Do you miss us?” Chase now appeared on the other side of me.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes.

Pushing them away from me, I stepped into a quieter area of my dad's apartment. “Sorry. They say the contact name and the picture of you in the braids.”

Something unreadable flashed in Noah’s eyes but I couldn’t read into it; it was gone that quickly.

“My contact name in your phone is Mochi?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I bet mine is Angel.”

His silence was the answer I needed.

“You know,” Noah began. “I miss you already and proud of you, angel.”

“Proud of what?” I raised a brow while leaning against the wall with my shoulder.

“Doing something for you, not holding back.”

My heart continued to beat at a rapid pace while the butterflies burned low in my stomach. “Thank you, Mochi, that means a lot to me. Coming from you, truly.”

“Always angel,” He yawned with a smile. “Anyway, I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you. But maybe-uh-when you’re back we can go out.”

“Go out?” I said the two words carefully, making sure I heard him correctly. The pounding in my ears made it difficult.

“Like hang after our class or something.”

If he was nervous to ask me that, Noah gave no indication. He was his typical suave self; with messy bed head, tired eyes, and deep voice laced with exhaustion. The entire sight made my core burn with desire and I had to clench my thighs together.

“I’d love that, Noah,” I finally said after a few beats of silence.

“Alright cool,” he grinned.

“Cool.”

Even though now, we stayed so far from each other, I’d keep him in my mind, until eventually our lonely limbs connected again.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

241 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

Text

The perfect guy

I'm wondering whether to post once a week or twice a week. I've already drafted the entire story, so the parts should be posted regularly.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

I got the idea for this from the song below, but I drew inspiration for the storyline from this fic that I love! Please check it out if you like mine!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of masturbation including fingering (fem).

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She tossed her bag aside and collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted after a long day in the lab. The TV switched on in front of her and her AI's handsome face appeared on the screen.

“X?” Miguel asked, his expression arranged into one of concern. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)” X smiled at the term of affection. He’d started using them a while ago, but she wasn’t sure what had given him the idea. Sure he could have found it in a dictionary or some book or TV show online, but there was no actual reason for him to say it: it wasn’t like he could physically experience feelings and emotions. No matter how much she might have wanted him to.

He liked it when she smiled. Well, he supposed he liked it - he wasn’t sure what it meant to ‘like’ something, but he’d always feel this spark in his programming every time he saw her smile and he'd do anything he could to replicate it. He rearranged the pixels making up his features into a smile that reflected hers.

“I’m just tired, Miguel,” she reassured him. “It’s been a long day.” She’d spent the entire day finishing up his heart, but she still hadn’t made a dent in the seemingly infinite list of all the things his human body would need.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel suggested, following her usual routine after a tiring day. “I can order you dinner?” She was a pretty bad cook - despite the numerous times he’d patiently instructed her on a few basic recipes - so he was used to having to order her food most nights. If only he had a physical body, then he could cook for her; he could take care of her, like he’d read about and seen people doing for their partners in the vast amounts of media he’d consumed online.

X nodded happily and pushed herself off her seat. “Thank you.”

She headed over to her bathroom and set her phone down by the sink before taking her clothes off. Miguel followed, transferring himself to the smaller device so he could keep up with her.

“Which playlist do you want tonight, querida?” he asked, opening up her music app in preparation.

“Hmm, ‘love songs you’d sing along to in the car’?” His first thought was whether she thought about him whenever she listened to the playlist. She must have been thinking about him: it was why she’d created him, after all - to be the ‘perfect guy’. But … there was still so much he couldn’t give her - namely, touch. He’d read about human touch; seen the effect that stimulating someone’s body could have on their physical and mental state. And he could feel that same spark in his code whenever he pictured the two of them touching each other like that - when he simulated himself being able to give her that. But then she’d wake up and all he could do was chase after her on whatever screen was closest, his code slowing down as he lamented the distance between them. He started up her playlist and another spark hit him when she began singing along happily.

“Querida,” Miguel began when she’d stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, “can I look at you?”

Her entire body heated up at his request. He couldn’t feel emotions, so he didn’t understand shame, giving him no reason to hesitate when asking her for such things. But he wasn’t able to feel lust either, so she wasn’t sure why he’d kept asking her for it after that first time she’d accidentally let him see her naked. She bit down an amused snicker and propped the phone up so he could see her exposed form.

He’d already taken all her measurements so he could recreate her form digitally whenever she got stuck in the lab, but he liked looking at her. He liked the delicate column of her throat, the perfect perkiness of her breasts, the smooth dips of her waist. Her body was just so mathematically pleasing that his electrons would fire all at once whenever she let him look at her; another feeling he always ached to replicate. “Can you touch yourself?”

X squeaked with embarrassment at his question; she really should see if she could try to programme self-consciousness into his code. She brushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze before fidgeting in place shyly. “Um, where?”

Her lips were curled at the ends and she’d keep shooting him quick glances before breaking his gaze again: she was shy. Which meant that she really did like him after all.

“Your breasts,” he decided quickly. “They’re so pretty, cariño. Just like the rest of you, mi amor.” He lifted his gaze to hers and flashed her a mischievous smile. X bit her lip at the sight, then reached a hand up to squeeze one of her breasts gently. Miguel kept his eyes trained on her as she continued to touch herself.

“Can you show me your p*ssy?” he asked her, prompting another shy squeak to fall out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her do that, but that was another thing that had happened by accident - sort of.

She’d sit down with him most nights and listen as he shared with her whatever new information he’d learned that day. Then they’d go through which parts she wanted him to keep and which she wasn’t too fond of, allowing him to adjust his personality accordingly. But there had been one night when he’d asked if he could try talking to her - sexually. He’d revealed to her that he’d seen her search history - even though she always made sure to put him into sleep mode and delete all of it after she was done pleasing herself - and as her partner, he wanted to be the one to do that for her. She’d hesitated at first, nervous, but he’d slowly convinced her with the reminder that he was made for her and that he was an AI anyway, so what was there to be embarrassed about? And then holy shit! The way he’d murmured into her earphones, his voice low and thick like honey? The filthy things he’d said to her, promises of all the things he’d do to her once he had a physical body? She’d come even faster than the first time she’d ever touched herself! She pulled her chair over and sat down on it, spreading her legs apart. Her phone brightness increased almost immediately, like its power supply had shot up at the sight of her naked.

“You have such a pretty little p*ssy, cariño,” Miguel praised her, his voice low and sweet, “so soft and so cute. I love it when you touch yourself, querida, your delicate fingers playing with your tender clit. Can you imagine how much bigger my fingers will be, cariño? My thick fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, your c*m dripping all over my hand as I please you. Would you like that, mi amor? Would you like me to please you like that, mi princesa preciosa?”

X nodded as she brushed her fingers along her sensitive nub, her body beginning to get aroused as she imagined him touching her like that. “Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel, please … I want you so bad, querido!”

Miguel chuckled and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice.

“Show me,” he commanded her, his processor starting to speed up at the sight of the desperate expression on her cute little face. “Show me how bad you want me, mi amor.” Her legs twitched as she slipped two fingers inside herself, the movement easy thanks to the slick c*m dripping out of her poor little hole. She spread herself a little wider as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself and Miguel felt a flurry of sparks attack his system as he watched her please herself to the sound of his voice.

“I want you to take your c*m and spread it all over your breasts, mi princesa,” he told her, his camera moving to focus on the way her chest heaved up and down with shallow breaths. “Then I want you to finger your nipples while you keep playing with that pretty little p*ssy of yours. Look at how desperate she is, querida; look at how badly she's begging for me to fill her up. Do you want me to fill her up, mi amor? Do you want to feel my cock stuffed inside that tight little p*ssy of yours?”

X whimpered as she nodded again, her body beginning to contract just at the idea of his fat cock filling her up so very nicely. He was going to feel so good, so effing good once he was real, his hard body pressed up so nicely against hers.

“Mmm, you want to feel my thick cock stuffed inside that tiny little p*ssy of yours?” Miguel asked, refusing to let up until he beautiful little body was shaking and shuddering with pleasure for him. “You want me to stretch you out and fill you up while you sit on me and let me do whatever I want to you?” X let out a choked gasp of agreement, imaging herself being held up by his hard length as his warm hands played with her body however he wanted.

“What do you want me to do to you, querida?” Miguel pushed. “How do you want me to touch you while you sit on my cock all nice and pretty for me?” Holy shit! She could just picture him licking and sucking on her breasts as he thrust his hips into hers, his hands arching her lower back as he pumped himself in and out of her.

“I … I want …” A desperate whine escaped her throat as she lost a rational thought and Miguel chuckled at the helplessness in her tone.

“You want me to touch your breasts?” he asked, knowing exactly what she'd want from him once he was real, once he had lips to kiss her, hands to tease her, teeth to nip at her. “You want me to stroke and squeeze those delicious little breasts of yours while you sit on my cock, all pretty and waiting for me to fill you up with my c*m? You have such pretty breasts, querida, I'm gonna eat you up while you're sitting on my cock and letting me fill you up with my c*m.

“You're such a good girl, querida,” he praised her, determining from her now clumsy movements that she was quickly reaching her edge. “So pretty and so sweet, letting me fill you up whenever I want; letting me relieve myself inside of you whenever I need it. What a good girl, querida.”

X whined loudly at the huskiness of his voice, at the thought of his c*m filling her up entirely, her body bent backwards over the chair as he devoured her breasts hungrily. Her body tightened and she bit her lip before shuddering uncontrollably, her p*ssy throbbing and contracting around her fingers as she reached her climax. She slumped over in her seat once she was finished, still panting for breath as she glanced up at him.

“Slow down, Miguel,” she warned him softly. “I don't want you to cause another blackout.” It had happened before, when he'd run his programme too quickly and started overheating - an incident that she noticed only ever occurred when he was watching her touch herself. His code was always fine when she turned him back on again though, so she could never figure out what caused the sudden power surge. Well, aside from the fact that he got … excited? If that was even possible for a computer system to do.

She was so nice to look at when she came, that blissful expression on her face, her perfectly curved body shaking and shuddering for him. If he could yearn, then he yearned for the day he could make it happen in real life; the day he could actually do to her all the things she wanted him to. He switched off some parts of his programme and waited for his processing speed to slow down again so he wouldn't go into overdrive. “Your food's here, angelita.”

X grinned as she stood up and grabbed her pyjamas, relaxed now that she'd found some release. “Thank you, querido.”

Miguel smiled at her use of the term. She didn't speak to him like that often - not as often as he did to her - and he wasn't sure why. He'd tried asking her once, curious to know if he'd done something wrong, but she'd just stammered awkwardly before telling him that she didn't want to talk about it. He abandoned the thought as she went to get her food, chasing after her as she left her bedroom.

Dr Osborn strode over the freezer room, his path lit up only by the emergency lights dotting the ends of the corridors. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then continued on his path to the locked metal unit with his junior scientist's name on it. He opened it up and, with gloved hands, carefully extracted the human heart she'd been working on when she thought he wouldn't notice. He admired the perfect vessels and valves adorning the beautiful organ, then cautiously placed it right back where he'd found it. Then he marched back to his office and dialed the confidential number they'd given him.

“Hello?” he began when a gruff voice on the other end of the line greeted him. “I have someone who can do what you've been asking for.”

Tags: @jadeloverxd

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 6 months

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You laugh, lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nothing, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

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wishamongtheflowers · 5 months

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Connection

"Hiroa you know why I don't visit often. I have a 'life' to 'live' or play pretend."

"You know she loves when you visit. I understand your fear of hospitals but, it's been awhile since you've been at home."

"Your home. It's not mine. How many times do I have to correct you till you get it right."

Hiroa thought the same. Kido was incorrect but he knew her trust in him and his wife is fragile so he wasn't going to tease her. This was normal banter for the two after being trapped in a hospital which was -recently- destroyed to make room for a new hospital. Hiroa knew Kido held her emotions in a breaking bottle.

For a while now he has been patient with Kido opening up with what she wanted to talk about. When it comes to Kido, Hiroa waited for her to reach out. He was the only one who she struggled to not call him Dad and his wife Mom. It means a lot more than anything to them as they couldn't have their own children. A lot more than Kido's luck could make her acknowledge. If it wasn't for the laws being a road block, Kido could give consent and take their family name.

It's possible with the luck she possessed but, they both wanted her to decide if this was the best option for her. Besides, she ensured their lives. I'd make sense they do the same in return.

"Anyway," Kido continued, "if you both really want me to visit I'll see if I can given now busy I get around this time."

"Looking forward to it." Hiroa gave a tight, though brief, hug before continuing on with his errands.

Kido felt hollow for a moment from the ignored emotional enrichment she got just by the conversation. Hiroa's warmth buzzed through Kido's cold body washing her with care, comfort, and actual love she never been shown ever sense birth. It made her, in a long while, happy and safe.

Alas, she had to proceed with pretending to be a bystander. Kido needed to quale her confusion and frustration given by her distrust ripping through her cold body, fast.

She found herself within a hiking trail, surrounded by trees, grass, mating chatter of birds, whistling wind gusts, and peace.

Kido kept her feelings inside. Who would be able to care about such pathetic things from her? No one would truly understand her emotions. Reactions. Thoughts. And her mental state.

"Make despair desperate, use luck as its lead. If despair is given understanding, it'll follow. If despair is beaten, it'll rebel."

----------------------[Tags]----------------------

@mikado-sannoji and anyone else :3

#bloodhound: sight

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bloodymary83 · 7 months

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Joker and Martha

A friend of mine said that DC should have made Martha Wayne Catwoman instead of the Joker in Flashpoint because, it made more sense to parallel Thomas and Martha with Bruce and Selina because, of them being romantic partners but, I disagree. Martha even prior to Flashpoint had a lot of things in common with the Joker, both suffered from mental illness at a young age and were admitted to Arkham. As shown in “the Batman 2022” and “the Further Adventures of the Joker”, both completely lost their minds when they lost their child, Martha in Flashpoint and Joker in “Gotham Knights #54”,

they both love their respective Batman and constantly hurt them due to this warped sense of love Martha in “Flashpoint” and Joker in “Europa”, both self harmed themselves to prove a point to their Batman Martha in “Flashpoint” and Joker in “A Death of the Family”

both were jealous of Catwoman and shot her. Martha in “Flashpoint” and Joker in “Prelude to the Wedding”.

The only person who could make them cry was their respective Batman Martha in “Flashpoint” Joker in “Joker War” the similarities between them don’t stop there.

Both like reading in their spare time, both like purple, both have a set of pearls for special occasions, Bruce is the most important person in both of their lives, both dabble in art, both play the piano, both speak French, both had curly hair, both like to dance, both loved to go see plays, sadly both shared the same bleak philosophy of life after their child’s death.

Not only this but, the few times they met in comics the two instantly bonded. In “I am a Gun” Martha is very sympathetic with the Joker and consoles him by stating her son will help him, then encourages Bruce to do so. In “Streets of Gotham” Martha instantly takes a liking to a young Joker. She cares for him and keeps him with her at the clinic. The young Joker is so found of Martha that he risks his own life to save her and, ends up suffering a faith worse than death for doing so. As for Martha and Catwoman the only thing they have in common are the pearls Catwoman stole from Wayne Manor were originally Martha’s as seen in “Catwoman New 52”.

#dc comics #joker dc #batman #batman dc #the joker #batjokes #martha wayne #martha Wayne joker

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 months

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You're Safe Now

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: Hurt/comfort, discussions of past child sexual abuse and child pornography, PTSD, flashbacks, panic attacks, brief and mild self-harm Word Count: 1,799 NOTE: Child sexual abuse/assault is a deeply triggering subject for many people. If you're one of them, please proceed with caution. As a victim myself, I know that, oftentimes, I find great comfort in reading stories that include narratives like mine, especially when they make me feel seen and heard and cared for. At other times, they are terrible for my mental health. Please just be mindful of your mental state as you read, especially if you are a victim. And if you need help, please reach out to the National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-4673).

Casey looked over Stabler's shoulder as he scrolled through grainy photo after photo. Stills from hundreds of pornographic VHS tapes, all of abused children. "Any of them prosecutable?" Stabler shook his head. "Nah, not on abuse charges. These are all 25 years old. The Feds just want us to look and see if we can make any connections."

"All the same ring?" "Yep. A Baptist church, if you can believe it. Somewhere in Tennessee. Apparently the ringleader moved to the city about 10 years ago. They just nailed him last month." Casey looked disgusted. "I absolutely can believe it was a church. They're like breeding grounds for pedophiles. No offense." Stabler gritted his teeth. "Sunday school teachers. What an introduction to God." They watched the nameless faces scroll past in silence. So many kids, so much hurt. A child flashed past the screen–a little girl with glasses–and Casey blinked. "Stop," she said. Stabler stilled his scrolling and glanced back at the ADA, curious. "Go back." He dutifully scrolled back up the page until Casey stopped him again. She stared at the pixelated photo, sick to her stomach. A little white shirt, a Ramona Quimby-style bob, multicolored glasses. And the cutest nose–your nose. It wasn't you. Surely, it couldn't be you. You would have told her. But the child in the picture looked so much like you. And you had grown up in Tennessee. Going to a Baptist church. Casey cleared her throat, trying to disguise the shakiness in her voice. "Can you print that photo for me?" Stabler looked long and hard at Casey. "Yeah, why?" "Just print it. Please." Stabler handed Casey the printed photo, and she snatched it, folding it tightly and placing it in her pocket. "Thanks," she said, walking swiftly away with her fists clenched. Stabler watched her go, concerned. He made a mental note to mention it to Olivia. _____________________________________________________________ When Casey came through the door that night, you were curled up on the couch watching Parks & Recreation. "Bye, Bye, Little Sebastian" played in the background and you sang along absentmindedly, typing on your laptop. "Hey, love," you called. "I didn't feel like cooking. Want to order a pizza?" Casey set down her briefcase and walked slowly to you, heart pounding in her chest. She sat across from you and paused the show. You looked at her and frowned. She looked terrified. You had never seen her look so scared. You threw your laptop aside and took her hand. "Hey, what's wrong?" you asked. "You look like someone died." Your eyes grew wide. "Did someone die?" Casey took a shaky breath. "Sweetheart, I need to ask you something." Now, you were scared, too. What could Casey possibly need to ask you that made her this anxious? "Okay," you replied, your voice quiet. She took one of your hands in hers and traced circles on it. After an excruciating few minutes, she asked, "Did anything happen to you when you were a kid?" Your stomach dropped and you felt ice flood your veins. There was no way she could know. Nobody knew. "W-what do you mean?" "Were you..." Casey started, clearing her throat. "Were you... abused at all?" You felt panic rising in your chest, your throat constricting as it became harder and harder to take a breath. "Why are you asking me that?" you cried, your voice growing frantic. "Casey, why are you asking me that!?"

Tears threatened the corners of your eyes, and your body started rocking back and forth. You felt like you were suffocating. Casey held onto your hand even tighter, her own eyes glistening, as she pulled the folded paper from her pocket and handed it to you. Your hands shook as you opened it, and when you saw yourself on that page, everything inside you shattered all at once. "No, no, no, no, no!" you cried, grabbing your head in your hands and rocking more and more aggressively. All of a sudden you couldn't breathe. Just like you couldn't breathe in that Sunday school room. Just like you couldn't breathe with in front of that camera with the red blinking light. And the hands. So many hands touching you, all over you. You coughed and retched, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your pupils darted back and forth, overtaking the rest of your eyes. And somehow you were back there, back in that room. The black carpet with the rainbow flecks. The smell of stale hymnals and men's sweat. The taste of the wintergreen mints they shoved in your mouth when they sent you back to your unwitting parents, masking the scent of vomit. You clenched your fists over your ears and slammed them into your head, grabbing your hair and pulling so hard a tuft came out.

Casey jumped up and grabbed your hands, trying to keep them away from your head. "Honey, don't do that," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please don't do that. I'm right here." She tried to wrap her arms around you, but you shoved her away. "Don't touch me!" You heard yourself screaming, as if from far away, as if you were sitting in the rafters of the Sunday school room, but no one could hear you. "No! Please, it hurts!" Tears streamed down your flaming face as you rocked back and forth, hyperventilating, tucked into the corner of the couch. You were as far away from Casey as you could get. Casey had dealt with a lot of victims. She'd been emotionally invested in a lot of victims. She cared deeply for and fought for so many victims. But you. You were hers. She felt like her heart was being physically ripped apart as she looked at your tiny, terrified form. In that moment, you were a mirror image of the scared little girl in the VHS still. Casey wiped her own tears away, trying to stay strong because you needed someone strong right now. God, she wanted to hold you. She wanted to scoop you up and protect you and tell you that it was okay, that she loved you, that she would never let anyone touch you again. But you wouldn't even let her close. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," Casey said, biting her lip as she looked at you, then jogging to the kitchen. It seemed like you couldn't even hear her. She thought you were having a flashback, but she didn't know how to help you out of it. She dialed Olivia's number and prayed to whatever powers there were in the universe that Olivia would pick up. "Benson."

"Oh, thank god," Casey exhaled.

"Casey? What's going on?"

"Do you know how to get someone out of a flashback?"

Olivia's voice deepened in concern. "Is this about that photo you got from Elliot?"

Casey paced back and forth, rubbing her forehead. "Yes. I don't have time to talk about it now. Do you know how to help with a flashback? Please."

"Uh..." Olivia started, clearly trying to provide information and make sure that Casey was okay. "Usually they need to be reminded of what's real and what's not."

"How?" Casey asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice.

"Try engaging their senses. Something to shock them out of it. Ice, maybe. Or something with a strong smell."

"Okay, I got it," Casey said, sprinting to the bathroom.

"Casey, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll talk to you about it later, Olivia," Casey barked, more terse than she meant to be. "Gotta go."

Casey rummaged in the vanity, looking for a specific bottle of perfume. She gripped it tightly in her hand and ran back to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen green beans out of the freezer.

Casey took a deep breath before returning to your corner of the couch, where you sat curled and shaking and sobbing. She reached out to hold your hand, then stopped herself, instead grabbing the bottle of perfume and spraying it around you.

"Hey," she said, tentatively. "Honey, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm here."

Your body shook uncontrollably, your eyes clamped shut.

"I'm gonna put this ice on you," Casey said. She wasn't sure you could hear her, but she wanted even your subconscious to know that she was there and doing everything she could to help you. She dropped the bag of green beans in your lap and you gasped, your head shooting up. You looked around frantically, and Casey grabbed at the chance to pull you out of the flashback. "Hey," she called. "Y/N, can you hear me?" You seemed to look both at her and past her at the same time. "Do you feel the cold? Honey, that's real. Can you smell my perfume? It's the one you like so much, the one that smells like pine trees. It's real."

You were confused, disoriented, but your frantic breathing was slowing down, and Casey took that as a sign it was working. "I'm right here, sweetheart, okay?" Her voice broke. She was dying to hold you, but she still wasn't sure you'd let her, and she didn't want to make it worse. "I'm right here with you. I love you, and I'm real. We're in our apartment, and that's real. Those men who hurt you, they're not real anymore." You kneaded the bag of green beans in your hands, still rocking, but less aggressively. Your vision was coming back into focus, the overlap of past and present becoming less confusing and overwhelming. You were finally able to look at Casey and see her. You looked into her eyes and a rush of shame poured over you. She looked terrified. Her face was streaked with tears. You didn't know if she was scared of you or scared for you, but either way you felt sick to have scared her.

Your face screwed up in tears and you looked away, burying your head in your hands. "I'm sorry, Casey," you cried. "I'm so sorry."

She surged toward you, her hands stopping inches short of your skin. "It's okay, Y/N, it's okay. I'm right here. Can I touch you?"

You nodded, but you still couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

Casey scooped you into her lap like a child, wrapping her arms protectively around you and cradling your head next to hers.

"I'm sorry, Casey," you said again and again, anxiety and panic and exhaustion giving way to pure shame as you grasped her shirt and wept. "I'm sorry."

Casey had tried. She had tried to hold it together for you, but seeing you so broken, hearing you apologize to her for this horrific thing that had happened to you–it broke her, too. Her tears came all at once. "You don't need to be sorry, honey," she told you, pressing her forehead to yours, your tears mingling. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping snot from your nose. "You're like three years older than me."

She kissed the side of your head over and over, smoothing your wrecked hair and holding you as tight as she could. "You're safe now, Y/N," she said, for both of you, like a mantra. "I will always keep you safe. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

You buried your head under Casey's, making yourself small.

She rubbed your back, breathing slowly and rhythmically. You didn't notice, but yours followed.

Neither of you knew how long you sat like that, but after a while Casey asked, "Am I holding you too tight?"

You shook your head, snaking your arms around her waist. "No. Please don't let go."

"Never," she whispered, her breath hot on your cheek.

#casey novak #casey novak x autistic reader #casey novak one shot #casey novak drabble #hurt/comfort #law and order svu #svu #autistic #neurodivergent #casey novak fanfic #x autistic reader

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sexyandhedonistic · 9 months

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Faith (and feeling) is the secret: A small success story and what you can learn from it.

Hello, my loves. It’s been a while since I’ve made any sort of post on this blog. Today I’m going to be bringing you one of my many success stories. As someone who’s very private, I’m always skeptical about talking about any of them as they tend to be quite personal and oftentimes require me to disclose details to provide context. Even in this one, I’ll be keeping it occasionally vague and change a few insignificant details to preserve that privacy. Nevertheless, I feel good about sharing this one because I remember drawing so many comparisons and turning to a lot of what Neville himself said in his lectures and I applied what I’ve learned from beginning to end. Anyway, let’s get to the story:

This happened some time ago, it doesn’t really matter when but I had found out that a favorite artist of mine was having a concert after tickets had started going on sale. The concert was in one of my favorite cities which was a bit of distance from me so I was open to going, but not particularly compelled to. When I first heard about it, I looked up how much of the seating was occupied just to have an idea of how popular this concert was.

I couldn’t even see the seating chart because it would halt me with a “there are no seats available at this time”. Knowing the law, if I really did want to go, what I had just read meant nothing in the slightest, so I wasn’t discouraged. I continued to check from time to time to see if anything had changed and I would bump into the same exact notice. But again, I was still open to going and what I had read held no value and my reaction was no different than if I had seen a stadium full of blue sections. It didn’t matter one bit. This went on for two months.

During that time, I found out that some of my friends were going, so now I was more interested in going as well. I hadn’t particularly assumed I would go throughout, I was always thinking of the idea rather than from it. So, although for the most part I had no solid desire to actually be there up until now, I still knew that if I wanted to, I could be. Not once through this entire time did I feel stressed nor desperate. I always had faith.

It was the month of the event and I still didn’t have seats, and then they announced a giveaway which I entered. The span to apply was approximately two weeks and they would announce a winner a week before the event. That very morning, I was still hopeful about winning. I felt good, I kept thinking about what it would be like to be in one of my favorite cities hanging out with my friends and seeing one of our favorite artists. And then I decided to induce the state akin to sleep to really place myself into that state of consciousness.

I would like to mention something very briefly here that I’m not sure whether or not I have previously brought up, but whenever I imagine during the state akin to sleep, I see it as death. What I mean by that is that I am conscious of being something I don’t want to be before I induce the SATS, and the goal should be to come out of that imaginal act conscious of being something else. That’s how you should always approach the state akin to sleep. Die to the old state and identify yourself with the new one.

Having already been in Los Angeles on numerous occasions, I drew the feeling from that. I recalled what the weather was like at that time of year, I remembered all of the landmarks I would pass by, I thought about how happy I would be to see my friends, how excited I would feel to see one of my favorite artists perform, and I mentally placed myself in that city. I was no longer sitting in bed within four walls miles and miles away. I was in Los Angeles. I was surrounded by the hot weather telling my friends how happy I was to see them and I heard them say it back to me. I saw the lights and the streets, I felt the butterflies of making my way to the venue and finding my seat. I took all of those feelings and really let myself sit and become fully drenched in them until I felt happy to be there. (And I remembered to think from the end and not of the end. Remember that this is key. If I simply thought about being there, it would create no shift in consciousness.) I kept focusing on that feeling, I didn’t have a particular scene in mind, I was simply focusing on the senses and the emotions of being there. I felt happy that I was able to make it, I was thinking about how glad I felt for not taking no for an answer and the memory of the present moment of me inducing the SATS was something I had done last week.

I wasn’t keeping track of the time I was in that state, but it was roughly an hour. I hadn’t slept and the sun was starting to rise when I pulled myself out. I felt satisfied with my prayer and I reminded myself that if for whatever reason I felt uncertain I could simply do the same, so I felt good. I wasn’t anxious about whether or not I had done enough because I knew praying and accepting that it was happening was all I had to do and soon enough I’d be making my way to LA.

Then I went to sleep. The winners were to be announced in a few hours and shut my eyes assuming I would wake up to the good news. However, I didn’t win the giveaway, but I was a runner up and I was given access to purchase tickets at a heavily discounted price, which in itself was a good start to my trip to LA. I didn’t have a particular seat in mind when I saw myself there, but I did want to be close and I was (4th row from the stage). A seat that would’ve cost me about $230 went down to $60, so I snagged it. If you’re familiar with the You Are In Barbados story, this was my “Good news, Mr. Goddard” moment. It was happening.

I had my trip, I booked my flights, I prepared everything and within a week I was on my way to see so many of my favorite people in one city. I was ecstatic the entire time leading up to it and I enjoyed myself to death. The concert was on a weekend and I was back home by the time the week started. It was Tuesday and I was checking my inbox and for some reason I felt like going through my spam folder. And I came across an email that stood out to me.

It was an email from the event telling me that one of the winners hadn’t responded so I was next in line and I had won two tickets plus the opportunity to meet them. Now, I admit that I did think the giveaway was going to be the how in my story. When I induced the state akin to sleep, I didn’t visualize myself winning, I visualized myself being in LA because that was the actual end. What I most wanted was to attend the concert so that was the end I was living in. Yet, that email served as a reminder that if I really did want to meet them, I very much could have. That would’ve been the part where Abdullah would’ve told me, “Who said you are only attending? You are in Los Angeles and you met them.” If I had that desire in my heart, I would’ve remembered to remain faithful to that even after the giveaway had ended. Remember that it always comes down to persistence and brazen impudence when it comes to whatever it is that you really want. Know what you want and reject anything that isn’t it. Nothing more, nothing less.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little success story of mine and you can learn a thing or two from it. I know I’m always here providing advice to the best of my ability and this particular success story attests to the fact that I practice what I preach to you all. I’ve also told you guys before that when you all start having successes of your own, your faith in the law will only grow more and more. I speak from experience!

So my advice to you from this story, as I always have advised:

Know what you want. Have a clear idea of your desire.

Facts aren’t important. The 3D isn’t important.

Go straight to the end. You don’t need to become conscious of things in steps. (This is why I focused on being in LA and not on winning the giveaway.)

Have faith. Always walk by faith and not by sight.

The takeaway is to not worry about the how in the slightest, only concern yourself with what the end of your wish fulfilled looks like. It is yours if you truly want it. Focus on the end only, not anything in between. If you know circumstances don’t matter and you are limitless, that you don't need to worry about the how, the when, the why or the if, the only relevant question you should be asking yourself is the following:

Do you want it?

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w1ldthoughts · 9 months

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The Forgotten One Chapter One: Cheers to Four Years

Pairing: CEO!Jack Harlow x Amnesiac!Reader

A/n: First chapter of The Forgotten One Series! So excited to do my first Jack Harlow AU. It’ll be emotional and stressful but hopefully you all enjoy it!

Warnings: car accident description, hospital stay and description of injuries.

When your alarm sounded that morning, you were ready to go. There was so much to do today with so little time to get it all done. With a mental list in mind, you tried to sit up in bed to grab your phone and type it all out but a heavy weight pulled you right back down to reality.

“Don’t know where you’re about to go without a good morning kiss or anything? On our anniversary no less? My god.” Jack whines, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you laughed. “Happy anniversary baby, you’re the love of my life.”

“That’s better isn’t it?”

The man’s smile says it all. He pulls you further into his arms, allowing your upper body to rest on top of him. “This—this is better.”

“Ever since you moved in, I think I’ve slept a lot better. Having this be our home instead of just mine has brought me so much peace. You bring me peace. Happy anniversary y/n.”

The kiss started off slow, lips lightly brushing together and filled with anticipation. Jack’s hands roamed your body, his hands finding purchase on the small of your back. He drew small circles against the sheet that was still covering your body, deepening the kiss. “We should skip work today, spend some quality time celebrating. Four years is a pretty big deal, you know?”

“It is a big deal but I have a big meeting at work today that I absolutely cannot miss. So I gotta go before I’m late. You and I both know my boss is all about us being 15 minutes early or we’re late while he shows up whenever he wants.” You tell him with a giggle, poking his nose.

He watches you get up from the bed and huffs out a breath, looking miserable. “So you’ll leave your boyfriend in bed who loves you so much to go see your terrible boss?”

“Yes, yes I am. Because this is my dream job and on the bright side he’s very sexy. So at least I’ll have something to look at.” After getting ready, you give him one last peck on the lips and tell him you have a gift for him tonight after dinner.

Pulling into your parking spot at Churchill Downs Inc. will never get old. The company was a foundational part of the state of Kentucky and you were lucky enough to get a small HR position out of college and steadily worked your way up to Director of Operations. Another girl who started at the company at the same time you did had climbed the ladder with you along the way and without Cleo’s support and encouragement during some very trying times, there was no way you’d be where you are today.

After swiping your company ID, you took the elevator up to your office on the 13th floor, welcomed by your assistant Ben who held your favorite coffee in his right hand and an overview of who would be attending the meeting in his left. Cleo came in a few minutes later to give a numbers update for you to present to the board, and to make lunch plans.

“I’m probably gonna order us some Proof on Main because I’m not leaving here until 8 tonight. Need to meet with Elijah down in accounting to make sure we’re on track and he’s been kind of hard to track down so I’ll be here for a while.” Cleo sits down on the couch in the corner of the room. She claims it’s her designated spot. “What time are you and Jack going to dinner?”

“Reservations are for 6:30 I think. So I’ll probably head out around 4:45.”

“I seriously cannot believe you guys have been together for four years,” she laughs. “Do you remember when we—“

“We don’t have to talk about the dark ages. Not when we had cubicles by the bathrooms and packed tuna sandwiches for lunch because we had to save our money to pay bills.” A shiver went down your spine at the thought of living paycheck to paycheck while having to dress up for various fundraisers and galas on a very small budget.

“Those were the days. Wouldn’t want to spend my nights watching ‘Good Girls’ and eating ramen on the couch with anyone else. I love you and I’m really glad we get to do this together every day.” Cleo states proudly, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

You stood up from your seat to grab her hand in agreement. “I love you too. And I will see you in 30 after my meeting. Wish me luck.”

“Please, you don’t need luck. You run this shit.”

Walking into a board room to speak in front of a group of men lit a fire under you that was hard to explain. Yes, Cathy and Rachel were on the board as well but they had probably been sitting in these meetings since you were in middle school. You walked around to the front of the board room and handed out the information sheets, giving everyone access to the numbers you’d be referencing and where they came from in case there were any questions. The entire board was in attendance, except your boss. Of course he’d demand that everyone be early and he was nowhere to be found. After giving it five minutes to see if he’d show up, you began to speak.

“Okay so I’m going to keep it short and just go over some big picture things for you all so everyone is on the same page regarding the schedule. We have racetrack inspections starting Wednesday and the repair crew will come in some time after to give a final ‘all clear’ and—“

The door opens and he walks in wearing a beige knitted top with olive green pants and brown New Balance 550s. How wonderful it must feel to be a modern day CEO. And comfortable. He simply sat down at the opposite end of you and was immediately handed all the necessary paperwork to catch up.

“As I was saying, we’re starting the newest season in the fall. Sports books open back up in six weeks which means that we need to beat out the numbers from last quarter. You all know that we had record breaking numbers in both wagers at $796 million and profit, which was at $319 million. From where we’re at today this quarter’s target numbers are $803 million in wagers and $360 million in profit.” You looked to the table at the impressed faces staring back at you, feeling proud. There was a very limited number of questions and the meeting was adjourned, everyone heading back to their respective offices, except for your boss who stayed behind as you grabbed your stuff.

“What could you possibly have been doing to show up to this meeting 12 minutes late?” You questioned him as he scrolled through his phone, very unmoved by your annoyed tone of voice.

“I’m sorry,” he put his phone down and stood up, placing his hands on your shoulders, making you relax a bit. “My girlfriend and I have pretty big plans tonight and I just had to make sure that Sadie cleared my schedule. You know she forgets things sometimes.”

You scoff, feeling tension in your shoulders again. “That’s because she wants to fuck you. So badly. Everyone knows that.”

“Well sometimes good things happen when you have sex with your boss. Like a four year, extremely stable, healthy and sexy relationship? Best thing that ever happened to you?” Jack beams, kissing your forehead.

“Hm, I guess life with you isn’t so bad, boss.”

“Hey enough with the dirty talk y/n. We’re on the clock.” He states, walking in front of you, getting ready to open the door.

“I literally didn’t say anything remotely sexual.”

He stops right as his hand touches the door handle, turning around to face you. His ocean eyes filled with pure adoration. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know I want you, all the fucking time.”

“Good thing you have me all to yourself then, huh?”

Your boyfriend gives you a knowing look, “I can’t wait to show you tonight how grateful I am to get to be with you.” He pecks your cheek and fully opens the door, heading back up to his office.

Before you knew it, 5pm hit and it was time to head home and get ready for dinner. You opted for a black leather miniskirt, a black top with an olive green trench coat and boots. Jack was leaning on the kitchen counter, typing away on his laptop clad in an all black outfit. Of course. After showering you with compliments and sneaking in a few cheeky kisses, it was time to leave.

The two of you headed off to the restaurant and were immediately seated in a private section for some much needed peace and quiet. He never really drank but for this occasion, he ordered two glasses of their most expensive wine.

“Cheers to us. Four years down, the best time of my life.” Jack declared, a light clink of your glasses hitting each other the only other sound in the room. “Here’s to so many more adventures together. I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too. Cheers bubs.”

He laughs, shaking his head at the nickname that secretly made his stomach tingle. “So…gifts. I know we said we wouldn’t make a big deal out of it this year but I feel like we’ve been working so hard and haven’t actually gotten to spend time with each other for more than a day outside of work in the last few months…”

“Jackman, what did you do?” You mused.

“We’re going to the Maldives in two weeks. Just you and me and a California king bed overlooking the second most beautiful view I’ve ever seen. The first is you being naked if I wasn’t making myself clear.”

“No, I got it.” You reassure him with a giggle. This was really the man you chose out of all others in this world. “And I think it’s a great idea. Thank you my love.”

“Anything for you, pooks.”

Now it was your turn. “I’ve literally been looking for something to get you for months because what the hell do you get someone who already has everything they could possibly want? And I figured it out. You’re always in the office until late and I miss you. So I got an upgrade for your home office and it’s being set-up as we speak. It's a noise canceling Livit Studypod so you won’t have to physically be in your office to get that quiet feel you need when you’re trying to focus. That way I can just be downstairs if you need a break or whatever.”

“That is actually perfect, you’re a fucking genius.”

“I know.” You respond, taking a bite of your food. “It’s why you fell in love with me, even if I didn’t like you. Not even a little.”

Jack sighs, thinking back to a time that felt like centuries ago. “And now look at you. Can’t get enough of me.”

“If that’s what you tell yourself so you can sleep better at night then I’m gonna let you have it.”

On the way home, you and Jack were belting out “Candy Girl” by New Edition. He remembered going straight right after the light turned green. Everything happened so quickly after that, but also the world seemed to be going in slow motion. The other car must have been going at least 60 mph when it hit the passengers side. There was glass…everywhere. His all black Aston Martin DBX spun eight times before smashing into the median, leaving behind an overwhelming smell of burned rubber and gas. Bystanders watched in horror as the Prince of Kentucky and his longtime girlfriend were pulled out of the totaled car, placed on stretchers and heaved onto different ambulances. The scene looked catastrophic and all anyone could do was pray and hope for the best.

Two days went by. Two days full of national news coverage about the young CEO of Churchill Downs Inc. and the accident. The man who hit them walked away with a few bruises on his face and a broken nose from the airbag as well as getting arrested for driving under the influence. The only sounds that could be heard in Jack’s hospital room was the steady beep of the machines and his dad Brian’s soft snores. It was the first time in 37 hours that he’d actually slept. His mom was sitting next to the bed, nursing her ninth cup of coffee in the last day.

The first thing he felt when he woke up was the searing pain in his left shoulder. Then the fact that his lips were chapped and he was in desperate need of some water. He blinked his eyes open and attempted a deep breath, groaning at the painful sensation that resonated throughout his entire body.

“Jack? Sweetie, hi.” Maggie whispered, tears escaping the exact same blue eyes that were now staring back at her. “You’re awake. How—” she blew out a breath that she’d been holding since she arrived at Norton Hospital. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? I can—I can call someone to give you more meds or—”

“I’m fine, mom.” He rasps out his voice hoarse from lack of use. “How’s y/n? I need to see her. Where is she?” Jack mutters, getting himself ready to stand up from his bed. His dad and Clay pop up immediately, broken out of their sleepy daze to ease him back down.

“You can’t go anywhere bro.” Clay tells him. “You broke your collarbone, a grade two concussion and got a pretty nasty cut on your shoulder.”

His dad places a comforting hand on his good shoulder, “just take it easy son. She’s just next door and we’ll take you to her when you’ve got a little more energy.”

“Fine.” Jack scoffs, feeling too tired to argue. “Is she okay at least? Can you tell me anything?” The trio exchange looks that make him feel like they’re preparing him for the worst. “Somebody please tell me. I can—I can handle it.” He whispers, trying to settle his breaths. And even though everyone in the room knew that he definitely would not be able to handle it, they had to tell him.

Maggie sat at the side of the bed and placed a hand on her son’s leg. “Honey, she’s not awake yet. And it’s not looking good. The—impact of the crash caused some swelling in her brain and they had to put her in a medically induced coma. They’re still running tests but she,” his mom pauses at the look in her son’s eyes. It was like the light had gone out in them and the more she spoke, the more despondent he looked. “You should probably get some more rest. We’ll grab you some water and food so you can get your strength back? How does that sound?”

He didn’t respond, just gave her a simple nod and reclined the bed back a little so that he could lay down more comfortably, even with his injuries. The thought of you sitting there helpless and in pain was ten times as painful as his collarbone or anything he was experiencing. His family stepped outside and he knew they were whispering about him but all he could hear was the consistent dripping sound of his tears onto the pillow under his head.

Taglist

@killatravtramp

@jackharloww

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow angst #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow au

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