#and it did reach my heartstrings

[shotmrmiller]

Uninvited, Unexpected.

a/n: it's nice until the very end. it hints at baby trapping. one solid sentence that's kinda degrading (i couldn't help myself ok) this was in the works for so long, i did so much research just to use words. english is hard. and ignore the plot holes, for my sake. my sanity.

this is SMUT. 18+mdni please (if im missing anything else, lmk)

ty to my wonderful beta readers @waves-against-a-cliff & @xoxunhinged

wc: 3,1K

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader

my contribution to the @glitterypirateduck ghost challenge. idc if i wrote it much earlier lol.

You're awoken by a loud noise. At first, you think you dreamt it. Exploding head syndrome, maybe. You strain your hearing but it's quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling, its old bones creaking in the dead of night. Rain gently patters against the windows, blurring the world outside.

A flash of sudden light illuminates the bedroom, casting elongated shadows across the floor, followed by a loud crack that rattles the glass. Thunder. You should've guessed.

The frantic beating of your heart slows to a gentle roll, and your eyes leaden with sleep. The soft pillows beckon, the warm blankets cradle you as you sink back onto the mattress.

Only for you to be snapped back into reality, drowsiness dissipating like a morning mist.

Someone's knocking on your door.

Your heart is in your throat as you quickly peel off the blankets, the chill of the floorboards underneath your bare feet seeping into your bones.

In the bookshelf sits the gun Simon had given you before he had moved out, the rumble of his voice a ghost in your ear. "For protection," he'd murmured, placing the cold metal onto your open palms. "Jus' in case."

Your trembling fingers fumble as you search for it in the dark, flinching as a couple of books spill from the shelf onto the floor, pages rustling in your urgency.

The knocking persists.

The metal of the grip is unyielding in your clammy hands. You've never tested it before, never had the displeasure. As you hold it close to your chest with a quivering breath, you hope tonight won't change that.

Simon's instructions echo in your mind as you approach the front door. "Thumb the safety. Hold the grip with both hands. Do not, under any circumstance, put your finger on the trigger unless you're plannin' on sendin' hate. Clear?"

Your throat tightens, a phantom snake coiling around the narrow passage, and panic grips your heart as you reach for the blinds, slowly hooking two fingers and carefully pulling down to look at who is—

Simon.

Simon?

Sweat-slick fingers flip the light switch before quickly undoing the locks, the hinges groaning in protest as the door opens.

"What the hell?"

It's Simon, disheveled— maskless— swaying on his feet. His eyes are half-closed and unfocused. Johnny's holding him up by the arm, struggling to keep him upright.

"S'ry, bonnie. We wen' out fer a few 'nd clearly, he's out 'is face. Quite crabbit, too. He said ye'd let 'em sleep 'ere," he slurs.

Simon's not the only one who's pissed. With a resigned sigh, you gesture at the couch with your free hand. "There, I guess."

That he thought of you even in his drunken haze tugs at your fragile heartstrings.

Johnny guides him to the catch, a quiet C'mon LT to spur him forward. Heavy boots thud against the floor as they stumble toward the living room while you carefully place the gun on the kitchen countertop before reaching for a water bottle in the pantry. Johnny snickers under his breath as Simon collapses onto the sofa, the springs protesting his weight.

Two bottles, then.

You watch Simon's head loll as you hand Johnny the water. "Tell me you aren't the one driving, Johnny," you grumble.

He takes it with a quiet thanks. "Naw. Cap'n's stone cold sober."

Small mercies.

Johnny gives Simon a rough slap to the side of his leg as he bids him goodbye, pulling you in for an embrace tight enough that your spine pops before walking out the door.

You let out another sigh as the lock clicked back into place. The tangy, sour scent of stale alcohol mixed with stings at your nose, as does the invasive smell of smoke.

His boots are mud-caked, and you'll be damned if he stains your nice furniture with his mess. "Shoes off." He groans but complies. The laces come undone quickly, and you tug his shoes off with a grunt. "Simon."

His glassy eyes meet yours. "Drink your water." The burning need to chuck it at his head is one you have to vehemently smother into embers. Moron. Only Simon would have the gall to show up unannounced months after the separation. And drunk.

You push the bottle into his chest roughly and make to go back to bed when he encircles his hand around your wrist and the world spins on its axis, suddenly finding yourself beneath him with his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

Simon's breath is hot against your skin, the weight of his body pinning you down so achingly familiar. It stirs up past memories that would have you pressing your thighs together if he wasn't right there, using his broad waist to spread them apart.

"Missed ya, love." A confession. "S'much."

The breath you draw is jagged, his slow-spoken words hanging in the air. You want to push him away, scream at him for stumbling in and disrupting your night, your rest, your carefully crafted peace. But there's a part of you that can't help but soften at the tenderness in his tone.

"Simon," you whisper. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying—" his lips find your fluttering pulse. You find purchase in his shirt, shaky fingers grasping at the hem.

"'M drunk, no' no liar." Your resolve wavers. No, he never had been. Honesty hadn't been the reason for the split. It wasn't the truth he'd spoken but the truths he'd kept to himself. A fortress around his heart, the bridge to its gates raised. Unwilling to share a burden, share a life.

His warm tongue licks a hot stripe up your neck reaching the lobe of your ear where his blunt teeth sink into it. A choked gasp spills from your mouth, spine arching in reflex— your treacherous body remembering his touch, yearning for it.

"Simon—" your words get caught in your throat; snag like fishhooks when he undulates his hips, arousal creeping along your veins like ivy.

"Don't ya miss me, pet?" You've asked him to not call you that because it never fails to stoke the fire in your belly, to sodden your knickers. Before you can chide him on his choice of words, he shifts. One arm, an inked column under the soft light of the living room, holds him up just enough to bring his rugged face into focus. His eyes, like a stormy night's sky, swirl with untamed desire.

You know it's dangerous to play with fire. Touch it and burn, ache, blister. But the passion of this old flame beckons like a siren with sharp teeth. Each drag of his prominent erection against your core only succeeds in pulling you away from the shore of clarity. It's disorienting, insistent.

Relentless.

"My pretty little love," he mumbles. Simon's gaze drags from your glassy eyes to the delicate contours of your collarbone. His fingers trace lines of intimacy onto the swell of your breasts before using the pad of his thumb to swirl the stiffened peak of your nipple. "Say the word 'nd it all stops."

The scent of alcohol clings to him, a bitter reminder of the loss of inhibitions it brings as it warms one's chest. Blurred lines he might not mind, but you do. Lost boundaries. Rejection sits on the tip of your tongue, on the edge of your teeth when he says something that frays the last threads of your resolve.

It comes undone.

"Please. Jus' tonigh'. All I need." His words sound like footsteps in winter mire, slushed, syllables blending together.

You'll just have to kick him out on his arse in the morning.

"Okay," you breathe. Just one night, you tell yourself. He's always been good to you in the bedroom. One last hurrah wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll allow you to finally close this painful chapter in your life and start anew, with pristine white pages and fresh ink.

Your hands, trembling with nerves and anticipation, cradle his face. The roughness of his stubble in contrast with the softness of your palms is grounding, keeping you from being pulled under your own swirling emotions.

" 'M righ' 'ere, love. You're safe with me, always." He whispers the last words reverently, a vow. Simon's breath mingles with yours as he leans in for a kiss.

The world around you fades, your senses tunneled on the feel of his lips, the taste of him— mildly sweet with a hint of peppermint. He slants his head to deepen the kiss, and the bruising ache in your heart is replaced by another, one that burns brightly and threatens to sweep you away.

The lulling sound of the pouring rain outside is drowned out by the beating of your racing heart.

The bed creaks when Simon perches you on the edge of it, quietly ordering you to take your top off.

"What about my bottoms?" You bite down on the gummy inside of your cheek when he pins you in place with a look— a predator eyeing its prey.

"Those are mine." Resounding. Final. A gavel in a courtroom.

You fling your shirt off, tossing it into some forgotten corner in the room, and cheekily watch Simon undress. It's not methodical like it used to be. No longer a means to an end. Experienced fingers undo the buckle of his belt before he takes it off, the leather material snapping in the air, slicing through the silence.

A quip tumbles out of your mouth faster than you can stop it. "Gonna spank me with that?"

The air around you thickens— or thins, you can't be sure— when his eyes flash to you. He kicks off his jeans, one foot after the other, wobbling as he does. "Tha' wha' you want?" The words he didn't say ring out loud and clear.

Don't rattle the cage, sweetheart. This dog isn't muzzled.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from saying anything else, something that he might take you up on, instead focusing on the way his heavy cock hangs in between legs (dangling with each step forward—)

"M'eyes are up 'ere." Your nose scrunches at his joke. Cute.

He lowers himself onto his knees, your legs cradling his face as it hovers over your sex, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your heated skin.

The sleeping shorts you're wearing are ratty and worn. They're thin too, practically translucent from constant use. Which means that he can see that you're not wearing any undergarments underneath.

"Hope you know I can—" Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, pooling in your cheeks as you cut him off with a snappy remark.

"Yes. I know."

The tip of his pointed tongue drags along the seam of your shorts, right along your slit. Your breath hitches, and you clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Your back bows involuntarily, the feeling startling, intense.

"Can see tha' clear as day, as if lookin' through a windowpane, pet," he taunts. The words that are forming, almost ready to spill out, freeze in place when his mouth comes in direct contact with your slippery cunt. He licks once, twice, through your folds, slightly dipping into your slick entrance, only pulling away to nuzzle your pearl with his misaligned nose.

"Sweet as a peach, jus' like I remember," he purrs, the timbre of his voice buzzing against your puffy lips. "Missed this." A mewl slithers past your grit teeth when he gently sinks one thick finger into you, curling and twisting. Arousal drips onto his knuckle, tracing a hot path down to his wrist. He coos at you when he adds another digit, hissing at the sharp but brief pinprick of the stretch.

"Bloody fuckin' tight." Simon rises off the floor, the quiet sound of his knees popping swallowed up by your harsh pants. "Gotta let me in, love. Relax."

He keeps the thrusts shallow, his fingers dragging deliciously along your nerve endings. The sting soon fades, giving way to a gentle warmth that unfurls inside of you, letting Simon reach deeper until—

Your muscles stiffen, tight like a spring when he brushes over the rough patch of skin that has bursts of light appearing across your eyelids.

"Look at ya. Droolin' like a mutt with my fingers stuffed up your pretty cunt."

There's a pressure in your lower belly that's steadily building with each sloppy thrust of his hand, pulling squelching noises from your sodden pussy. He finally, finally, latches onto your neglected clit, lightly sucking on it in tandem with his fingers.

Your chin drops to your chest as everything nears a breaking point. The pressure inside you has your body wound tight. The fibers of your muscles contract, almost painfully, preparing for the release of what's to come, what can't be ignored.

The swirling of his golden tongue pushes against the boundaries of your endurance, pushes you to the precipice, where you finally hit the point of no return. You can feel something about to give, ecstasy trickling through the cracks in your foundation, uncontrollable, raw. Your fingers thread through Simon's hair, curling tightly, pulling it taut when you feel something about to give—oh fuck—

Snap.

The structure that holds everything in place collapses.

A sudden release of pent-up energy and emotion erupts like a dam bursting, a cleansing flood that washes away the grime of old wounds, of bitterness, leaving the edges softened so they can heal; knit closed and scar over. Closure. It touches every part of you, filling you with a sense of liberation.

Your heart beats freely, it throbs with life as a wave of relief washes over you, soothing, a balm over scraped flesh, a rush of cool air into starved lungs.

A lightness that comes after being weighed down with burdens for so long.

Simon's hands encircle your arms firmly— fingers digging into the meat of your biceps— and effortlessly maneuvers you toward the center of the bed as if your lethargic form were a feather caught in a breeze; weightless, insignificant.

Gentle but unyielding.

There's a ringing in your ears that muffles his voice, blurring the edges of his words, an unintelligible hum, as if you were underwater. The sensation leaves you feeling adrift in a tranquil sea, cradled in its silken embrace. The only anchor you have to the muzzy reality is his warm touch.

"'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't," he apologizes, hooking your right leg over his shoulder. You let out a sibilant hiss as he leans forward, pushing your knee to your chest, the corded muscle of your hamstring pulling to its limit. "Can't wait anymore, 'm sorry."

Simon gives you a sloppy kiss as his heaving length prods at your swollen entrance, the tip breaching your pussy with a warm burn that starts from under your navel and only flares, radiating from your core outward. It's searing, the initial bite of the stretch disrupts the haze in your muddled mind, bringing the world around you into cutting clarity.

A guttural noise claws up his throat as Simon sheathes himself halfway, his growled words not the salve he was hoping for. It only grates at already raw nerves, abrasive.

"Jus' a little more, you can take it." He winds a hand downward to draw messy circles on your slippery clit, to stifle the roaring fire in your stomach, your chest. "You already have."

His jerky touch does its job, transforming the sharp burn of him wrenching your walls apart fiber by fiber into a quiet glow; smoldering heat now simmering. You soften, mellow and pliant, accept him into your body as he sinks to the hilt with a quiet groan.

"There's my girl. Takin' all of it like you were made f'me." Simon's words of praise tangle around your spine, electric, prickling. Your heart gallops like a herd of horses, wild and free. "Liked tha' did you? Jus' about strangled my cock with your tight cunt."

He rolls his hips once, twice, searching for signs of discomfort, but when only warm pleasure laps at your heels, when the barest of moans spill from your open lips, Simon begins to put his weight behind his thrusts.

Through half-lidded eyes, you see a raw, primal hunger reflected in his eyes— his soul, the one he'd claimed to have lost long ago, back with his reason, his sanity.

Yet he looks down at you as if you were his only salvation. A lifeline he grabs onto with an unyielding grip, his only tether to hope, purpose. A lighthouse shining in a raging storm, a beacon calling him home.

Simon presses a large hand onto your lower stomach, his work-worn palm pushing until you wince, brows furrowing at the fleeting whisper of pain.

"Can feel myself right here," he sluggishly mumbles, drunk of the feel of your cunt, the taste of your skin on his tongue— sweet like ripened figs. The sensory overload has him sinking his fingers into your flesh until it dimples.

He murmurs something under his taxed breath, something akin to mine, only mine as his lips leave a slick trail of saliva on the dip of your collarbone, the gentle curve of your shoulder, the thin, soft skin of your bicep up to your inner wrist, where he laps at your pulse.

As if savoring the present. The precious gift he's unwrapped, here and now. The last taste of you, which he hopes with a reverence that borders on prayer, lingers on his tongue long after the fruit— the sweet evidence of this one last intimacy— falls from the bough.

Simon comes with his teeth in the crook of your neck, biting down with a crushing pressure that has an acute pain digging its spurs into your consciousness, cutting the blazing euphoria of your own release short.

His cock is still twitching as he fills you with his spend when he takes his thumb and collects some of your slick to take you over the edge one last time.

"F'me. You can take it, yeah? I'll go slow, I promise."

Simon presses a kiss on your sweaty temple, his large hand cupping your jaw as he lazily watches you succumb to sleep, your breath evening out.

He reaches for your arm again, feeling for the birth control implant you'd had there when the both of you were still together.

Gone.

Sweet girl. You'd let him in without a fight. (He makes a mental note to wash the beer off of his clothes tomorrow.)

He knows your cycle better than the lines that are etched onto his palm. Better than the voice of the captain who rumbles in his earpiece, ordering him to go for the throat.

From the moment you'd stepped into his life with eternity in your eyes and the warmth of the sun on your lips, you were his. And he'll do anything to remain in your orbit.

(left unable to distinguish prison from paradise when each poison-coated kiss softens the world he'll build for you and for what's to come.)

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 3

In which sexy construction worker!Rafe who spends his days lifting heavy stuff and building shit (his words) and driving shy!reader home has tense shoulders and she offers to help and he's very grateful...

cw: construction worker!Rafe in a desperate need of a massage, fluff, some heavy making out, slight dry-humping, suggestive

wc: 1.4k

this is a part three to this meant to write something cutesy but knowing them it turned into something filthy (who's surprised) hope you enjoy xx

part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has had a tedious workday on the construction site. The ardent sun making him melt like ice under the searing yellow rays and the clock ticking as if it was an ancient turtle not helping one bit. Even after he’s washed the sweat and the dirt off and changed into a clean pair of clothes, his shoulders are strained; muscles aching and legs hurting.  

Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch his face scrunches up into a pained expression. It makes her furrow her brows, asking what’s wrong with worry painting over her features. 

”Nothing, just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the soreness that’s tormenting him; disturbing him from the movie they’re trying to watch as they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven.

”Oh, I’m sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” She suggests, wanting to make him feel better. 

”It’s fine, don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the television. 

”No, but Rafe you’re hurting…I wanna help,” there’s a slight pout forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film. 

He turns the sapphires of his eyes to face her. The look she’s giving him tugs at his heartstrings and for a moment he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him. 

”Yeah? Wanna help me?”

She nods.

Then he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa; presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her. 

”Also, I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says as she scoots closer, raising on her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame.

”You give massages to a lot of people?” He asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her.

”No, I just meant when I was little me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns. But now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains. 

”Good,” is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter. 

She then settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t shirt, digging into his skin; feeling the sturdy muscle under her fingertips. 

”You want me to take my shirt off? So it’s easier?” He casually suggests and her cheeks heat up.

”Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl up as he plucks at the collar of his shirt, exposing solid back muscles and soft skin to stare back at her. 

She blinks. 

Hesitantly, she rests her hands on top of his shoulders once again and begins kneading her fingers into his brawny structure. 

A heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, making her swallow at the lewd sound as she continues to press into the parts that feel the most strained. 

”Just tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him beginning to unspool under her ministrations. 

He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone. 

However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a low-pitched noise from the back of his throat, sounding almost obscene to her ears; reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago. 

It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter. 

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts out, closing his eyes in ecstasy. He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow. 

He’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. He feels so relaxed he could almost fall asleep.

She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh for some time until her fingers begin to feel so sore she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop. 

”Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes and he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his grateful countenance. 

”It’s all good, feels so much better now. Thanks, Sweetheart,” he says while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis; no hint of any sort of agony in sight. 

”Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?” 

”You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue is peering down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside. ”That was nothing. I mean, it was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.”

”I’m serious, you just spent almost an hour turning my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs. 

”What— what do you mean?” Her breath hitches. 

”What I’m saying is, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you grinding yourself on top of me, you know?” He says as he lifts his left arm in order to tuck a loose strand of her behind her ear; fingers lingering on her jawline.

She freezes, not sure how to respond as his thumb strokes along her cheekbone and he tips her face up with an index finger tucked under her chin. 

”Was so caught up in it all, forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?”

”You mean…right now?” Her eyes round out, barely managing to shove the words out from the gaps of her teeth. ”Unless, you have somewhere else to be?” The edges of his mouth tilt and when she shakes her head he leans closer, pressing his lips on hers in a tender kiss. 

However, when a faint noise of surprise escapes her, he deepens it; warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open. 

When she eventually does, he slips his tongue in, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing. 

Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as she holds his face in her palms. He paws at her waist, bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap with a steady grip on her hips. 

She’s straddling his thighs as his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth as he continues to swallow her up. 

“There we go, Sweetheart. That’s a lot better, yeah?” He murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.

Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her thighs becoming sticky and mind wandering in a hazy vapor.

“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin. 

The slight pain makes her whine and then he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer, pillowy lips smearing on hers all wet and messy; turning her into a moaning jumble, trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth. 

All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins ringing. It makes her jump in surprise; nearly falling off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright, not missing a beat. 

He lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips and presses a few sweetened pecks on them, reluctantly pulling away. His heavy panting fills her ears for a few seconds as she tries to even out her own rickety respiration. 

Then he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing up on his feet; a disconcerted pout following his movements. 

“Shit, better go check on the food so it doesn’t burn, yeah?” He’s sporting a lazy, taunting smile as he offers his right palm to her; lifting her up on unsteady legs that try their best to follow him like a needy kitten as he disappears into the kitchen that bathes under the burnt orange of the setting sun. 

[akutasoda]

some nights you dance with tears in your eyes

synopsis - they catch you crying after not seeing you all day

includes - albedo, baizhu, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvilette

warnings - gn!reader, angst to confront, breakdowns?, wc - 1.4k

a/n: guys i promise working on requests, this has just been sat in my drafts for way too long-

albedo ★↷

it wasn't entirely uncommon for him to leave for dragonspine and not return for a while, but he always made sure to let you know. albedo would make sure you saw him the morning he left, and he would make sure to not leave without giving you a hug and a kiss goodbye - he may not understand human emotions but he knew it made you happy.

you had come to accept his absences and understood how much his work meant to him. sometimes you'd even accompany him for a short while up there! but no matter what, you always eagerly anticipated his return after whatever amount of time. however, now more than ever, you wished him home even more.

work had been piling and piling, your luck turned sour and everything seemed to be crashing down on you. returning home to an empty house everyday didn't help either. eventually, it became too much for you.

one night you'd reached your breaking point. you tried to push everything to the back of your mind and convince yourself that tomorrow would be better, but you couldn't. as soon as you reached the privacy of your home, you broke down.

unbeknownst to you, albedo had arrived home earlier. he eagerly awaited seeing you again but assumed that you probably would be asleep by the time he got back, so he let himself in. once inside, there was no way he could've missed the heartbreaking noise of sobs.

naturally, he assumed it was you and his chalk heart shattered. albedo called out for you until he found you and he swore he would have cried himself at the sight of you crying. at first he rushed to bring you into his embrace, but he was hesitant, what if you wanted space?

but by the way you brokenly called his name changed his decision. he brought you into his embrace and held you tight as he let you cry your heart out.

baizhu ★↷

it was no surprise that bubu pharmacy could keep him extremely busy. he tried his hardest to try and keep a healthy balance but sometimes he could really be rushed off his feet. especially if he has an early start, like he did today.

a patient required quite the urgent attention early in the morning and so you didn't wake up alongside him like usual. you were tad bit disappointed that you wouldn't see him for awhile but you understood his circumstances. now you just looked forward to seeing him at the end of the day!

however, now you were just excited for this day to end. there was just so many things that either annoyed you or stressed you out to the point that you finished your day early and headed home. admittedly, you were disappointed to not see baizhu anywhere but you understood that he was busy and hoped he'd finish soon.

by the time that baizhu had finally managed to close the pharmacy for the night, it had gotten rather late. he was exhausted and desperately deprived of your presence, all he wanted to do was see you for the first time since this morning.

what he hadn't expected was to find you crying. immediately he could feel his heartstrings being pulled upon and he called out for you gently, seeing your glossy eyes only made him sadder.

he pulled you into his embrace and held you close. maybe tomorrow he could leave the pharmacy to his assistants while he takes you out for the day.

alhaitham ★↷

his days could vary quite wildy, he could be really busy or not very bust at all. either way he still preferred to keep to himself with a few exclusions - you being one of the main ones. so most days, you'd see him during the day.

however, if you were busy, he'd tend to leave you to it and would often encourage you to focus on your things rather then be distracted by him or anyone else. he'd even go as far as to completely avoid you if you had something really important coming up.

and today was just that. you had an extremely important deadline to hit and so alhaitham decided to give you the space to work properly on it. although, now that seems like the worst thing he could've done.

you're stress was high and everything seemed to be working against you, all you needed was a break but you simply could not find the time to indulge in such. you really hoped that alhaitham would come to distract you but you knew that was a long shot.

eventually, you got home. you were absolutely exhausted emotionally and physically and you needed to find your lover and relax for once. it was rather late at night so you found him propped up in bed reading. you didn't care less however and immediately found your way to collapse onto him.

before he could even question your behavior, he could feel your body practically shake as you finally let out all your emotions. he stayed silent as he placed his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

kaveh ★↷

you both knew very well that kaveh could often overwork himself, especially when he got a pretty good commission. he wouldn't so much as even take a break until it was completed and so sometimes it was difficult to see him during the day.

although he would become extra clingy later at night to make up for the time he could've spent with you - that and he was always reluctant to leave you in the morning if he knew. it was rather sweet, but sometimes he wouldn't be there when you needed him.

so while kaveh was busy fussing over new building plans, you were busy stressing over the amount of things you had to do. you were so close to reaching your breaking point but you'd rather not at the akadeymia and so you tried to hold on until you got home.

admittedly, you were disappointed that kaveh had yet to return home when you fid but you guessed you could just have some time to yourself and relax. although you greatly underestimated just how much the day had taken a toll on you, and before you knew it you were crying.

kaveh was absolutely beat by the time he dragged himself back and he couldn't wait to see you for the first time in ages. however his heart shattered when he saw you crying and he immediately made his way to you.

he took your shaky figure in his arms and held you close. he promised you then that whatever you wanted, he'd do it for you. he just couldn't bear to see you cry anymore.

neuvillette ★↷

the ludex of fontaine was always extremely busy. he tried his hardest to spend his time with you but more often than not, the only time's he could where before and after work. he did feel bad for not spending time with you but he held a lot of responsibility.

you knew better than to disturb him during work, and so you grew accustomed to not seeing him all day. if anything, it only made the time you two had together that much more special! you didn't mind exactly and if he did have the time, he'd let you know.

so when your day was turning horrid, you tried to press on and make it through but it was difficult. you wanted to go find your lover and relax but he was busy. as your day progressed it only became more difficult to continue on without breaking down into little pieces.

as soon as you got home, you tried desperately to calm yourself down and actually take a minute but it was proving inefficient. you knew that neuvilette only had one last trial today, so he should be home soon right?

however, by the time neuvilette actually managed to go home to you, he was greeted by your distraught self. oh how it made his heart ache to see you in such a state. he sat beside you and you immediately clung onto him and so he wrapped his arms arms around you, letting you finally cry.

that night, the rain in fontaine could only be described as torrential. a constant downpour that had citizens begging the hydro dragon to cheer up but how could he? only when he knew you were okay.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[changetyre]

I'll never forgive myself II Mafia!Carlos Sainz X Reader

SUMMARY: Carlos's circle was small, extremely small considering his job and the fact he was a single father. You being the nanny to his son was the only person he had a different kind of trust a full, whole, and complete trust.

WARNINGS: Minor injuries, attempted kidnapping, screaming, angst/comfort.

A/N: Short but again please have patience with me cause I am slowly getting out of my block.

"Emanuel be careful!" You yelled to the 6-year-old kid at your care as he excitedly climbed up the stairs to the slide in the park close to home that you visited every day.

"Y/N Look Look!" Manu screamed as he positioned himself atop the slide ready to glide down.

"Wow! You're so-" You were distracted by the aggressive sound of tyre screeching.

You saw a black car stop in front of the park, two men getting out quickly hopping out the car as they rushed towards Emanuel.

"EMANUEL COME HERE!" You were faster than you'd ever done in your life towards him as you pressed the small button on the bracelet Carlos had made for you, a matching one adorning Manu's wrist. A panic button.

"Y/N!" Emanuel yelled your name scared as he sensed the sudden danger.

Emanuel was at the top of the slide and you were just able to reach it just before the men closed in.

"EMANUEL!" In desperation, you yanked him down from the top of the slide injuring him slightly in the process.

You clutched him tightly against your chest as you started running the men close behind you.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" You screamed in deep fear as you could feel the presence of the men right there.

You felt them clutch your hair and in pure instinct, you dropped Emanuel. "MANU RUN!" You yelled hoping to at least deter the men giving Manu a chance to run while Carlos and his men arrived.

You were yanked backward with force but didn't let your mind process the pain as you immediately clutched at both men holding them back from getting to Manu.

"PAPA!" You heard Manu's sobs although felt relief as you heard more tires screeching and soon after the men running away.

You rushed to get up getting to Emanuel.

"Manu, are you okay?" You held his face trying to examine him for injuries, your heart skipping a beat at the small bruise forming on his temple probably from when you yanked him off the slide.

"PAPA!" Manu screamed as he continued sobbing terrified. He got up running away towards his father who had quickly found his way to his son.

"Emanuel estás bien? (are you okay?)" Carlos examined his son as you did noticing the bruise, his eyes darkened in anger.

"Tras ellos! (go after them!)" He yelled at his men as they got in their cars to chase after the men.

"Carlos they came out of nowhere I-" You got up suddenly feeling the piercing pain shooting through your body from the way you were yanked back.

"You should've paid more attention!" Carlos screamed at you angrily as she held Emanuel trying to soothe him.

"Carlos I was-" Your attempts at explaining were futile.

"Why were you even here alone! You're fucking smarter than this! He got hurt and it's all your fault!" Carlos was seething, completely blinded by his anger and his terrified child in his arms.

"I'm sorry I-" This time you were fighting to talk through your own tears both of guilt and pain. Carlos had never raised his voice with you, even less after you started getting closer, crossing the line of boss-employee.

"Get in the fucking car!" He cut you off once more.

The car ride back to the house was silent except for the sniffles of both you and Emanuel.

"Y/n are you okay?" Emanuel asked from the car seat next to you on the back seat.

"I'm fine Manu. I'm sorry I hurt you." you held his small hand.

"It's okay, you were trying to save me." Manu offered you a small smile tugging at your heartstrings. "You're bleeding." He pointed out at your fingers.

You had some blood probably from cluthing at the men trying to stop them from getting to Manu.

"I'm okay." You quickly hid your hands away from him offering him a smile of your own.

You pulled up at the house and once again Carlos didn't say a word although you could tell he had significantly calmed down. He grabbed Emanuel taking him inside.

You watched them go taking a second to yourself as the pain you know felt across your whole body was presenting itself fully. You struggled to undo your belt and get out of the car with ease.

Once you got inside you could hear the shower running and you knew Carlos was getting Manu cleaned up giving you some time to clean yourself up before needing to look after Manu again...if Carlos would even want you to again.

Carlos POV:

"Manu, are you sure you're okay?" Carlos asked his son for the umpteenth time as he brushed his hair.

"Yes, Papa I just got scared but y/n protected me," Manu replied as he played with his figurines.

Carlos's heart ached knowing he was entirely too harsh on you but the terror that invaded his body was unlike anything he'd felt before when he saw you'd activated your panic button, it was something he wished you'd never had to use. As he drove to you and Manu a million terrifying thoughts raced through his head of what could be happening.

Once he turned the corner he saw the way you dropped Manu as the men yanked you back, you fighting to keep them away from his son. He was terrified for Emanuel but equally terrified for you which translated to anger. He was surprised at his own emotions taking over him, evidencing how much he truly cared for you.

"You were mean to her Papa." Carlos was snapped out of his thoughts. He looked at his son through the mirror in front of them, a frown on his son's face.

"I know Manu. I was very mean." Carlos admitted ashamed.

Once he got Manu to bed he knew he had to go see you. He walked to your room, he heard the shower running and he took the liberty to step in.

He saw your clothes, a few rips in them making a mental note to get you knew clothes tomorrow. He stripped before heading into your bathroom.

His heart broke at the sight of you. Watered blood rushed down your shaking body as you cried. Your back was facing the door so you didn't see him come in but the glass walls of the shower permitted him to see the fresh scratches on your back.

Carlos opened the shower door stepping in with you. You jumped when you felt his arm snake around your waist.

"Shh it's me, baby," Carlos whispered.

You continued crying, looking down and avoiding his eyes.

"I'm so sorry for screaming at you." Carlos turned you around gently careful not to hurt you further.

"I tried to protect him. I swear I did everything I could." Your eyes were puffy from all the crying you'd done which only broke Carlos's heart further. He hated himself for being the cause of it.

"I know. I know baby. You did, you protected him. He's safe." Carlos pulled you close kissing your temple and he felt you finally relax on his chest.

"I'm really sorry." You cried in his chest.

"No shhh. I'm sorry, I'll never forgive myself for screaming at you. I'm sorry I was just so scared." Carlos apologized again and again.

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, your crying dying down. You nodded accepting his apology. "My body really hurts."

Carlos leaned down pressing his lips to yours in a reassuring kiss. "I'll take care of you baby. Just let me take care of our family." He kissed you again.

[rikichie]

Just don't ask me how that huge plush was thrown there

Under the cut, things I imagine in YOI pre-canon, with the ways my thoughts tie into canon to explain why I think them. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.

With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.

When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.

When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.

So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.

If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.. The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.

For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.

I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.

He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.

And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.

And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.

About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.

I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.

I still want to write something for that last bit.

[lovingjingyuan]

Hey, it’s me again. I want request Sunday with Foxian reader this time, please.

Sunday met reader when he was still a child, and he promised that when he grow up, he will marry Foxian reader.

Reader being old lady, just chuckle and accept it. Thinking that he’s joking, which he doesn’t.

P/s: Foxian reader is 200 years old when she met child Sunday.

Sunday name is --- cause we don't his name. I'll update it if we find out

I wanna make Masterlist but I'm lazy

Sunday x Foxian Reader

𓆪♡𓆩 - Sunday 𓆪(´◡`)𓆩

After two centuries in life you have secured an office desk position in the Sky-Faring Commission. It was assumed to be an impressive standard as being 200 years old and earning a position in the commission wasn’t exactly easy. By most Xianzhou standards, you were still quite young for a position in a commission such as the Sky-Farring.

Yukong had announced that day that a class of elementary students from Penacony would be visiting the Luofu on a field trip to observe and explore the different types of planetary governments. With the recent surge of traffic and reckless driving, the workload has become too much of a pain, causing you to ditch the responsibility to tour guide these kids around.

“Miss?” a soft voice interrupted your train of thought, followed by a soft gentle touch on your tail. Turning around you spot a kid who's clearly not a Xianzhou local, hugging your soft tail and stroking it as if it were a pet. “I can’t find my sister.”

His eyes reflected with worry while explaining that he was separated from the group when he promised to retrieve his sister’s stuffed bunny. You knelt down to his level and looked at him in the eyes expressing a deep sense of worry.

“They’re with Madam Yukong… Do you know her by any chance?” You carefully brush your tail away from his hands seemingly disappointed as you do so.

“I heard of her only. Miss Foxian can you please help me find her?” The child pleading eyes tugged at your heartstrings. Those wings by his ears fluttered. How adorable! You only heard of Halovians but never in your two centuries of life have you seen one!

“Of course. What’s your name?” You questioned the child with a tenderful smile who could be no older than eight.

His eyes sparkled with the sweetest yet sheepish smile. He was not entirely comfortable around adults. “My name is —-,” he answered, his gaze lingering on top of your head with those soft fox ears and then towards your tail. Sunday could just imagine snuggling his small body against that cozy tail of yours! “Miss Foxian I’ve never seen your kind before if you don’t mind…” his voice trails off, his cheeks flustered, too embarrassed to finish his words.

You understood exactly what he meant! He wanted to pet you. You reassured him, “I’ve never seen a Halovian before. You are truly angelic and adorable!” You pinched his cheeks softly with a gleaming smile. You can if I get to touch those wings.”

His hands immediately lung forward towards your ears. His small soft hand wandered around your head and tail petting you down like a dog. “Foxian are truly gorgeous,” he remarked.

You couldn’t help but heave out a soft chuckle ruffling his head. Slowly, reaching your hands to his wings. You pitched them between your fingers. His gaze remains on you admiring your beauty. He knew right there you were his dream girl. Even if it might be a silly little childish crush you were too kind and gorgeous.

In the end you found out his elementary was on the whole other side of the Luofu. You couldn’t leave your station you had to remain here and work! You attempted to slove this by handing Sunday to the cloudknights so they can bring him back to the group. Yet whenever you bring Sunday towards them his small arms clung around your shoulders refusing to let you hand him over to them.

He would cry on your shoulders when you did. Maybe he was just shy as he claimed but truth to be told Sunday wanted to spend more time with you!

When he had to leave he was sobbing. It broke your warm big heart! His sister held Sunday’s hands trying to comfort him. It was a rare sight to see him cry according to his sister and classmate.

“Miss next time we meet! I promise we’ll get married!” Sunday delacred with a mix of sincerity and childish innocence. He wiped his tears before reluctantly getting escorted away by his teacher.

You chuckled at his pouting and whining being carried away by his teacher.

To you those words were nothing more than a childish promise. A broken promise that you will never remember. Would you even remember him? You know you could not defy the ethics of this universe. Long life species should never love a short life.

Many years later you've looked at your office desk. You managed to climb the rankings just slightly. A letter sitting innocently on your desk waiting to be opened.

An invitation from The Family? Surprised The Family will personally invite you. You thought they would invite someone like Fu Xuan or Jing Yuan but you? Was there a catch?

Nevertheless you gladly accept it because many with spend their savings to visit. You're visiting for free and you get a VIP room. Extra special VIP! And it was personally written by Representative Sunday. The man managing the festival! How nice. Do you even remember him? He felt like a distant memory.

You immediately step foot into Penacony from your private transportation provided from The Family. How generous The Family always treats their guests so well!

“Oh the important guest Mr. Sunday mentioned! It's an honor to meet an important guest of Mr. Sunday,” the receptionist charmed in with a gleeful smile.

You stood there confused. Did the Luofu Sky-Faring Commission have an important affairs you never knew of or an important meeting? You thought to yourself. You've only heard of Sunday and seen him in the news, yet you felt like you knew him before. Even if you did it be when he was a child.

“Someone will escort you right up ahead,” the receptionist spoke to you in such great manner.

Members from the Bloodhound escorted you with great caution. So much it intimidated you slightly. Suddenly they paused in their steps at a door. This was the hotel room? So different from the others.

You stepped inside once they told you to.

“Greetings Miss Foxian it's been a while,” a calm voice came in front of you. A man sitting on a chair leg crossed staring at the many TV screens flashing in front of him and you.

He stood up and turned facing towards you waiting for you to inch closer.

“Mr. Sunday? Is there something important we need to discuss?”

“No happy smile? Oh no this just can't do. You don't remember me don't you?” He stood towering over you. “Don't tell me you erased our special memories together. That promise.”

A frown replaced the calm smile. It was a custom for the Xianzhou to erase painful or parts of their memories to prevent Mara.

“Why those memories?” He whispered in your ears tenderly stroking your fluffy ears on your head. That touch felt familiar. He smiled again. Something about the smile was unsettling. “No worries The Family is experts when it comes to regaining lost memories.”

Memories came flashing in you. This was all confusing yet familiar. Too much you passed out. Sunday swiftly got hold of your body putting you in the dreamscape.

You opened your eyes. Your body felt weird almost like you were in a dream.

“How are you my little Fox?” He kissed your cheeks. He held you on his lap. His lips formed a smirk.

“See I kept my promise til the end,” his hands traced up your thighs keeping a firm grip on your waist.

He lifted you off his lap, setting you to sit on his fancy chair. He got on one knee eyeing you as he presented a ring in a white and golden box with a beautiful shiny diamond ring in the middle! The diamond ring has angel wings on it like his to show ownership towards you.

“Will you marry me my dear Fox?”

It was more of a demand than a question. Sunday wasn't the young boy you knew before. He always kept his words even if they were a childish dream. But he lived in a dream, the dreamscape so anything is possible.

He puts the cold ring on your ring finger, leaned in and kissed you lips. Sweet and short.

[stayinlimbo]

cat walk

pairing: lee minho x reader ft. soondoongdori requested?: yes; 100 followers celebration genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, i am only using my own cat experience, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 935 note: thank you @infinity-tiny for the request. i definitely took some creative liberties with it but i hope you still like it ♡

if anyone had asked minho what he thought he’d arrive home to on a seemingly normal friday evening, he probably would’ve described his typical welcoming committee consisting of you shouting out a “hey min!” from somewhere in the living room or kitchen, and, if he was lucky, his cats poking out from their usual hiding spots to greet him. 

it most certainly wouldn’t have been this, yet here we are. 

minho’s hand hasn’t even released the front door handle before soonie’s pleading eyes bore holes into his soul. the cat’s large body is draped comfortably over your shoulder, but minho can tell that soonie would rather be literally anywhere else than where he currently is.  

the sound of rustling diverts minho’s attention towards the ground next to your feet. doongie’s sprawled out form rubs against a pair of shoes strewn to the side of the entryway as he noisily meows at the sight of his owner’s (father’s) figure barely stepping past the threshold. 

minho flicks his eyes back up as soft clicking noises reverberate around the narrow hallway, watching the final child hesitantly making his way towards your free, outstretched hand holding his favorite treat. 

“what are you doing?”

dori’s cautious steps halt at minho’s voice, making you quietly groan out in frustration.

“hey min, happy to see you, now shhh for a minute please,” you hastily whisper, gaze focused on the brown tabby. the soft clicking resumes and dori finally comes close enough for you to scoop him up in your arms alongside his older brother. 

you whirl around to face your boyfriend, who at long last has properly entered the house and closed the door. a radiant grin illuminates your face at the sight of him. if minho’s being honest, it tugs at his heartstrings a bit. you missed him and you’re so happy to see–

“hold soonie and dori for me, will you? i need to grab this bag real quick,” you rush out, not giving him much of a choice as you’re already transferring the two cats into his arms. 

okay, so maybe not. 

minho watches you jog over to a bag he didn’t see at the end of the hall, laughing at the tiny slip in your footing when you turn around to come back towards him. you plop down next to doongie, giving him a quick pet before fishing in the bag and pulling out a leash and a cat-sized reflective vest.

hold up. 

“you didn’t,” minho blanches, watching you put doongie’s head and paws through the green vest’s openings, hooking the leash to the rings that are now attached to the cat’s back.

“i did. soonie,” you reply, reaching up for your next (unwilling) participant. minho crouches down next to you, reluctantly complying with your demands. 

“you’re going out now?” he questions. poor soonie is not as cooperative as his younger brother, and it takes everything within minho to not save him out of pity for what is to come. 

“yes, they’re more frisky in the evening—dori—so i thought ‘why not?’”

“but it’s dark outside,” minho tries to reason, passing you the final feline. it’s of no use, you are too far gone. 

“that’s what the reflective vests are for. duh,” you counter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you let dori leap out of your hold. “there, don’t they look ready for the outdoors?”

the cats are all sprawled in different positions on the floor. soonie still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doongie is preoccupied with swatting the bag now, and if dori could make himself any smaller, he would turn into a perfectly shaped ball. 

no, ready isn’t the word minho would use. 

you must see the hesitance still lingering behind his eyes because  this time you sift through the bag to retrieve a human-sized reflective vest and pull it over your sweatshirt. 

“if it makes you feel any better, i’ll be wearing this the entire time with them to be extra safe. please, please, please let me try this,” you beg, looking at him with your best imploring eyes. 

minho has to give it to you, you’ve gotten better at this. you must’ve been practicing after the last time he told you “no” to something he can’t even remember at this point. 

he lets out a sigh at your unwavering gaze, finally giving in to your pleas. “...did you at least get me one?”

“of course i did, who do you think i am?” you scoff lightly, digging through the bag and extending your hand towards him with his very own green reflective vest. 

as minho slips on what, in his opinion, is the ugliest vest he’s ever seen in his life, he can’t help the smile blooming on his face growing wider. although this may be one of the weirdest methods (and he means it) you’ve used to get the family all together, he can see the commitment and energy you put into making sure everyone would be safe. 

you don’t need to know right now that he tried this years before he met you and that the cats will give up entirely about ten steps away from the walkway. he’ll let you discover that on your own. 

and as you call “hurry up, let’s go!” to him halfway out the door with soonie and dori in your arms, doongie trailing slowly by your feet trying to bite the loose leash dangling in front of his face, minho knows he wouldn’t trade this for the world. not when he has the ones he loves most all in one place.

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[hyunebunx]

💛 w/ felix please!!

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💛- 'a kiss shared during sunset, often romantic and serene'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! the fluffiest kind

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i loved writing this sm :( it's a little self indulgent but i still hope you'll like it! thank youu for requesting!! <333

Sunsets were your absolute favorite.

It might sound cliché or overrated, but witnessing such mesmerizing beauty whenever you were lucky enough to, genuinely made life worth living to an extent other things didn’t. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder but nobody could deny the one of a kind colors and the bright light that was slowly dimming with every minute that passed weren’t painting one of the most gorgeous pictures of them all. Mother Nature herself was the most talented artist after all, her creations admired all over the world by all sorts of people, even the ones who didn’t have a keen eye for the arts in the first place.

Yet somehow, the sunset was even more dazzling now while you were admiring it with Felix, your one and only who everyone was convinced was related to the sun himself.

Lowering your hands, you let the cheap film camera dangle from your wrist casually, the sand warm under you. “I’ve always loved taking pictures of the sky.”

Felix tears his gaze from the ocean, the warm breeze softly ruffling his long blond hair as he smiles. “I know. You never miss a photo opportunity, wiping out your phone and stopping everything we do to get that perfect shot.”

You return his smile, sheepishly, bumping your shoulder into his. “So, you’ve noticed.”

“Of course I have.” He admits like he couldn’t phantom someone not noticing, leaning closer and staring at you in such a way that had you believing he forgot all about the beautiful view in front for a moment. “Because while you’re busy staring at the sky, my eyes only see you.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your face alarmingly as you finally turn to look at him. Wrong move, because the sight of him takes your breath away, especially since you’re close enough to notice every single detail that made Felix who he was. His freckles were not hiding behind any makeup, spilling all over his cheeks like actual constellations – the ones on his eyelids were always your favorite, having taken too many pictures of them to even count now – plump lips naturally pink and still stretched into a faint smile that only pulled you closer by your heartstrings, tugging at them and never really letting go.

The sun was setting, and there were numerous other couples around enjoying the view and the last days of warmth on the beach, but now you could only see him.

“Now you’re just lying to fluster me.” A giggle escapes you, awkward and shy as the beautiful shades of orange begin caressing his side profile, mesmerizing you.

Felix shakes his head instantly. “Why would I?” His hand finds yours on the sand, intertwining your fingers. “People find beauty in different things. So, while you’re enthralled by the sky and all of its colors, I’m bewitched by you and only you.”

Bewitched, like you were some sort of otherworldly being in his eyes, a piece of art deserved to be hung in a museum in its own separate section, surrounded by security 24/7.

You’ve never doubted Felix’s love for you but at the same time, you had no idea he regarded you so highly, in the same way you did him.

Without a second thought, you lean over and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek, feeling his smile widen before you get the chance to pull away, happiness radiating off of him.

“Sure, the sky is beautiful.” You nod, a little tongue-tied and emotional by his previous statement. “But there’s something I love capturing in pictures even more.”

His brows furrow, turning his whole mind upside down in search of the answer he’s looking for, sure you’ve told him about this before. There was no way he wouldn’t remember.

You reach to smooth out the skin and stop him from stressing. Felix beams in response, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth to kiss one by one.

The waves were crashing against the shore, bringing a rare serenity you and Felix could never get enough of as the sun seemed to pause its descent to also witness your love, giving you a few more moments of light.

“The moon?” He tries, thoughtful while bringing your hand to his chest.

You shake your head and almost close the distance between you to whisper. “You.”

Then, you kiss him, tenderly and softly like you’re afraid once you pull back and open your eyes he will disappear like he was nothing more than a fragment of your own imagination. Or a ray of sunshine personified whose time ran out and he needed to hurry home and be among his people, to allow the moon to take front stage.

Felix holds your hands like he feels the same, not believing someone like you was actually real and bothered to give him the time of day.

There is no rush or desperation, just two people who love each other like it wasn’t the first time, like they somehow met before in a past life and were separated by the cruel passing of time. Like soulmates destined to find each other over and over again, guided by the red string of fate that never tore no matter how far apart your paths were, or what obstacles dared to stand in your way.

When you pull away, he chases after you, pecking your lips repeatedly until he’s satisfied. But he doesn’t seem to get enough, deepening the kiss at the last second while pulling you even closer as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to feel you near.

The sun is almost gone when you come back for air, forehead resting against your lover’s as you both break into the biggest smiles, delighted to be together and make even more memories.

And for once in your life, you don’t mind missing a sunset for you found an even more beautiful view. 

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.2

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Previously: After overhearing Wade and Weasel discuss his unresolved feelings for Vanessa, Y/n panicked and fled the bar. Realizing how much his words had hurt her, Wade chased after her. Tragically, just as he was about to reach her, Y/n was struck by a truck, leaving Wade devastated as he watched her die.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons, characters death

Word count: 4168

Wade's entire world had shattered in an instant. He was kneeling on the cold, unforgiving pavement, cradling Y/n's lifeless body in his arms, as if he could will her back to life with sheer desperation alone.

The chaos of the world around him: the blaring sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the distant murmur of concerned voices- was nothing but a blur. All that mattered was the lifeless weight in his arms, the chill that had already settled into her skin, and the way her once bright eyes were now dull and vacant.

"Please... please, don't do this to me," Wade whispered, his voice breaking as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo, clinging to the last remnants of her presence. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry...".

But his words were met with only silence. Her chest did not rise or fall. There was no reassuring heartbeat, no sign of the warmth that had once filled her eyes with life and laughter. Wade's hands trembled as he smoothed her hair back, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing deep down that this was the last time he would ever see her like this.

The blood that stained the street was still warm, mixed with the tears that dripped from his chin. It clung to his hands, a harsh reminder of his failure. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last as he choked on the guilt that consumed him.

"It's my fault," he whispered to her, his voice trembling with the weight of his own self-hatred. "I should have been honest with you... I could have stopped you... Why couldn't I even open my fucking mouth like I always do?".

But there was no answer, only the cold, indifferent night stretching out before him.

He barely registered the approaching footsteps, the shadowed figures of the paramedics moving closer, their expressions grave as they realized there was nothing they could do. They exchanged worried glances, whispering among themselves as they tried to figure out how to handle the situation.

One of them, a woman with a kind face, knelt down beside Wade, her voice soft, careful. "Sir... I'm so sorry, but we need to—"

"Don't fucking touch her!" Wade's voice was a raw snarl as he recoiled from her, his arms tightening around Y/n as if he could somehow shield her from the reality of what had happened.

He looked up at the paramedic, his eyes wild with a mix of grief and rage, daring her to come closer. "She's not gone. She's not gone!"

The woman hesitated, her hand hovering just above his shoulder, unsure whether to comfort him or back away. She could see the pain engrave into every line of his face, the desperation in his voice that tore at her heartstrings. But she knew that they couldn't leave the scene like this. They needed to take Y/b's body, to give her some semblance of peace, even if Wade was not ready to accept it.

"Wade... Man..." A familiar voice cut through the haze of grief, and Wade turned his head to see Weasel standing a few feet away, his face pale and stricken with horror. He looked like he didn't know what to say, his usual sarcasm and wit buried under the crushing weight of the moment. "You've got to let them... Let them take her. You can't... She's gone, Wade. She's really gone."

Wade shook his head violently, the words not even registering as he tightened his grip on Y/n's body, as if the utter force of his denial could somehow change the reality of the situation. "No, she's not. She's just hurt... She's going to wake up... She has to wake up."

Weasel's heart broke at the sight of his friend, the man who had always seemed invincible, reduced to this: a broken, shattered mess of grief and guilt.

He took a tentative step closer, his voice trembling with emotion as he tried to reach Wade. "Wade... please, man... this isn't your fault. You've got to let go... you've got to let her go."

But Wade was not listening. He could not hear anything over the overwhelming guilt that consumed him like a fire. This was his fault. If he had been there, if he had been faster, if he had just done something differently, she wouldn't be lying here, lifeless in his arms.

He barely noticed when Dopinder arrived, the taxi driver's normally cheerful manner completely shattered by the sight before him. He stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the scene—the blood, the crumpled form of Y/n, and Wade's unhinged state.

"Weasel... I'm done cleaning the toilets-" Dopinder's voice was a broken attempt at normalcy, his mind clearly struggling to process what he was seeing. But as soon as he fully registered the scene before him, his stomach twisted violently, and he turned away, vomiting uncontrollably onto Weasle's Hawaii shirt. The acidic smell of bile mixed with the metallic tang of blood in the air, creating a nauseating cocktail that clung to the back of everyone's throats.

Weasel barely reacted to the vomit now dripping down his shirt, his focus entirely on Wade. "Damn it, Dopinder," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real anger in his voice- just a deep, extremely tired sadness. He shot Dopinder a look that said it all: *Stay back. Let me handle this.*

The paramedics tried to move closer again, but Wade's grip on Y/n only tightened, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold on. "Get away!" he screamed, his voice breaking, raw with the agony that tore through him.

He reached out blindly, grabbing a jagged piece of metal that had broken off from the truck during the accident. He swung it at the paramedics, his eyes wild, daring them to come any closer. "You're not taking her from me! You hear me?! She's not fucking gone!"

Weasel's heart ached as he watched his friend unravel, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to pull Wade out of the mess that was consuming him. But he could not let this continue. He could not let Wade destroy himself any further. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady, even as his own grief threatened to spill over.

"Wade, listen to me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You need to let them help. Y/n... she's not in pain anymore. She's... she's at peace. But you... you've got to let them do their job, man. You've got to let her go."

But Wade was not hearing any of it. He was lost in his own mind, the words barely registering as his vision began to blur, the edges of the world around him starting to go dark. His grip on the metal weakened, his hands shaking uncontrollably as his body finally began to give out under the overwhelming weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry..." Wade's voice was barely more than a whisper as he slumped forward, the piece of metal slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His vision darkened completely, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

Wade woke up gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and his entire body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the curtains, his heart pounding in his chest as the memories of what had happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Y/n. The accident. Her lifeless body in his arms.

The pain hit him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him as he struggled to sit up, only to find himself sinking back into the cushions of the couch. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cocaine clung to the air, and it didn't take him long to realize where he was.

Althea's apartment. Of course. The last refuge of the damned.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to make sense of it all. How had he ended up here? What had happened after he had blacked out?

Before he could piece it all together, Althea emerged from the shadows, a cigarette hanging from her lips, her expression as unreadable as ever. She looked at him with a mixture of pity and despair, as if she had seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times before.

"You're awake," she said, her voice flat, detached, as she took a long drag from her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke in a slow, steady stream, watching him through her sunglasses that seemed to see right through him. "About fucking time."

Wade tried to sit up again, his muscles protesting with every movement, but he forced himself to push through the pain. "What the hell happened?" he croaked, his voice rough and rough from disuse. "How did I... how did I get here?"

Althea sighed, rolling her eyes as she stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray beside her. "You passed out, Wade," she said, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. "Weasel and Dopinder brought you here. They were in a panic, going on about some accident... and, well, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Wade's stomach churned as the memory of the night came rushing back, hitting him like a punch to the gut. Y/n's lifeless body, the blood, the overwhelming sense of helplessness...

He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, his hands balling into fists as he tried to keep himself grounded in the present.

"Where is she?" His voice came out as a strained whisper, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. "Y/n... where did they take her?"

Althea hesitated, her usual stoic behaviour cracking just enough for Wade to see the unease flickering behind her eyes. She looked away, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her jacket as if the act could somehow delay her answer.

"They took her to the morgue, Wade," she finally said, her tone softening, almost as if she was trying to ease him into the truth. "She... she was officially declared dead at the scene."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Wade felt like the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn't breathe, could not think- his mind was a carousel of images, memories of Y/n flashing before his eyes, all of them met with the sickening realization that she was gone. She was really gone.

"No..." Wade whispered, his voice breaking as the reality of it all came crashing down. "No, this can't be happening. This can't be fucking happening."

Althea did not say anything. There was nothing she could say. She knew better than to offer empty lies, to pretend like there was anything that could make this better. Instead, she just watched as Wade's world crumbled around him, the pain radiating off him in waves so intense it was almost touchable.

Wade's breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest tightening as a sense of overwhelming panic began to set in. Memories of Y/n flooded his mind: her laugh, the way she used to look at him with that mixture of love and exasperation, the way she made him feel like he was worth something, like he was more than just the sum of his scars and mistakes.

He felt like he was drowning, the air sucked out of his lungs as the world around him started to spin. His vision blurred, the edges of the room closing in as he clutched at his chest, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

"Wade," Althea said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog of his panic. "Breathe. You need to fucking breathe."

But Wade could not. The memories were too much, the pain too overwhelming. He doubled over, clutching at his head as if he could somehow stop the many images that were tearing him apart from the inside out.

"I can't... I can't do this," Wade gasped, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. "I can't... I can't live without her."

Althea's expression softened, a flicker of something almost resembling compassion crossing her features. She moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady him, but Wade flinched away, his mind too consumed by his own torment to accept any form of comfort.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the ragged rhythm of Wade's breathing as he fought to keep himself from going insane any further. But then, cutting through the stillness like a knife, a sound broke through the chaos- a shrill, insistent ringing that filled the room, that had surrounded them.

Wade's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as he registered the sound. It was a phone, the shrilling ringtone of the Star Wars OST echoing through the small apartment, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts and forcing him back into the present. He fumbled for the device, his hands still shaking as he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

The number was unfamiliar, but there was something about the timing, the wrongness of it all, that made his blood run cold. His instincts were screaming at him, telling him that whatever this call was, it was not going to bring good news.

He hesitated for a split second, his thumb hovering over the answer button, but then he forced himself to press it, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice was strained, barely more than a rasp as he forced the word out.

There was a pause on the other end, a crackling that made his heart pound even harder. And then, a voice- a voice that was clipped, professional, but with an edge of something that Wade could not quite place. "Mr. Wilson? This is Officer McCready from the city morgue."

Wade's blood ran cold, his heart dropping into his stomach as he heard the words. The morgue.

Y/n.

The sickening realization of what this call was about hit him like a freight train, but he forced himself to stay on the line, to hear what the officer had to say.

"There's... been an incident," the officer continued, his tone growing more uncertain as if he was not sure how to proceed. "Y/n... her body... it's missing."

Wade's mind went blank, the words not registering at first, as if they were too surreal, too impossible to comprehend. "What... what the fuck are you talking about?" he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper as the world tilted on its axis.

"We... we don't know how it happened," the officer stammered, clearly just as unsettled by the situation as Wade was. "The security footage... it's missing, and there were no signs of a break-in, but... her body's gone. It's not here. We've searched everywhere, but... it's just gone."

Wade's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the information. Gone? How could she be gone? He had seen her- he had held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. She was dead. He had seen the blood, felt the absence of her heartbeat.

And yet...

A little of hope, irrational and impossible, started to take root in his mind, fighting against the overwhelming grief that had consumed him. What if she wasn't really gone? What if... what if this was all some mistake? What if...?

But the logical part of his brain, the part that had been forged in pain and loss, pushed back against the hope, crushing it before it could take hold. No. This was not a miracle. This was something else, something dark, twisted.

Someone had taken her. Someone had stolen her body, desecrating the last remnant of her existence. The thought made his stomach turn, his hands clenching into fists as a surge of anger and despair crashed over him.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Wade growled into the phone, his voice low and dangerous, barely restrained. "How the hell does a body just go missing? What kind of sick joke is this?"

The officer's voice wavered, clearly unnerved by Wade's barely contained fury. "I-I don't know, Mr. Wilson," he stammered. "We're investigating, but... we thought you should know. We're doing everything we can to find her..."

But Wade was not listening anymore. He dropped the phone, his mind reeling as the officer's words echoed in his head. Gone. Her body was gone.

The room started to spin, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the walls seemed to close in around him. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not again. Not to her. He felt like he was on the edge of some abyss, holding on a branch that could snap any moment.

Althea watched him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were dark with something that looked almost like pity. She had seen this kind of grief before, had witnessed the way it could tear a person apart from the inside out.

"Wade," she said softly, almost cautiously, as if she were approaching a wild animal. "You need to calm down. We'll figure this out. There's got to be an explanation."

But Wade wasn't hearing her. He was already on his feet, his movements uncoordinated as he stumbled toward the door. He had to find her. He had to figure out what the hell was going on. He could not lose her, not like this. Not when he had already failed her once.

"I have to go," Wade muttered, more to himself than to Althea, his voice hollow as he fumbled with the doorknob.

"I have to... I have to find her..."

But as he reached for the door, the weight of everything crashed down on him all at once, and his knees buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the floor, his hands shaking uncontrollably as the panic attack he had been holding in finally overtook him.

Althea was at his side in an instant, her hands hovering uncertainly above him, unsure whether to comfort or restrain. Wade's breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest heaving as the panic attack consumed him, pulling him under like a riptide.

His vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as the room spun around him. He clutched at the floor, his fingers scraping against the worn carpet as if trying to ground himself, but it was no use. The memories, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss, it all crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

"Wade, listen to me," Althea said firmly, her voice cutting through his panic. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, to focus on something other than the whirlwind in his mind. "You need to breathe, okay? In and out, slowly. Come on, you've done this before with gun smoke. You can do it again, just not with that type of smoke- Whatever, you know what I mean."

But Wade was barely hearing her. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control as the reality of what had happened- what was still happening, tore at him from the inside out. Y/n was gone, her body stolen, desecrated, and he had not been able to protect her. He had failed her, just like he had failed everyone he would ever cared about.

Althea shook him, hard, snapping him out of the worst of the spiral. "Wade, snap out of it!" she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. "You're no good to anyone like this. You need to pull yourself together."

Wade's breath hitched, and he forced himself to focus on her voice, clinging to it like a lifeline. He sucked in a ragged breath, then another, trying to steady the wild beating of his heart. The room slowly came back into focus, the edges of his vision clearing as the worst of the panic began to go away.

"That's it," Althea murmured, her tone softening as she saw him begin to calm down. "Just breathe. You're okay. You're going to be okay."

How could he be okay when the person who had meant everything to him was gone? How could he ever be okay again?

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still trembling as he slumped back against the wall, his strength completely drained.

"Why?" Wade's voice was a broken whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He did not know if he was asking her, the universe, or himself. "Why did this happen? Why didn't I say something in the bar?"

Althea did not have an answer. She knew better than to offer false comfort or empty words. Instead, she sat down beside him, her presence a silent reminder that he was not alone, even if it felt like he was.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside, the world continuing on as if nothing had changed, as if Wade's entire world had not just been ripped apart.

Althea nodded, her expression unreadable as she studied him. "I know," she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight of understanding. "But you can't do this alone. You're not in any shape to be running off half-cocked, looking for answers. You need help."

Wade wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that he didn't need anyone, that he could do this on his own. But the truth was, he was barely holding it together. He was a mess, his mind a mixed tangle of grief, guilt, and anger, and he knew that if he tried to do this alone, it would destroy him.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It felt like defeat, like admitting weakness, but he was too exhausted, too broken to care. "I don't even know where to start."

Althea considered him for a moment, then reached for her phone, flipping through her contacts. "We'll figure it out," she said firmly, her tone allowing no argument. "I'll make some calls. We'll get Weasel and Dopinder back here. They'll help. We'll all figure this out together."

Wade closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. It was not much, but it was something, a little of hope, a thread holding him together. He nodded slowly, too tired to protest, too worn down by grief and guilt to argue.

As Althea made her calls, Wade leaned his head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. The pain was still there, a deep, ache in his chest that refused to let go.

He was going to find her. He was going to get her back, no matter what it took. And whoever was responsible for this, whoever had taken her from him- they were going to pay.

Wade did not know how he was going to do it, or what he would find when he did. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The phone in Althea's hand buzzed again, another call coming through, and she glanced at the screen before holding it out to Wade. "It's Weasel," she said, her voice steady. "He's on his way."

Wade took the phone, his grip tightening as he steeled himself for what was to come. "We're going to find her," he said, more to himself than to Althea. "We're going to find her, and we're going to make this right."

Althea did not respond, but the look in her eyes said enough. She believed him, or at least she was willing to help him see this through, no matter how dark the road ahead might be.

As the minutes ticked by, Wade let the resolve settle into his bones, his mind slowly beginning to clear as he prepared himself for what was to come. He did not know where this path would lead, or if he would ever truly find peace. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He was not going to stop until he had answers. Until he had her back.

And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, so be it.

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.

He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.

Not when he doesn’t know.

“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”

Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now. 

You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.

“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.

“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”

“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.

“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”

He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”

“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”

“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.

“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."

“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”

What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring. 

“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.

“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.

“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.

He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”

It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.

“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”

“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”

“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”

“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.

You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.

Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see. 

The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry. 

“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.

Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”

“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”

“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome,  “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”

You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.

“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.

“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”

You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.

You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.

It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”

He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.

“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.

“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.

“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”

“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.

“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”

“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.

“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”

“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.

“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”

“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”

“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”

“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”

“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”

“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.

“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”

“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”

“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.

You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.

He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.

“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”

You’re not fucking this up a third time.

“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.

“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”

“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.

“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”

“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”

“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”

“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”

You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.

“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”

His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”

“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.

I said yes this time.💗

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[allukaed]

𝘽𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙃𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙒𝙄𝙎𝙃 — 𝘼𝙄𝙕𝘼𝙒𝘼 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏𝘼

synopsis - it was his 30th birthday celebration, and you both intended to celebrate it only with you, him, and your precious cat.

cw - fluff, angst, loneliness

a/n - i tried to explore aizawa's character in depth, but i really have this plot in my mind. i couldnt just resist how it played in my head. but im gonna go into detail for the next part. 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

November 8.

You were to celebrate and say I love you.

In the four tight corners. Front of the glass window that reaches the ceiling down to the floor that overlooks the rest of a busy city. Bodies are set on the soft and big bean couch. With a cute black-coated bento cake in your hands, your cat Noir purring in the middle of your crossed legs. Candle lit, and the minimal words of “Hot and Thriving 30” decorated atop the frosting and all.

Gleaming a smile, you sang – a cross between passion and mechanical – a silly rendition of your little happy birthday song towards him. He was smiling warmly, and he never looked happier than in his whole life. Other than the fact that he thinks the message written on the cake is ridiculous he lets it gnaw its way through his smile.

“Sweet,” his endearing nickname always makes your cheeks flushed, “thank you.” He said after your little song.

“Blow a wish.” You airily muttered, cupping the lit candle against the sheer motion of some wind. “It’s your birthday after all.”

He glanced at you for a long time before his velvety voice echoed throughout the room, "Do I need to?" he raked a hand through Noir's fur, "I have everything I could wish for."

You felt your heartstrings tugged, earning a giggle from you. “C’mon, just make a wish!” You urged playfully, affection seeping into your nudge of his knee. “My hands are getting sore holding this cake.”

He smiled small, as he usually does. He never frowned at you, at least during the whole length of your relationship, it was all a blank slate of a face that could lead to a tiny smile or sarcasm, but he never made you feel wrong or sad with his signature grimace that was reserved for his friends or students.

“Alright.” He scoffed like a princess.

“1..2..3,” then he blew his candle.

“What did you wish for?” You probed cheekily, smearing a dark chocolate frosting on his cheek which he groaned for, swatting your hand away in the process. You put down the cake beneath you and started to cut four equal slices as it was just cutely sized. He wiped away the chocolate from his face while watching you do your ceremony.

Before buying the said birthday token, you already kept in mind that he wouldn't like it if you went out of your way to buy him any grandiose gifts, plus only the two of you were celebrating, so you settled for a bento cake instead. Although, he isn’t that much of a fan of sweets than you are.

“Won’t say or it won’t come true.” He grumbled, grabbing Noir who was trudging near the box of cake once it was alerted of the food’s presence, cradling the cat in his arms instead. He lightly tapped the cat’s head, "Bad for you." He told the cat, rubbing the pads of its paws, something the cat finds soothing.

You pouted. “Why? I should be an exception!” You insisted, rolling your eyes defiantly. “C’mooooooon, handsome! Don’t be unfair.” You dragged, bumping your head on his shoulder repeatedly.

His nose crunched, the idea of you pestering him to spill was somehow annoying but still endearing. It was just another trait of you that he has the patience to stand for, but couldn’t for others. If another person did this to him, he might strangle them with his scarf.

Still absentmindedly playing the cat, “Fine, just stop doing that.” He groaned, and your eyes twinkled elated. “Don’t say a word though.”

“Why?” You pondered.

“You find everything funny.” He deadpanned.

You were trying to stop a grin form on your face, and although you wanted to, you pursed your lips instead. “I won’t.” Your curiosity alive was barely able to hold back from your chest. You motioned a cross over your heart to symbolize a silent promise.

He took a brief look at you before he sighed, running his hands through Noir’s black fur, soft paps on its stomach. His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes darted away from you. It wasn’t like he was shy or hesitating, no, but for some reason, he was thoroughly contemplating whether he should say it out loud or rather keep it to himself. Decisiveness wavered him, he thought you deserved to know, and that his fickle musings were out of the ordinary.

His arm reached to you, locking you in a semi-embrace, the feline was surprised by the gesture and it meowed from your sudden weight, subsequently taking its leave from the man’s lap, leaving you two to your own devices.

“My only wish is,” he began, dipping his face into the top of your head and gripping your body closer to his, “for us to stay together.”

Your breath hitched, his musky notes percolating through your senses, and you found yourself dizzy from his words, his smell, his warmth, his embrace, and everything. You buried yourself further in his frame.

“No matter what happens, I will be with you, and you will be with me.” His voice was low and steady, and you hung onto the timbre of it. “I just want to be with you, for as long as possible, and I hope you do too.”

It rained.

Was it an outburst of happy tears, or was it actually drizzling outside your apartment complex? You couldn't care less, because what he was telling you was way way better than any tears of joy or rainfall. He doesn't have the luxury of being an open book, unlike you whose vulnerability always showcases, so hearing those words coming from his mouth was like a messiah preaching to his crestfallen student. It was comforting, exhilarating, a rush — but out of it all, it was love.

Gentle drizzle, like a lover’s kiss, fell upon the parched earth. Four tight corners conformed the two of you fondly. Two bodies coalesced, with you listening to every jump and thump of his heartbeat rhythmically. You clutched onto him firmly, more than ever, as if you don’t want to let go. You love him more than a story could write itself.

“Sweet,” he held your face, tilting you upward, “I’m not a man of a lot of words, but I always love you, even if you don’t hear it often.” He chuckled, emphasizing on the ‘always’. You stared at him with glossy eyes, tears forming on the edge of your lids, and you had no words to say. It was all surprising, yes, you sure were expecting something, but not an overwhelming whirlpool of emotions.

“I…” you mumbled, but your words trailed off. You couldn’t figure out the right words to say. No coherent string of words can muster up the feelings you were processing right now. “I love you too.”

He wiped the forming tears away, “Cat got your tongue?” he teased, a sly smirk tugged his lips.

Noir meowed on the floor.

“No… I..” You blushed, meekly shoving him away from you, avoiding his intense gaze. “I didn’t expect that at all… especially from you.” you protested. If a thousand shades of red were a person, it was you as of the moment.

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow, “You underestimate me, Sweet.” He grabbed your hand and lingered a few light kisses against your knuckles. His stubble unkempt, albeit it adds to his manly charm, was tickling your skin.

Your smile reached your eyes. “Maybe I do,” you giggled, “show me this side of you more often.” Your heart was still racing yet it dwindled every second that passed. With a vacant hand, you gently brushed a few black strands out of his face. He faintly leaned onto the back of your moving hand.

“I’ll try.” He held the hand he was peppering with kisses, intertwining with his. You smiled warmly, and all you could hear was his soft hums and the fireplace crackling. Casting a warm soft glow of his backlight, inviting a cozy sensation to the living room.

“Cake?” You suggested. Seeing how your cat was taking its chances to steal a bite, which you declared inedible to it a lot of times through a series of ‘no-no’ and head shakes.

“I’ll only take a bite of yours, I know that’s all yours to eat.” He shrugged, hinting at your sweet tooth.

“Rude!” You exclaimed while Noir meowed like it agreed with what he joked about. You gasped, glaring at the cat. “No treats for you.”

With a few I love yous exchanged, a lovingly tender interior, and a small tribute of a happy birthday. You celebrated your man’s thirtieth birthday.

November 8.

It was raining.

You were supposed to celebrate and say I love you.

In the wide corners. Grey filled the vast space of the apartment. Darkness enveloped the atmosphere, and you’ve realized that it was no four tight corners. The walls were continuous in many corners you haven’t counted. The whole house was massive, recognizing that it was never actually small in the first place. The duplex was quite big for a single person, and you have never felt lonelier than you ever did before.

A glass window engraved bottom to the ceiling shows that the heavens wept, their tears washing away any plans or events of the people scattered along the city. Were they happy or were they sad because of the rain? Nevertheless, you couldn't say the same sentiment applied to you. Matter of fact, it wasn’t the clouds’ fault but you have been crying along with the skies since then.

Everything felt dull. No rush, no comfort, no exhilaration, and most of all — there was no love to be found. Only you who was sat on a big bean couch that was meant for two people, emptily staring ahead the window, observing the monsoon rain unleashing its despair in the city.

Ever since he left, the welcoming warmth of your — used to be, both of your — house turned to an unbidden coldness. The air was thick and damp, clinging to your skin like a wet blanket. You hugged your knees close to your chest, restraining the shivers escaping you. It was incredibly silent in a way you can hear your staggered lament and muffled chokes, truly an epitome of discomfort. A tremendous display of consequences after all of what happened.

Your cat announced its presence, jumped up to you with its chubby legs, and let out a meow beside you, purring incessantly. You sniffled, hiccups taking turns, not even bothering to look at the feline (which it isn’t amused of, by the way).

“No happy birthdays for now, Noir.”

There was a lighter within your hand and you fiddled with its flame. This was the lighter you used to light a certain man’s birthday cake. How could you forget? There was no way you could ever forget. Your thumb pressed and pulled away from the button over and over, warm hue flickering on and on. On and off and on and off and on and off and on and off. You mindlessly played it.

Until you click on the final pressure against the button.

“Guess it didn’t come true, Shota.”

You blew the flame but you didn’t let go.

[justabrunettewhowrites-stuff]

'Heartstrings and Lightning Strikes'

Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

A/N:Mixed feelings abt this one but rq'd by my sister so I had to do it

Basically you and Luke run into your douchebag of an ex - and Luke ends up saving you when he makes the wrong move.

Under the starlit canopy of Camp Half-Blood, Luke Castellan strolled alongside you, the moon casting shadows on your intertwined fingers.Campfires flickered around the two of you, mirroring the sparks that danced between the young couple.

The air was charged with an odd tension when you stumbled upon an unexpected encounter - your ex,a demigod who once made your days a living hell. His arrogant smirk and condescending gaze betrayed a history of pain and heartache.He grinned as he saw you,turning to you and speaking

"Y/N." he cooed, attempting a charming smile that once fooled mortals and monsters alike. His eyes, however, betrayed a darkness that matched the abyss.

Luke tightened his grip on your hand, a silent vow etched in his gaze as he glared at your ex.The past, it seemed, had a way of resurfacing like monsters from the depths of Tartarus.

Ignoring Luke's glare,your ex dared to reach for your hand, gripping it tightly.You winced.Luke's eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. "You always did like it rough, didn't you?" he sneered.

"Luke," you whispered, shooting him a pleading glance,a flicker of pain crossing your face.

That was Luke's breaking point.

Luke felt a surge of jealousy.The air thickened as his patience wore thin. He shot a warning glare at the intruder. "Back off."

The campfire reflected the flames building within Luke as he stepped forward, a tempest in human form. "Let go of her, now."

Your ex laughed, seemingly unfazed by the impending storm. "What are you going to do about it, Castellan?"

Your ex smirked, thinking it was a bluff. That was until Luke unsheathed his sword, the glint of the deadly metal reflecting in his enraged eyes as he swiftly pressed it right against his throat.The campfire flickered ominously, mirroring the intensity of the moment.

"Nobody hurts her." Luke growled, his voice laced with a newfound power

Your ex, sensing the shift in power, retreated with a smirk. "Fine,Castellan. But remember,some things never change." With a final glance at you, he disappeared into the shadows.

The night air whispered tales of jealousy and possessiveness, but Luke held you close, the heat of his anger slowly dissipating.

With the threat dispelled, Luke turned to you, his expression softening as he cupped your chin and looked down at you, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.You,being touched by Luke's protectiveness,nodded with a grateful smile.

You rested a reassuring hand on Luke's arm, your eyes silently thanking him.

In that moment, amidst the turmoil of emotions,you and Luke found strength in each other,your bond solidified by the challenges you faced together in a world of gods,monsters - and unfathomably obnoxious exes.

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[jarofstyles]

More DAD!Harry pleasssseee like baby boy pouting because he wants to be treated like a big boy and Harry can't help but kiss his chubby cheeks????

PLEASNJENJRF I love dadrry so much

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------

"What is the frown for, peanut?" Harry's voice echoed in the kitchen as he saw his son sitting with his arms crossed in his booster seat. The tv show themed plate and cup set sat in front of him, Y/N having served lunch to them both and excusing herself to grab her own. "Do you not want this?"

It was his favorite. Grilled cheese that Y/N had cut into smaller squares, goldfish crackers, cut up grapes and strawberries neatly arranged on the plate and apple juice in his cup. He couldn't quite see anything wrong with it, but he had been reminded that toddlers changed their minds about their likes all the time.

"It's baby." He whispered, looking at the printed cup. Paw Patrol characters decorated the sides of the sippy cup. "Don't want to be baby. I want to be a big boy." His eyes looked up at Harry's, the color strikingly similar to his own as his brows furrowed.

"What demean, mate?" he looked at the food. "Nothin' too baby about it. Looks like a great meal that mumma made for us. Don't you like Paw Patrol?" the man reached out to brush some of the curls from his son's face, heart clenching a bit. He was the perfect mix of his younger self and his wife. He was growing up much to fast for Harry's liking. It felt like just the other day that he had been in the baby sling while Harry did the dishes, trying to keep him asleep by singing as to not disturb an exhausted Y/N who had just fallen asleep on the couch.

"It's baby." He looked down, kicking his feet. The light up shoes activated as they hit against the side of the table, feeling a little shy with his father's attention. "Want a big cup like you. Please?" His little voice tugged at his heartstrings, the earnest want in his tone making him purse his lips.

"Well... we can, but I have to say, I may steal the cup for myself." He sighed, looking at it in faux longing. "I've always wanted a cup like that. It's too cool for me though. Besides, it makes sure there's no spills. Y'don't want to get all sticky with the juice if it spills over, right?" He rubbed over his little cheek, watching as he visibly worked through what his daddy had said. It was a wonder to observe, seeing someone so new to life have such obvious emotions and though processes on his face.

"You like the cup?" He peeped. "It's cool?" his hands tugged at the bottom of his shirt as he looked at the cup Harry had taken in his hand. Seeing his father show interest meant it must be cool.

"I do. It's the coolest, and besides.. Mumma looked for ages for this cup for you." He smiled. "Why don't you use It for a while and we can get you a big cup in a few weeks, okay? I may steal the cup if you don't want to use it."

"No, Daddy! It's mine!" giggles left his now bright eyes. "You ca borrow it but.. it's cool. You said so. " The chubby hands reached for the cup which the man handed over, feigning hesitation.

"Okay, my lovely. But you better watch your back. I may come and take it."

[entitled-fangirl]

I see how you look at her, William.

Hannibal x wife!reader; Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Summary: Will is introduced to Hannibal's wife. The three seem to hit it off a little too well.

Words: 1,587

Warnings: idk, poligamy? Mutual pining should be its own warning, cause it always pulls at my heartstrings. And typos. Always.

Author's note: I literally pulled his GIF up, giggled, and said "Ehehehehe. He's so silly."

Masterlist

I don't own the rights to these characters!

.............................................................................

She descends down the stairs of the house, rounding the corner to the kitchen. She stands in the doorframe, watching her husband do what he does best- cook. 

He stands at the counter, focused on the cut of meat he had in front of him. She took this moment to admire him. His strong back, his shoulders moving with each movement of the knife, his biceps flexing. Although all traits were hidden from her view by the dress shirt he wore, she could still imagine it just fine. His sleeves pushed up his forearm always seemed to catch her eye, like it did now. Her eyes wander to his greying hair, imagining running her hands though it. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he turned his head just slightly. Not to look at her, but just to see her see him acknowledge her presence. His voice carried through the kitchen, “I don’t need to turn around to know that you look beautiful tonight.”

She let out a soft giggle, pushing herself further into the kitchen. “And why is that?”

He stopped his movements momentarily, his eyes moving up the wall slightly. “Because you’re always beautiful,” he says before going back to his knife and cutting board. 

It had been Hannibal’s idea in the beginning, inviting Will Graham over for dinner. He loved hosting dinners, but having dinner with only one guest was an unusual thing. And he had yet to meet Y/N.

Hannibal had kept Y/N a secret for many years, only revealing her to those attending his dinners. And sometimes, not even then. He knew what he did was dangerous, and he wished to keep her hidden from the public as much as possible. And she never minded, for she often felt anxious at big events and meeting too many new people at once overstimulated her. And above all else, Hannibal didn’t like to share things that were his. Especially things as kind as her, where the world could ruin her in a day. No, she was his, and they were a perfect pair, the two of them, for his arms were her favorite place to be. And his arms were also his favorite place for her to be.

He places the meat into the pan before finally turning around to look at her. He froze, a pleasant smile crossing his face, “Ah, bella. I knew I wouldn’t even have to look.” 

She does a quick spin, letting him see all the aspects of her dress. She grows nervous under his gaze, “is this alright?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, “Darling, it’s perfect.” He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them before leaning down, his arms open on either side of her to avoid touching her dress with dirty hands. She meets him halfway, sharing a soft kiss. 

He smiles, moving back to the food at hand. She takes this as a cue to prepare the dining table.

Before she even finishes, a knock is heard at the door. She quickly walks to it, taking a deep breath before opening it. The sight in front of her is even better than she thought. 

Will Graham stood at the threshold of their house in a dress shirt and sweater vest, his hair gelled to perfection. He held a nervous smile about him. His eyes trail up to hers, and his smile drops. He takes a deep breath of his own, before he places the smile back on. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, reaching a hand out, “I’m Will Graham.” 

God, he was handsome. Hannibal had said he was quite attractive, but this. Attractive was an understatement. Will Graham was beautiful. 

She reaches her hand out to take his, “Y/N… uh… Y/N Lecter.”

She watched as the gears turned in Will’s head, his handshake slowing. “Lecter?”

Hannibal’s body appears behind Y/N, his hands moving up to rest on her hips. “Ah, Will. I see you’ve met my wife. Come in. Please.” He pulls Y/N’s body back slightly to make room for Will to enter. Will does so, letting his eyes wander around the house. 

Y/N feels her husband's grip tightening around her waist. She knows him better than anyone. He’s not jealous, per se. No, this was something else entirely. Was he…. Nervous?

Will stuffs his hands in his pockets, as his gaze returns to the couple. “This house is gorgeous, truly.” He looks to Y/N, assuming she decorated it.

She smiles, pulling herself from Hannibal’s grip, “I didn’t do it, Hannibal did. He has an eye for things. Excellent taste.”

Will smiles back, fighting himself to not look at her for too long, “Yes. It seems he does.”

Hannibal shuts the door before moving towards the dining room. “Please, come sit. I’m almost done,” he says, giving a final glance to his wife before disappearing into the kitchen.

Y/N immediately moves to her usual spot, at the left side of the head chair. She pulls the chair out softly, sitting down in it before her gaze moves back to Will. He follows suit, sitting on the right side, directly across from her.

A silence ensues as both of Hannibal’s favorite anxious people look anywhere but each other. Finally, Will break the tension, “Hannibal never… mentioned you. I, I definitely didn’t know he was married, especially to someone so,” he stops himself.

She smiles, catching his eyes, “someone so… what, Mr. Graham?”

Will looked away again, his breath caught in his throat. He lets out a cough before smiling. “I guess.. I guess I was going to say beautiful.”

She tilts her head at him, “You guess? So, why didn’t you?” She liked watching his squirm. Perhaps she picked that trait up from so many years with Hannibal.

This caught him off guard. She was rather blunt in her thoughts. “I just, I don’t know, assumed it inappropriate to say too much of another man’s wife, is all, Mrs. Lecter,” he says, taking a sip of the water in front of him.

She nods, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Hannibal is aware of what he has. As am I. He taught me to never refuse a compliment.” 

He nods as well, “Then, you look very beautiful, Mrs. Lecter.”

“Y/N,” Hannibal’s voice was heard from the kitchen. He usually didn’t call out like that. He never raised his voice. She stood quickly, moving towards the kitchen.

Hannibal stood in the kitchen, the plates neatly prepared before him. He glances up at her entrance. “Ah. Sorry for the harsh tone. It shouldn’t have come out that way.”

She nods, “you didn’t intend for it to be so.”

He sighs, “Yes. That’s true. I just…. It’s hard to see someone admire what is mine.”

She nods again, “I understand.”

“I wasn’t only talking about him admiring you,” Hannibal stated, “you seemed to like him just the same.”

She scoffs, “As if you don’t like him yourself, Lecter.”

Hannibal’s lips pull into a smile. He was caught. “I suppose you’re right, bella. As always.”

She gives him a knowing look, taking two of the plate carefully, one in each hand, and walks to the dining room. Will still sits at the large table, a nervous look in his eyes.

She sets a plate in front of him carefully, “Don’t ask me what it is, Graham. I’m not the cook.” 

His lips now pull into a smile, as he nods, “I see. Thank you, anyways.”

She sets her plate down in front of her, sitting down gracefully. Hannibal walks in, setting his plate down. He's now in his full suit, his blazer neatly buttoned. “William, I hope this is to your liking.” He sits himself at the head of the table. 

It’s a rather awkward dinner, as they all give each other obvious glances. Everyone at this table adored one another. Will and Y/N were the anxious ones, but as each conversation digressed, Hannibal’s grin only grew. He can read the two of them like an open book, and he was enjoying the book in front of him. 

As they neared the end of their dinner, Y/N happily collected the plates and disappeared into the kitchen. Hannibal took this opportunity to his advantage. He leans towards Will, his voice low, “I see how you look at her, William.” 

Will freezes, staring at the table. “I don’t believe my gaze is that different between her and you.”

Hannibal smirks, tilting his head, “No. I don’t believe it is too different.” 

Y/N enters the room again, her hand gliding across Hannibal’s shoulders as she walks around his chair. She stops behind him, leaning over him to kiss his cheek gently. He smiles at this, reaching his own hand up, and grabbing her jaw quickly before she can move away. He twists his body slightly to kiss her on the lips. She pulls back in shock but doesn’t go far due to the grip on her jaw. He smiles into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of the stare from Will. He lets her go, letting her catch her breath. She moves back to her chair with a soft pink now on her cheeks. 

Will lets out a deep breath, calming himself. Hannibal knows it, and he smiles at his darling wife.

“Should we invite William over again, mia bella?”

Her eyes glance over from her husband to Will, full of mischief.

“I think we should.”

............................................................................

Author's note (part 2): It's so easy to read a piece and critique it, but when it's your own.... golly. How can I go so easy on myself and yet so difficult to please???

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 3/10 | Paige Bueckers]

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Summary: part 3 of the paper rings series! some insight into paige and reader’s friendship before everything happened

A/N: some fluff and fillers before the angst gets real 💔💔

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR AGO

“Is this yours?”

You had been rummaging through Paige’s closet, looking for a clean oversized shirt to wear to sleep. You two often slept over at each other’s place, to the point where your clothes were so mixed up you guys basically shared the same wardrobe. Unfortunately, Paige wasn’t the most organized person, so you were huffing and puffing as you hunted through the piles in the drawers.

The shirt you were holding up had LVN Volleyball Camp splayed across the front, so you knew it definitely wasn’t Paige’s. It was really big though, so you were curious as to whose it was. Just to know if you could wear it or not, you convinced yourself. Not because you were trying to confirm your fears - that this was another girl who Paige had held that wasn’t you.

Paige didn’t look up from her phone when you asked your question, so you crumpled the shirt up into a ball and tossed it at her head. You were no basketball player, but the balled up shirt smacked her on target, right in the face, and you fought back a self satisfied smile.

Paige finally looked up, giving you one of her soft smiles that tugged at your heartstrings. You loved when Paige looked at you like that, all gentle and affectionate, with half of her mouth turned up into a close mouthed grin that you knew so well.

“The shirt,” you gestured at it.

“Oh.” She looked down, unfolding the shirt and studying it before giving out a laugh. “Shit, sorry, that’s Stacy’s. I don’t know how it ended up in my closet. She was just here yesterday.” She folded the shirt into a neat little square and placed it next to her on the bed. “We must’ve been getting a little bit too wild,” she smirked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

Your heart sunk. Yesterday? You mean, you knew Paige talked to a lot of people, but she usually didn’t talk much about it, probably because she knows you get grossed out with too many details. Your chest stinging, you went to sit on the bed next to her. You didn’t wanna find a shirt anymore. All you wanted to do was go to sleep after a long day.

“What’s up? What’s got you being so emo?” Paige got down to lie her head in your lap, looking up at you with her bright blue eyes. Her was nose scrunched slightly, in the way that she does when she’s happy, and she reached up to play with the ends of your hair, twirling the strands between her fingers.

“Nothing. Just tired and moody,” you lied. You drummed your fingers against your thigh.

Paige smirked. “You really need to get laid, Y/N,” she laughed.

You managed to muster out a weak half smile in response to her words, trying to shove down the itchy pain that rose in your heart. “Shut up, Bueckers.”

“Make me.”

You rolled my eyes at her senseless teasing. “You’re such a flirt,” you groaned. Pushing her off your lap, you got up to look for your charger. You could feel Paige’s eyes on you as you moved about her room. Her legs were splayed out, and she was slumped on the bed. You hated when she did that, just looked at you. It felt like she was studying you all bare under a microscope.

The dynamic between the two of you had definitely shifted since last month, ever the drunken incident on the Big East championship night. You had mumbled apologies the morning after, when she had swung by before practice to make sure you were alright. She didn’t really listen to them, shoving you in that good natured way and assuring you that you guys were “chill like that” and that she could never be really mad at you.

But ever since then, there’d been a tension between the two of you. It spiked in moments like this, where she would start shamelessly flirting with you, trying to get a rise out of you. You didn’t mind much, per se, until you really thought about it and realized there was no meaning behind her flirting. But that was a disappointing reality you were trying to ignore.

“Come back to bed,” Paige called out. This time, you couldn’t tell if she’d meant for it to sound so sexual, but you crawled back into the bed where Paige was bundled up under the sheets.

“You look like a kid,” you giggled, “all wrapped up like a burrito.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips. You felt her grab your waist and pull you closer so now you were both under the mountain of blankets and pillows she had formed. “You’re so warm,” she mumbled sleepily, pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

Both of you knew this was not how normal best friends slept together have a sleepover. But neither of you cared. This was where you felt most comfortable in the world, with Paige’s arm slung across your chest and one of her legs intertwined between yours. Her face was buried in your neck now, and her hair tickled your cheeks.

You could get used to this forever, you thought as you went to sleep.

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Your heart thrummed with anticipation. Today was the day UConn would face off against Louisville in the Final Four of March Madness. You missed Paige; the last time you saw her was when you slept over two days ago. Ever since then, she’d be busy, understandably so. Basketball was her life, and she dedicated all of herself to the sport in times of competition like this.

Paige had gotten you a court-side ticket using one of the family spots allotted to her. Only her dad, step-mom, and Drew could make it to the game; her mom’s side of the family were on a vacation in Spain. On one side of you was Drew, who was happily bouncing in his seat, wearing one of his sister’s jerseys that was adorably big for him, and on the other side was Kayla, who’d gotten this game off but still wanted to watch anyways to support the girls.

As you watched the game, you oscillated between moments of pure joy and happiness when Paige sunk one of her 3s, moments of anger when one of the girls got fouled on without getting any calls for it, and moments of uncertainty when Louisville scored another point and the UConn girls tried to fight off their dejection from showing on their faces.

But you started to stay in the realm of uncertainty once Louisville started gaining, leading by 12 at the end of the third quarter.

“Are they gonna lose, Y/N?” Drew turned to you with a hopeful look in his eyes. You swallowed the knot in your throat. Basketball was everything to this team, and they’d worked so hard to get here. They didn’t deserve to lose, not when they were this close to the national championship.

“I hope not, buddy,” you responded quietly, and ruffled his hair. For the last quarter, Drew gripped your hand, swinging his legs anxiously as the game unfolded.

Despite the team’s best efforts, UConn fell to Louisville, 75-66, and the girls walked off the court, pain fresh in their eyes, their necks steeped with sweat and jerseys sticking damp to their chest. They moved tiredly, some of them being collected for brief post-game interviews while all of the others headed back to the locker rooms.

You made eye contact with Paige, and she pursed her lips, shaking her head sadly before slinging a towel around her neck and following the rest of the girls out.

“She looks so sad,” Drew’s voice was quiet next to you. You could tell he was upset too.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you assured him. “You know what? I bet they’re still selling the pretzels outside. Wanna come with me and see if they have any more churro bites?” Drew’s face lit up at that, and he eagerly shot up from his seat and grabbed your hand.

Paige’s dad, Bob, shot you a grateful smile. “We’ll find Paige, talk to her. You guys join us after, alright?”

You nodded, leading Drew out. To your luck, the pretzel stand had one more scoop of churro bites left that the man gave to you for free since they were closing down.

“Good, Drew?” You reached around him and stole one of the churro bites, popping one in your mouth.

“Y/N!” He groaned, sending me a fake glare. “Now you owe me.”

“I brought you all the way over here for pretzels and I owe you?” You gasped in offense, folding your arms and sending him a fake glare back.

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Now you owe me a piggy back ride.”

You laughed. “Okay, hop on,” you agreed, bending down. Drew cheered and jumped on your back, causing you to stumble forward. Both of you giggled as you straightened yourself, and you carried Drew all the way down to the locker rooms.

A security guard stood in the entrance to the hall of the locker rooms, a bored look in his eyes. As you tried to pass, he raised a hand. “Sorry miss,” he stated in a monotonous voice. “Players only.”

“It’s alright, she’s with me,” a voice called out. You looked up to see Paige at the end of the hall, her hair wet and tied up in a loose bun. Even after having just played a tough game, she looked unbelievably gorgeous, her cheeks rosy from the exertment from earlier.

“Paigey!” Drew clambered off my back and barreled into Paige, squeezing his little arms around her waist. Paige, ever the big sister, managed to push aside her feelings from the Final Four loss and look happy for Drew, whom she hadn’t seen in months.

“Hey, bud,” she said quietly, bending down to give him a proper hug. “I missed you.”

They talked in low tones for a moment, Paige smiling fondly at her little brother, before Azzi came along from the locker rooms and stole Drew away to meet the other girls.

Now it was just you and Paige in the hall. She stood up, and you moved to her. Before you knew it, she was in your arms, hugging you so tight you could barely breathe. You wrapped your arms around her, one hand coming up to play with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, an effort to do whatever possible to comfort her.

“Hey,” you turned your head so your mouth was next to her ear. You whispered in her ear gently, “It’s not your fault.”

Paige drew back, her eyes glassy. Breathing shakily, she said, “All those 3s that I missed. Geno was counting on me. He said I had to step up since Azzi was injured, but I didn’t step up. I missed so many.”

I gripped her waist. “Look at me,” I said firmly. When she looked up to made eye contact, I brought my hands up to hold her face so that she couldn’t look away. “What about all the points that you did make? And all the plays you set up for your teammates? I don’t know much basketball, but I watched you out there, and you played with so much fierceness and grit. You played so goddamn good. Don’t be ashamed. At all.”

Paige reluctantly nodded, before pulling me into another hug. We stood there silently, her face buried in my neck and my arms hooked around her waist, until one of the UConn team assistants came bounding the hall.

“Uh,” he scratched his neck nervously as his eyes flitted between the two of us. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for Paige to do press.”

Paige groaned. She stepped back, separating our bodies. “Come over later?” She whispered. “Please?” Her eyes searched mine, all hopeful. She was hurting, and hurting bad.

“Of course, P.” I squeezed her hand before stepping back too, letting the assistant shuffle her away to the press hall.