Cove Hearing "i Love You" For The First Time

I'm okay, I promise

Pretending to be Okay when your really not is like smiling when your lips are dry. And I mean really dry. Dry to the point where they crack and bleed when you open you mouth all the way. Dry to the point where you can feel them stretch and break with every movement of your mouth. Dry to the point where it hurts to eat or drink anthing because it stings you lips and seeps into the cuts like salt. Dry to the point where you can feel you pulse in them and they almost burn with fever. Dry to the point that your whole face goes numb when you move them to much. But you smile anyway. Because it's temporary right? Drink some water and I'll be fine. Because all your friends are smiling and it would be weird if you didn't. You smile and you laugh even though it is torture and all you can feel is the pain in your lips. The pain as they just crack more. It's the same feeling when you tell people you are okay when you want to break down, or panic, or stop everything. Except it isn't your lips that hurt. It's everything. So it's okay to be messed up. To want things to stop. To say that you need help. To say that you just can't smile right now. So get up, go get yourself some mental vasoline (whatever that may be) and heal. You can do it. You dont have to break you lips to smile. And You dont have to break you mind to say "I'm okay, I promise."

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier lies on the couch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hoodie is slightly rumpled, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushions.

You approach quietly, drawn by an irresistible urge to feel his warmth. Without hesitation, you slide into the space beside him, immediately seeking the comfort only he can provide.

Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open briefly. For a moment, his expression shifts—the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—before his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice thick with slumber. “You’re here.”

You press closer, burying your face against the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling deeply. His scent envelops you completely—familiar and grounding.

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling the day’s tensions begin to dissolve. “I could stay like this forever.”

Your bodies fit together perfectly, the rise and fall of his chest gradually syncing with your own breathing. The world outside fades away as you focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I don’t mind if you do,” he replies quietly, his fingers finding their way to your hair.

His eyes close again, but that subtle smile remains—a sight that makes your heart flutter. Here, in the silence between you, words become unnecessary. When he adjusts his position, it’s only to draw you closer against him.

As consciousness begins to drift away, you tighten your hold slightly, unwilling to let go even in sleep. The last thing you register before falling asleep is Xavier pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his silent way of saying everything words could never quite capture, and his arms securing you against him—steady, reliable, exactly what you needed.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The sight of Zayne seated on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes but with his collar unbuttoned, sends a wave of longing through you. Your body aches with the need to be held—specifically by him.

“I need fifteen more minutes,” he states without looking up, somehow sensing your presence. “Twenty, at most.”

You retreat to the bedroom, arranging yourself among the pillows, the wait almost unbearable. Every minute crawls by as you imagine the feeling of being gathered against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. The pull toward him is almost physical, a tightening sensation that only his touch can release.

True to his word, exactly fourteen minutes later, the soft pad of slippers against hardwood signals his approach. Relief floods through you at the sound.

He appears in the doorway, and you extend your arms instinctively, the need for his closeness overwhelming all other thoughts.

“You’re early,” you note with grateful surprise.

“Apparently, I can do my tasks faster when I know you’re waiting,” Zayne replies.

The mattress dips as he slides in beside you, and you waste no time pressing yourself against his chest, your arms wrapping around him with desperate need. His body is warm against yours, and you sigh with contentment as his scent surrounds you.

“I’ve been needing this all day,” you confess against his shirt, feeling the tension finally release as his arms encircle you.

Zayne shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to study your face with the same intensity he gives his most complex cases. Whatever he finds makes him pull you closer, adjusting his position to maximize your comfort.

“Better now,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you before you feel him press a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The urge builds throughout the day—a growing, insistent need to feel Rafayel’s arms around you. You find him by the window, humming softly as sunlight bathes his figure. The sight of him—so vibrant and alive—only intensifies your craving for his touch.

“Rafayel,” you call softly, arms already half-raised in anticipation.

The moment he sees you, understanding dawns immediately. He spins toward you with a flourish, meeting your unspoken need without hesitation.

“Perfect timing. I was just thinking of you,” he says as he closes the distance between you in quick strides.

You collide with him halfway, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his chest. The contact sends immediate relief coursing through you—like cool water after a long thirst.

“You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

His arms encircle you completely, lifting you slightly as he backs toward the overstuffed couch in the corner, understanding your need without explanation.

“Then you shall have me,” he declares, falling backward onto the cushions and bringing you down with him in a tangle of limbs. “For as long as you need.”

You settle against him, fingers clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer still. He smells of turpentine and sea salt, of creativity and freedom. Your body relaxes completely for the first time all day, the desperate need that drove you to seek him out finally satisfied in his enthusiastic embrace.

You sigh contentedly, ear pressed against his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His fingers find their way to your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as your breathing synchronizes with his. Outside, seagulls call to each other, but neither of you makes any move to break the perfect connection.

“Stay just like this,” you whisper. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

His laugh bubbles up in response, the sound vibrating through his chest against your ear. “Then the rest can wait.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The longing strikes without warning—an intense need to be held in Sylus’s arms. Nothing else will satisfy this particular craving; only him.

You make your way to his room, the journey giving you time to acknowledge how completely this need has consumed you. You find him standing by the window, the city sprawled below.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he takes you in.

“Well,” he says, setting down a glass of wine, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

Words feel unnecessary as you approach him, arms already reaching for him, need written plainly across your face. You press yourself against him, inhaling his distinct scent, feeling your pulse steady at the contact.

“Don’t reschedule on my account,” you say, voice slightly muffled against his chest, though you make no move to pull away. “But I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Simply my company?” he murmurs against your hair, arms encircling you with practiced ease.

There’s something warm in his tone as he guides you to sit, arranging you both so you’re nestled against his chest, exactly as you’d been craving all day. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine, releasing tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“Tell me,” he says, tilting your chin up, eyes searching yours. “What brought on this sudden need for closeness? Not that I’m complaining.”

The city lights reflect in his eyes, catching on the edges of his features as he studies you with uncharacteristic patience.

You shake your head slightly, unable to articulate the bone-deep longing that drew you here. Words seem inadequate to explain how completely his embrace satisfies something essential within you.

“Just wanted to be close to you,” you answer simply, settling back against him, feeling the rightness of being exactly where you belong.

“Hmm… I wonder what you might demand next.” Yet his arms tighten around you. Outside, the city continues its evening pulse, but here, in this moment, his attention is focused solely on you, as though nothing beyond this room matters.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb tosses his uniform jacket over a chair, his face lighting up the moment he spots you lingering by the bedroom door. In an instant, his professional demeanor melts away completely.

“Caleb,” his name escapes your lips, arms already outstretched.

“There you are,” he says, voice warm with affection as he closes the distance between you in long, eager strides. “Best sight in the entire galaxy.”

His arms are around you before you can respond, lifting you slightly as he spins once, the movement playful despite the strength evident in his embrace. When he sets you down, he doesn’t let go, instead dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Please tell me you’re waiting for cuddles,” he breathes, already walking backward toward the bed, guiding you along. “Because after that strategy meeting, I’ve been thinking about holding you for approximately four hours and seventeen minutes.”

Your arms wrap around him eagerly, face pressed against his chest, breathing him in deeply. The contact sends immediate relief flooding through your system, like finding shelter in a storm.

“The entire room feels cold without you,” you confess, clinging to him. “Want cuddles.”

“Then you’re in luck,” he murmurs against your hair, already walking backward toward the bed, keeping you firmly in his embrace. “Because holding you happens to be my specialty.”

The back of his knees hit the mattress and you follow him down eagerly, arranging yourself against his chest, unwilling to allow even an inch of separation. His scent envelops you—warm and comforting.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he presses a kiss to your temple. Through the view beside the bed, stars streak by in ribbons of light, but his eyes remain fixed on you.

“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispers against your hair, his arms forming a protective circle around you.

In this moment, wrapped in Caleb’s arms, the rest of the universe fades away—leaving only the two of you, connected exactly as you needed to be.

Based on this request.

Xavier came home ⭐️

We Can Be Fucked Up Together

(Randy Meeks x Riley!reader)

Summary: You find solace in Randy after your best friend and boyfriend go on a killing spree

•

Warnings: making out, no actual smut but allusions to it, memories of murder, murder, former Stu x reader, backflashs to The Night of the murder, blood, reader having sympathy for Stu

•

An: This is My first scream fic, And I am very happy to be Writing about Randy. My baby deserves more love

•

The walls felt like they were closing in around You. You shouldn’t be alive, the blood loss was already making your head woozy and your midsection was starting to go numb from where you had been stabbed. You chose to believe Billy was the one who stabbed you, otherwise you’d Look Even more pathetic kneeling on the ground trying to stop Stu’s bleeding.

“Stop moving.” You mumbled while putting more pressure on some of his wounds.

“Im feeling woozy!” He whined, And you hated How it made you feel. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. He had killed people, he was planing on killing you, and yet your heart hurt to hear the person you’d loved for the past two years Be in pain.

“You’re going to die If we stay Here-“ You started to try and push yourself to your feet, but a gun to your back stoped you.

“Don’t fucking move,” Billy hissed.

“He’s going to die!” You yelled back, But You didn't try to stand up again.

“Then you better keep pressure on it until i fucking kill Sidney.” He snapped before running off to find Sidney, who had gone to hide somewhere.

Once the gun was gone Your attention went back to the man on Front of you. He had tears in his eyes, but an almost smile on his face.

“Why?” You whispered, unsure if you even wanted an answer.

“Why not?” He chuckled, jerking his arm up and pushing the knife straight into your stomach.

You sat up straight in your bed, letting out a small scream as you ripped at your shirt. The only thought running through your head was ‘i Need This Off.’

“Fuck!” You mumbled, struggling with getting the shirt up. You started to calm when you saw the lack of blood on your shirt. Another nightmare.

As you steadied your breathing, you couldn’t help but notice how small your room felt. How dark it was. You couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. You would either fall back asleep To Deal with nightmares, or Lay awake And Deal with memories. Not that you had a lot of places to go.

You could wake up Dewey, but his pain meds knocked him out. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him. Sidney wasn’t on the best terms with you currently; the two of you were never the closest in your group of friends. The only left Randy.

You stood up and pulled some sweatpants on along with a jacket. You debated going out the window, but you would have to walk the few blocks to his house and you weren’t brave enough for that yet. Instead you quietly made your way through the house, sneaking by your parents and brothers room so you could grab your car keys. Thankfully, your parents slept hard enough that they wouldn’t hear you driving away.

Driving definitely wasn’t the best idea; your entire body was still shaking and you didn’t dare go more then 10 miles an hour. When you arrived at the Meeks, you were quick to turn off the car to not wake the entire family and got out.

Just like you had the other three times this week, you found the window into Randy’s bedroom. You couldn’t see the man, but the tv in his room was on. You knocked on the window lightly, and it didn’t take long for his face to appear in front of you. He quickly opened the window, frowning at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you offered a small smile. He helped you climb into his room, and you took your spot on his bed next to him. He was sat with his back to the wall, an arm wrapped around you. You were cuddled into his side, watching the tv in front of you both. Nightmare On Elm Street.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“How can you watch this shit?” You ignored his question for his own, turning your head away from the screen.

“I love this movie,” he shrugged.

“I used to,” you mumbled. It was silent for a few minutes, saved for the movie playing, before you said something. Something that had been bothering you every day for the past 6 months.

“I should have noticed it sooner.” He tensed slightly, and you immediately regretted saying it; but you had to. The thought had been filling your head for months.

“You couldn’t have.”

“Ya, I could have. My best friend and boyfriend went on a killing spree, I should have noticed something.” Randy pushed you away slightly, making you look up at him.

“Sidney was dating him, should she be blamed for what happened too?”

“Thats different,” you snapped. “She fought back, I tried to save him!” You whisper yelled, worried about the others asleep in the house.

“Thats because its who you are,” he argued back. “You go out of your way to see the best in people, even if they don’t deserve it. Even after what Stu did, you didnt want to be the reason he died.” You flinched at his name, you hadn’t heard it be said out loud other then on the news. Dewey normally shut it off relatively quickly when it was on.

“You told me plenty of times how awful they were,” you pointed out. The tops of his ears turned a light pink, making you frown. Why would he be blushing?

“That may just be because I hated seeing you with them all the time,” he admitted.

It was your turn to blush, your face heating up a bit. ‘He doesn’t mean it like that,’ you reminded yourself. Randy had been in love with Sidney for years, the only reason he hadn’t made a move was to avoid angering the women.

You didn’t actually get a chance to say anything before chapped lips were people pushed against your own. You eyes shot open, surprised by the contact, and he quickly pulled away.

“Shit! Sorry sorry, god. What the hell os wrong with me?” He mumbled the last part to himself. He didnt get much time to feel bad before you reached up to pull his face to your own so you could kiss him again. He made a sound of surprise, but he didn’t fight against it; instead he kissed back. It wasn’t rough, but you could feel relief coming from him. Like any tension was being removed from him.

He pulled you lightly so you would settle on his lap, knees on either sides of him. He kept his hands on your hips while yours slid down to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly, like he would fly away if you let go.

This wasn’t necessarily a new position for you. Stu had you like this plenty of times, but it felt so different. Stu left bruises on your hips, Randy’s hold was gentle. Stu kissed with the intent of going further, Randy kissed you like he was thankful to even get this. Randy felt…safe.

Eventually you had to pull away, your lungs burning from the lack of air. You both stayed just as close, foreheads resting together and you coups feel his breath on your face.

“I thought…Sidney…” you mumbled between breaths.

“I never thought I had a chance with you,” he admitted. “I had you as a friend, so I thought it would be enough. But it wasn’t.” His eyes boar into your own, and it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

“Caring about me right now will be rotten work. I’m really fucked up” you told him.

“I dont mind. We can he fucked up together.” He offered, making you smile.

“I’d like that.”

y’all ever think about how bucky got drafted and acted like he enlisted so steve would think he was okay. or how bucky was tortured for weeks at azzano and acted like he wasn’t so steve would think he was okay. or how bucky was cryofrozen traumatically for decades and voluntarily chose to go back under so that steve would think he was okay. or how bucky blinked back into existence days before steve left his life forever and bucky acted happy for him so steve would think he’d be okay.

Whoops!

Anon request! Tysm!

Summary:sending the LADs men a nude then saying 'wrong person'

Warnings: 18+ themes, MDNI.

·˚ ༘Rafayel 🐟

·˚ ༘Zayne ❄️

·˚ ༘Caleb 🍎

·˚ ༘Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Finally ))))

CLOSE COLLABS with TOM HOLLAND

I wanna do some poetry. I'm back on this account //hopefully

Is anyone still here?

haunting the narrative

find me on instagram !

Fellas, once again, I ask your aid to denounce @ aeyumiicore for stealing other people's work.

It might not seem important, it might not affect you, but if you're one of the many who has written through your life fanfiction over one of your personal fixation I believe you can feel the anger when seeing someone having their work, their time, and their whole personality stolen.

All I ask is for you guys to reblog this. Let's do our best to maintain this fanbase clean and healthy for us, and for future players who might even become our colleagues and friends in fanfiction.

I won't write too much, I'll just drop their video screen I did.

Please be aware that this might happen to your work or one of your friends' work! Spread awareness!!

Don't forget to support the real writer, too! @aeyumicore ✊🏽 (love you, pookie, please rest).