#'can you tell me more about what caused your panic attack?'

[chilling-seavey]

George Gets Cross (gr63)

The Way It Goes Masterlist

↳ A/N Lovely @lipstickandliveries helped me to come up with this idea as I love to lean into the imperfectness of our seemingly perfect universe we have going here <3

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.4k

↳ Warnings: Minor descriptions of injuries, yelling, scolding a child, parallels to panic attacks, parental guilt, angst.

George finally felt like he could properly breathe for the first time in ages once the taxi pulled through the front gates of your marital home. After one of the worst race weekends he had in a while—finishing outside the points in a car that was basically falling apart beneath him that it was a miracle he finished at all—all he could count on was flying home and forgetting it ever happened. It wasn’t easy, by any means, as his flight was delayed and caused him to have to try and sleep in the airport as he waited for boarding, making the trip home far more irritating than it should have been.

But, no matter, because after such a tumultuous weekend and a lengthy taxi ride from the airport, he was within sights of home. And beneath the early summer sun, his family was waiting for him outside, the kids playing on the spacious lawn and you sitting on the front porch steps. For a moment, it all felt right again. 

You called the kids over to get out of the way of the taxi as it pulled into the dirt driveway and George hurried to pay the driver before climbing out. You were only able to hold them back for so long before they were rushing over to greet him after his five days away, wrapping themselves around him as he took his bag from the trunk of the car. Tired but glad to be home, George tried to keep up with all of their words as they spoke over each other to tell him all about what they did while he was away. 

The taxi departed and George herded the kids towards the front porch, stopping just long enough to scoop up your toddler into his arms so she wouldn’t be stampede by her elder brother and sister. Lawrence and Charlotte flanked him as he walked towards the house, pulling his suitcase behind him, talking his ear off excitedly. He humoured them the best he could despite his exhaustion although silently, he could only pray for some peace and quiet. 

When he reached the porch, you smiled up at him from your spot on the steps and he leaned down to greet you with a soft kiss. 

“Welcome home,” you whispered sweetly. 

“God knows I’m glad to be home,” he replied just as softly, despite the way the older two were still yapping away. 

Lawrence tapped his arm, “Dad, did you hear me?”

Charlotte, from his other side, tugged on his sleeve, “Daddy!?”

“Okay,” you cut in, already knowing just how much George liked calm and silence after landing from a busy weekend, “go play, leave Daddy to catch his breath. You can talk his ear off at dinner, alright?” 

The older two frowned as if about to protest but they didn’t mind returning to their playing and so they left you both alone. With a tired grunt, George sat down on the porch step beside you, placing two-year-old Beatrice on her feet between his legs and she hobbled off to you, instead, as you still held the container of bubbles in your hands. 

Her little hands rested on your knees before reaching one up to you in sweet plea, “Bubba, Mumma.”

“Bubbles?” you smiled at her and unscrewed the cap again to pull out the wand and blow some more bubbles over her head in the summer sunshine. She squealed and hopped around, trying to swat at them. 

George chuckled softly at the cute sight and then let his gaze raise to the older two who had returned to their bikes as they pedaled across the grass of the front lawn. It once bothered him to see the tire tracks ruin his grass but living in the countryside, you would much prefer them to ride on your property than risk the narrow-laned road of rural England. George raised his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched them pedal back and forth across the lawn. 

He called out to them, “No biking near the cars, remember!” 

Back came Lawrence’s easy, “We know!” 

George turned back to you and the youngest and he rested his elbows on the step behind him to relax into the familiarity of home. You spoke together about the weekend and he unloaded his frustrations from the race and the flight, how he barely slept in the uncomfortable airport while waiting for the delayed flight, and he rehashed how he missed his usual evening flights where he would get home once the kids were in bed and he would be able to have a moment of quiet. He loved the children, of course, that was a given, but after a long weekend of work and a day of traveling, the last thing he really wanted to do was entertain them. You held grace for that. 

When he finished ranting about his awful weekend, you set your hand on his thigh, “Did you want to go inside and take a nap before dinner? I can keep the kids out here and busy so it’s quiet.”

He smiled tiredly at you but before he could even open his mouth to reply, there was an unmissable crash from across the lawn, like that of metal on metal, and the two of you looked over towards the sound. Charlotte was sprawled out on the dirt driveway, bike in a heap beneath her, right beside George’s precious vintage Mercedes 280SL that now housed a nasty scratch across its pristine paint job. 

Your heart fell into your gut. Before you could offer any sort of calm to the situation, George was already on his feet and storming across the driveway towards her. You stayed put, letting him handle what he needed to while you kept a watchful eye.

“Charlotte Alison Russell!” he shouted, angrily, voice echoing across the property. 

The nearly-seven-year-old scrambled to her feet, knees and hands muddy and scraped but her eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at the damage done to her father’s car. She looked at him as he approached and right away he was grabbing her wrist and yanking her a step away from the car.

“What did I tell you? Huh?” he spoke down to her firmly, “No bikes near the cars!”

“S-Sorry!” she stumbled out meekly as if she had still yet to properly process what had happened.

“You can’t ever listen to what you’re told, can you?” George scolded.

Charlotte pouted up at him, “It was an accident!”

“No, it wasn’t an accident! You had no reason to be over this side of the driveway. You didn’t listen to me and you just did whatever you want like you always do!” George was holding her little wrist firmly in his hand, not enough to hurt her, but enough to prove a point, to keep her listening to him. With his other hand he pointed to the nasty scratch on the side of the vintage car, “Look what you did.”

Charlotte bowed her head and scrunched her eyes closed.

“Look at it!” George tugged at her wrist to get her to listen to him. 

She forced her eyes open to look at the scratch that blossomed shame in her little heart and a pit in her stomach and she let out a small sob. She had never seen him this angry before, especially towards her, and the intensity of his wrath was overwhelming, fat tears dripping down her cheeks as she stared at the damage done.

“You know how much these cars mean to me and you ignored my rule and went and ruined one. You ruined something that doesn’t belong to you.” George bent down as if to make sure she was hearing every word, “You are a naughty, disobedient, selfish little girl.”

Charlotte sobbed harder, her cries echoing across the property as she was trapped there by the grip of her father’s hand around her wrist, forced to face the damage she caused. She was nearly choking over her tears, struggling to catch her breath with how hard she was crying, her chest heaving with breathlessness and her legs trembling beneath her. 

Across the lawn, Lawrence had discarded his bike onto the grass to join you on the steps, finding comfort in your presence as his normally level-headed father lost his temper. You had Beatrice on your lap and your arm around Lawrence, watching closely in case you needed to intervene. But you knew George wouldn’t do anything drastic despite his anger and so you let him handle the situation as he needed, knowing that appearing as a united front was the best way to tackle such situations. 

Without another word, George bent down to pick up Charlotte’s pink bike by its frame, holding it in one hand and her wrist in the other and he turned them away from the car. She stumbled over her feet a bit with how abruptly he turned and yanked her away and she cried on as she was forced to hurry after him. 

“No more biking, no more playing outside,” George said firmly, setting her consequences into place right away, “until you can learn how to listen to rules.”

“I’m s-sorry!” Charlotte hiccuped through her sobs, “Daddy! I’m sorry!”

But he was long since willing to hear her out, not about to give into her tear-filled puppy eyes again, and he barely even looked at her as he tossed her bike onto the walkway and pulled her up the front steps, right past you, and towards the front door. You set Beatrice onto the step and stood up after them to follow them into the house.

“Shoes off,” George ordered to your eldest daughter sternly. 

“Hey,” you said softly to him, setting a hand on his back as Charlotte struggled to toe off her muddy pink sneakers with her wrist still held by his firm grasp. George looked at you, almost as if you had shaken him from his tunnel vision of anger. You gave him an out with a whisper, “I got her. Go sit down.”

George hesitated for just a moment but as his firmness was faltering under the steadfast presence of your hand and your backup, he finally relented and nodded. He let go of Charlotte's wrist and stepped back outside to leave you to take care of the aftermath. 

You crouched down in front of the little girl to unfasten the velcro on her sneakers so she could slip her socked feet out of them, the house silent except for her sniffles and sobs. For a moment, you just looked at her and the poor, pathetic look at her little face and her hands and knees scuffed up from her crash, legs trembling from adrenaline. With a sigh, you reached up to wipe some tears and dirt from her cheek and she sucked in a jagged breath. 

“Take a slow, deep breath for me, my love,” you spoke gently to her.

Your gentleness in comparison to the anger she had just been on the receiving end of seemed to surprise her and she blinked at you through her tears as if wondering if she was hearing you right. But then she tried to pull in a breath, shallow and raspy, and it came back out with a hiccuping sob. 

“Another,” you gently rested your hand on her chest, “Nice and deep.”

Charlotte tried again and she watched you as you breathed with her, trying to follow your guidance and mirror you. After a few shared breaths, she was able to breathe a bit better, although her tears were still falling and her legs were still shaking. 

“Good,” you rubbed her chest comfortingly and then wiped her cheeks with your thumb again, “Now let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

She nodded and as you stood back up, you ushered her towards the stairs. You followed closely behind as she pulled her quivering legs up the stairs and to the second floor and you led her into your ensuite bathroom where the first aid kit was. Once inside, you helped Charlotte sit up on the counter and she waited patiently as you dampened a washcloth to help to clean her up from the dirt that stained her skin. 

As you took the warm cloth to her knees, she whimpered, the skin torn and bruised and sensitive. You moved gently, dabbing the dirt away tenderly so as to not cause her any more discomfort. 

After a moment, you asked her softly, “Dot, can you tell me why you rode your bike near Daddy’s cars?”

She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand under her runny nose, “I wanted to go fast on the driveway. I didn’t know I’d go that way.”

“Mm, I understand,” you nodded, validating her thoughts and feelings before gently guiding it to a teachable moment, “You weren’t supposed to be on the driveway at all with your bikes, remember?” 

Charlotte sniffled and then meekly nodded. 

You let the moment settle as you rinsed the cloth in warm water again before continuing to clean her up. As you worked on washing the dirt from her other knee away, you continued, “Not only did you hurt Daddy’s car, but you hurt yourself too.”

She nodded. 

“And that’s why we have rules, to try and stop you from getting hurt or hurting things that are important to us. It’s not because we want to make sure you don’t have fun.”

You could tell that she was soaking in your words, understanding them, but as you started to wash off her palms, her big blue eyes filled with tears again. As much as she tried to hold it in, another small sob slipped past her trembling lips.

“I didn’t mean to make Daddy mad,” she whimpered.

“Oh, I know, sweet girl,” you sighed and cupped her face with one of your hands.

“I’m sorry!” she insisted, blinking those sweet eyes up at you.

“I think Daddy’s the one who needs that sorry,” you reminded her.

Charlotte protested with a hiccup, “I said sorry but he didn’t listen.”

“Well, he was angry and sometimes when we’re angry it makes it hard to listen to what other people are saying,” you explained, “When he’s calmed down, you can try again, alright?”

She shook her head as if the concept alone frightened her; the risk of facing his out of character anger again.

You smiled at her softly and poured some antiseptic onto a cotton pad to gently dab at her scraped palms, being careful as she winced at the sting. In a calm voice, you said, “I know it was scary that he raised his voice to you, but I promise, he loves you so much. There’s nothing you could do that would make him love you any less.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Once Charlotte was cleaned up and her knees had a band-aid each, you walked with her back downstairs and out to the front porch. George was still sitting on the front steps with Lawrence and Beatrice, watching as the eldest blew more bubbles for the insatiable youngest, a furrowed expression of melancholy on his face. At the sound of the front door, he looked over his shoulder. 

“There we go, all cleaned up,” you said to break the ice.

George looked up at you and the two of you shared silent glances, his faint, flat smile housing enough thanks that words did not need to be spoken. Then, he turned his attention to your daughter who was magnetized to your side, peering at her father with timid eyes.

“Hey, jellybean,” he said gently, “maybe Mummy can take your brother and sister inside and you and me can have a little chat? What’d you think?”

Charlotte shifted in place and glanced up at you, but with a reassuring nod from you, she relented and stepped away from your side. You left her with a kiss to her head and gave George’s shoulder a squeeze as you ushered your other two children into the house to start to get cleaned up for dinner, lugging George’s suitcase inside with you. 

Now, after the few minutes he had to calm down, George was left alone with his daughter. He turned to lean against the railing post, keeping himself at eye level with her, and he gently coaxed her closer. As she took a timid step towards him, he spoke, “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you, sweetheart. That wasn’t nice.”

Charlotte looked to her feet. 

George rubbed her arm, leaning his head in to try and catch her gaze, “You understand that I was just upset and hurt that my car got scratched, right?”

She nodded. 

“It made me sad because I had told you and your brother to keep away from them and you went near them anyway. Those cars are very special to me and they’re not easy to replace or get fixed up.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Charlotte mumbled pitifully, pleadingly.

“You’ll buy me a new car?” George echoed with a soft laugh, “You’ll be paying it off for the rest of your life, jellybean.”

“I don’t care!” she insisted, finally meeting his gaze, “I’ll get you one!”

“No, you’re not going to get me a new car,” he smiled at her, his heart swelling at her offer, regardless of how ludicrous it sounded. Her youthful innocence was endearing. “There is no need for that. I will find someone to fix the scratch and if it needs a whole new paint job then…”

George sighed, trying to ignore the hints of a headache that started to come on just from the thought of how much work it would be to arrange. But his empathetic little girl didn’t need to know that. 

Instead, he continued, “Then that’s what has to happen.”

Charlotte blinked away another heavy tear that dripped down her flushed cheeks, her sweet voice raspy, “‘M sorry, Daddy.”

George reached a hand up to wipe away her tear with the pad of his thumb, “I know you are, jellybean. Thank you for saying that.”

“I just wanted to go fast.”

Well, who was he to not understand that?

He smiled softly at her, “I know you like going fast, but the driveway is not the place to do it. I like going fast too, but I’m not zooming around the driveway, am I?”

Charlotte’s lip pricked upwards at the corner in a small smile at the visual his words placed in her mind. She shook her head. 

“No,” he agreed, sharing in her smile, “that’s only for the race tracks, right?”

She nodded. 

George wiped her other tear-streak cheek with his thumb, “It’s very grown up of you to come and say sorry, and even though you did, it’s important that you understand that there are consequences to your actions. You didn’t listen to me when I said no riding your bikes by the cars and so there has to be a consequence, right?”

Charlotte nodded.

“So no bikes for two weeks until Mommy and I think you will be a good listener next time. And you won’t get your next weekly allowance and the £5 will go towards fixing the car instead. Does that sound fair?”

She nodded again.

“Good girl,” George then held his arms out, “Hug it out then, you think?”

Charlotte smiled softly and stepped closer so she could wrap her arms around his neck. George pulled her right onto his lap and snuggled her close as if to make sure she could feel the remorse and love in his arms and he sealed it by pressing a kiss to her head. As much as she hated him raising his voice at her, he hated it right back, and the paternal guilt weighed heavy on his heart. But, humans raising humans, there were bound to be more times just like this one. 

With the six-year-old curled up on his lap, George gently pulled her hand out to see her scraped up palm and her bandaged knees. He hummed, “You took quite a tumble, hm?”

“Mhm.”

He gently tapped her band-aid knee with his index finger, “Almost as scratched up as my car, that.” 

Charlotte buried her little bashful giggle into his chest.

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[vhstown]

please stop scrolling and take the time to read this.

i don't think people understand the extent of the horror happening in palestine right now. "death" means nothing to people because of desensitisation so let me just tell you what white phosphorus is. it's being used in israeli munitions and has been and will continue to be fired across gaza and the palestinian borders.

white phosphorus burns when it comes into contact with oxygen (at nearly 800°C or 1500°F. the human body can withstand ~50°C for reference.) the air you breathe in ignites and it is near impossible extinguish. it sticks to clothing and skin and is very difficult to remove because it will continue to ignite in air. it burns flesh up to the bone and even past the bone because it penetrates tissue and is absorbed VERY easily. if you inhale it it'll destroy your respiratory tract and lungs. it can cause failure in multiple organs including the liver, kidneys and heart. it is being released in one of the most densely populated places on earth.

the only way to treat someone exposed to white phosphorus is to submerge them in saline or water and to pick out the substance with forceps, and when you undress a wound the substance can re-ignite. this is just ONE weapon that is being used to kill palestinian people right now. palestine does not have access to medical care, humanitarian aid, power, or internet. their hospitals are being bombed. gaza is one of the most densely populated places in the world with over 50% of the population being children. many children are the sole survivors of their families. there are videos of children experiencing panic attacks and symptoms of ptsd. the fact that israel has committed war crimes in plain sight means that we can only imagine what will happen to the palestinians in complete darkness.

israel has and will continue to deny this. your interests and fandom will still be here, you will wake up tomorrow morning and see your friends and family, but an entire nation of people are being wiped off the map. being silent is being complacent. reblog, spread information, tell people in real life, attend protests, sign petitions, call your government offices, at the very least be angry and upset and horrified because once you become numb and indifferent and hopeless the oppressors will have already won.

what's happening right now is more than a genocide and once it becomes a part of history we'll wonder how the world let this happen. genocides have been part of all nations. just because it is far away does not mean you don't have to be concerned. the fact that YOUR governments and YOUR idols and the people around YOU are supporting the mass eradication of an entire group of people should scare you. it shouldn't make you feel anything less than sick and angry and disgusted. DO something about it, no matter how small you feel your voice is, because palestinians no longer have one.

[edit] links to some helpful reblogs: one & two

post on how you can help palestine

learn about palestine with this masterlist of info

+ a further reblog of mine

[edit 2] about palestinians "not having a voice" at the time i wrote this post internet connection was cut off entirely and even journalists weren't able to report for a period of time — that is all i meant by that. they of course have a voice and i never meant to undermine how people are risking their lives in gaza to get information out there and i apologise if thats what people took from it, it was not my intention but it is entirely my bad. please continue to spread information and updates from gaza as they come.

[brucedefender4eva]

<Kinda continuation of: prev>

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[canyonmooncreations]

bratty princess x bodyguards 141

part 1 background masterlist

There was another stupid party that you had to attend. Your father demanded you go to show the royal presence even after you begged him not to make you go. It was an event that you had to stand the whole time at, shake hands with everyone, and make pointless small talk. This event only required a team of three and Simon had some paperwork to finish up. He stayed back and let the others go. He had a feeling this would be a tough adventure for you, but let the other three go nonetheless. 

According to Kyle and Johnny, you were an absolute menace the whole time. You refused to sit in the back with Johnny and only agreed to sit with Kyle. You snuck away from them at the event causing a huge panic. You took your shoes off and refused to put them back on which only made John have to carry you to the car (not that he minded). You were just miserable. You hated going to these pointless events your father required you to go to. What was the point? You also hated that you had to have bodyguards! It is not like someone was really going to attack the princess. 

The ride back to the palace after the event was silent besides your huffs and puffs. You could see the frustration rolling off of Johnny. Kyle was too busy on his phone to be bothered by your attitude. 

“Take me for ice cream or I am getting out and walking home.” 

John gave you a look through the rear view mirror that suggested you let it go and Kyle sighed. 

“Not this again. We aren’t stopping, it is not on the trip plan.” Johnny explained in an almost unnervingly calm tone. 

“Stop the car.” You just wanted some stupid ice cream, what was so criminal about that?

John did not stop the car and you could have swore you heard a chuckle as Kyle showed John something on his phone. 

“Why don’t we get some ice cream at home?” Kyle offers a simple solution. “Or once we get back, I can go back out and get you some?” 

They feel like they are walking on eggshells with you. Before you could get out a sassy, mean remark they are pulling into the royal driveway. The palace sits further back for privacy reasons. As soon as you reach the nearly mile long driveway, you get out of the car still barefoot and start to run up the driveway. One more minute in that suffocating SUV would be too long. Why are they always telling you what to do? Controlling your life? 

 It does not take long before Johnny catches up to you. He quickly grabs you and throws you over his shoulder to stop you from hurting yourself on the gravel driveway. Instead of trying to manhandle you back into the car, he just continues to walk up the driveway with you over his shoulder hoping the fresh air would calm you down. He ignores the way you kick and slap at him. John and Kyle follow you slowly in the SUV. Kyle snaps a picture of the scene and John smiles at the event ahead.  “Should get hazard pay for this one.” he grumbles. 

When you finally calm down and stop fighting him, Johnny asks “Are you ready to get back in the car?” 

You nod and he sets you down. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you try to take off running only to feel yourself being lifted off the ground and back over his shoulder. You and Johnny walk like this the whole way up the driveway. 

Simon finished up early and decided he would take the next shift and let the others rest after the event. He texted the others earlier to let them know he would be there when they got back. Only if you knew this is what Kyle and John were huffing about. They were hoping Simon could help get this attitude under control. 

Simon walks past the front window and stops dead in his tracks as he sees the scene unfold ahead of him. At the same time, a chime from his phone shows a picture from Kyle and he doesn’t hesitate to save it to his camera roll. 

He can’t help but chuckle as he sees you, his bratty princess, thrown over Johnny’s shoulder kicking and squirming in your beautiful dress barefoot. John and Kyle are still inching behind you in the SUV. 

He can tell that Johnny is nearing his wits end with you. Simon starts down the driveway unbeknownst to you as you still kick and squirm. It isn’t until Simon grabs you from Johnny’s shoulder and carries you bridal style that you even know he is there. In a quick exchange, you are in Simon’s arms and Johnny is climbing back into the SUV. The three turn around and make their way back to the main road. Simon doesn’t need their help.

“‘s wrong luv?” He asks in a soft tone as his eyes meet yours. 

“Just upset.” Before you know it, you feel a tear fall down your cheek. It just all hits you at once and your head falls against his chest as he continues to carry you down the driveway.

“Let it out, princess. I got you.”

Simon sits down with you still sniffling in his arms. He softly wipes your hair out of your face and wipes away some of your smeared makeup. 

“What happened?” Simon already knows what all happened from Kyle’s updates, but he also knows there are two sides to every story. 

“I-, it’s just stupid! I didn’t even want to go, but no one cares what I want! Johnny makes me so upset and I didn’t want to sit with him.” You sniffle and Simon just nods. “I didn’t sneak away from them! I just stepped away to look at the flowers.” He nods again. “My shoes hurt so bad and they gave me blisters.” You motion down to your feet and show him the marks on the back of your ankles. “I know they told you I am so awful, but no one thinks about how the princess feels.” 

“I do. I know ‘s frustrating.” You wait for a lecture, but that is all he says. 

You relax further into him and enjoy the way his warmth makes you feel. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

You get ready to stand, but are lifted into the air as he stands with you. You can’t help to think about all the other ways he could lift and move you… 

Simon carries you to the bathroom and helps you wipe away all your makeup. He lifts one leg at a time to clean your blister and put some bandages on them. Your cheeks heat at the way his hands feel on your body and the way his eyes stay soft for you. 

Once he has you all cleaned up, he tells you to stay put. He says it in the authoritative tone that leaves no room for your protest. He returns with a change of clothes and leaves you alone once again to change. 

After changing, you meet him in the hallway. A hand finds its way to your back and he guides you to bed. He gets you all tucked in and settled in bed.

“‘S been a long day, talk tomorrow?” Simon’s eyes meet yours. 

“Do we have to talk?” You give him your best princess eyes hoping to avoid the impending lecture on your attitude. 

“Mmmhmm. Can’t have my princess acting that way, can we?”

As those words register in your brain, something deep within you flutters at the thought of being “his princess”. 

The worms are gnawing at my brain with this one. SEND ME ASKS AND IDEAS PLEASEEEEEEEEE

[mmaybanks]

mini skirts and mini heart attacks

masterlist

PAIRING — bsf!jj x bsf!reader

WARNING(S) — kissing, suggestive-ish language, & mentions of anxiety

CONTENT — reader is nervous about her outfit and jj’s recklessness pushes him to actually do something about her complaints.

WORD COUNT — 1.2k

“i’m not ready, i look silly.” you pouted to jj, who was watching you spin around in the mirror, overanalyzing every detail that he thought was completely perfect. “you look amazing, i promise. everyone there is gonna have their jaws on the floor the second you walk in.”

“you don’t think the skirt is too short?” he gave you a pointed look, but acted as if he was checking the skirt length. “y/n. you look perfect, and if anyone does have a problem with it, they can suck it.” he watched as you nibbled on your bottom lip, tearing the skin away into almost bleeding territory.

“stop that, you’re fine. and we don’t have to go, i’m sure sarah will understand you don’t feel like havin’ a panic attack right in front of the entire figure 8.” he noticed your eyes widen slightly at that, panic coming to him now. “no, y/n. the kooks won’t even pay us much mind, and if anything, no attention will be on ya, ’cause it’s all on me.”

you let out a small, breathy laugh, even a toothy smile, which made jj feel a bit less worried about you.

“y’know they’ll all be lookin’ at us both. oh my, what is that girl doing next to that pogue?! oh, her poor parents. i couldn’t imagine my kid ever—” you mocked the uptightness of the judgy kooks, ones you’ve probably met on multiple occasions and heard their conversations first-hand.

“y/n.” jj cut you off, trying to stop before you spiraled deeper into your worries. however, you were fully invested in this bit you created, not even remembering the reality of it.

“tarnishing the family name like that. i wouldn’t allow—”

you continued ranting, acutely aware of his attempts at getting your attention, even less aware of how his eyes drifted down to stare at your constantly moving lips. “n/n.” his attempt was futile, and he wasn’t sure he was trying hard enough anyway, his focus too far gone.

he stood from your bed, closing the distance between you. “it, i would have her sent off to rethink her choice in frien—”

then you stopped. not because he called your name, not because your mind went blank—though it did the moment after—but because jj’s lips were on yours, with a gentle grip on your wrist. his lips moved surprisingly gently, opposed to how the kiss began, with a bit of extra force to cut you off.

your breath hitched, all movements pausing by the unexpectedness of the situation. you think you kissed him back, but you couldn’t be sure, your brain hazy with shock.

your best friend, the guy you’ve had an unadmitted crush on for the last decade, just kissed you, and you aren’t even sure why he did, it wasn’t a tension-built moment, you were completely caught off guard.

you noticed he was starting to pull away, suddenly aware of what he did, but you were scared he regretted it rather than was worried for you. maybe your breath stank, maybe he was kissing you for some other reason you couldn’t think of, not just because he wanted to. before your anxiety-clouded mind could come up with a solution, he was gone.

you subconsciously licked your lips, missing the newfound taste of jj on them and the warmth that lingered just enough to make you want more.

when you focused back on jj’s face you couldn’t tell what he was feeling. his eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were soft, almost teary. was he about to cry? his whole body seemed to be jittery, his leg was bouncing on the ground.

“sorry.” you squeaked out, and jj’s expression quickly changed to one you could recognize. shock, and maybe a hint of anger. there was an awkwardly long pause before he actually replied. “i just kissed you, and you’re the one apologizing?” you nod your head the slightest bit, thinking it over. obviously you were thinking it should just happen again, and neither of you apologize, but if an apology was needed, it wouldn’t be from you. “no?”

jj let out a defeated chuckle, taking a subtle step back. was he going to say something?

“you almost ready to go?” he was avoiding looking at you, that much you could tell, even if you hadn’t known him inside and out. “you not gonna say anything?”

he let out a deep sigh, dragging a hand down his face. he shook his head a little, as if he could shake off his nerves. “nah, i was jus’ shutting you up.” maybe if he looked at you he could’ve seen the way your heart dropped in your chest, but you weren’t even sure you fully believed him.

“mhm,” you hummed, stepping closer to him, the gap closing again. “and if i wanted you to shut me up again?”

his head shot up, wide eyes finding yours. “where’s this sudden confidence coming from?” you smiled as he pulled you by your waist to stand between his widely spaced legs, faces now inches apart. this is how you imagined you would kiss him, not a surprise attack.

“oh i dunno, just, some guy was just telling me how perfect and amazing i look.” jj cocked his jaw, a playful smirk rising his lips. “and he used the word amazing? what a nerd. a real man would call you beautiful.”

“shut up.” you giggled, anticipation for the kiss making a cold shiver run down your spine. “make me.”

“ew, you’re so corny.” you shook your head, but leaned back into him anyway.

the feeling of his lips on yours, being able to feel all of the soft, semi-chapped, warm skin on yours. he let out a content hum in the kiss, his tongue poking against your lips; prompting them open for him.

his tongue explored every corner of your mouth, it was a gentle clash of teeth and tongue, lips locked. he pulled a whine out of you that instantly made him want to be able to make you make noises whenever he wanted, an unexpected possessive feeling flowing through him.

your throat was burning from the lack of oxygen, but you didn’t want to stop. you only pulled away when you felt lightheaded, and not from pleasure. his lips chased yours slightly, a mindless leaning into you.

“you ready to go?” you mocked his earlier words, watching as his eyes opened into still semi-closed slits. “shut up.” he smiled against your lips, going in for another peck.

“seriously, are you ready? we kinda lost our extra time, we needed to leave like, 5 minutes ago.” he groaned, but got up from where he ended up sitting on the edge of your bed. “y’feel better about it at least?”

“eh, i know they’ll focus on you more, at least.” he grinned, previous energy coming back tenfold. “nah, those kooks are gonna eat you n’ your little skirt up.”

“think you can go one kook interaction without a fight?” jj laughed in response, grabbing your hand and tugging. “jj i’m serious.” he fake pouted, but reluctantly nodded. “i promise, as long as nobody says anything they shouldn’t, i won’t start a fight. i’ll hold back.”

before you could even get the beginning to your protest out, he continued. “i won’t start an unnecessary fight. if it’s needed, no promises, princess.” you sighed, but couldn’t fight the smile on your face. he was being honest, and his intentions are in the right places, so you couldn’t complain too much. “’kay, lets go.”

[bluebellles]

"i'll sell, I'll sell my whole to you; what's my, what's my price? how about, how about just a part of you?"

a lemurian's bond is a tether, an oath rafayel bears like a blessing. what happens if he betrays it?

pairing: rafayel x reader / rafayel x non!mc reader but also not ... form your own conclusions

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, isekai and transmigration, not exactly fluff but not NOT fluff at the end, sfw

cw: panic attacks, blood, technically self-harm, ambiguous endings, this can be a standalone but belongs to a longer in-progress fic, girl with a lvl -10 charisma stat tries to write a character with a lvl 1000 charisma stat let's all give her some grace, mc's role lacks context but its very complex NO mc bashing here

He couldn’t stop the claws forming as he tore at his chest, trying to get rid of the tightness. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

His lungs felt like lead and his throat burned as though it was filling with salt water. Choked gasps brought more pain than the bloodied marks scraped across his skin. Was this how it felt to drown? Was this his karma?

He couldn’t see past the heavy film that covered his eyes, had no idea they were flashing rapidly between pink and blue. Couldn’t hear past the shrill ringing in his ears. His bond seared in his chest, cold and burning and heavy and hollow. 

He’d never know how he got to your doorstep that night. He was a man possessed. Filthy and shattered and wrong. Didn’t remember slumping against your door with a sickening thud, didn’t come back to coherence until you showed up in front of him with a terrified expression.

Why did you look so scared? Was that his fault? Did he fuck this up too?

He wanted to wipe that horrified look off your face. It didn’t belong there. He reached a shaky hand up to brush against your cheek and watched you crumble further when it came away bloody. 

His unfocused eyes pinpricked as he tracked the marks. Something settled ever so slightly in his chest at the sight. At least it was proof. Proof that he could still touch you. Proof that he was still yours. He wanted to cut himself open further so you could see. You still know, right? 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was shaking uncontrollably, your hands hovering out in front of you like you wanted to touch him but didn’t know if you should. He was yours to touch. Why didn’t you know? “Should I- I mean do you need me to call someone? Should I call her?”

Rafayel cannot stop the honest to god growl that escapes him at your last question, causing you to flinch back as his eyes flash that haunting, otherworldly blue. First he betrayed his bond and then he made his one and only mate, the other half of him, afraid. What a worthy god he had turned out to be. 

Your fear quickly shifts back into panicked concern when his gasped, choking breaths resumed and he began clawing once again at his chest. Whatever calm you had instilled in him shattered as the bond began aching inside of him once again, sharp barbs that clawed into his ribs and pulled.

Resolving yourself, you surged forward and wrapped your hands around his wrists as you tried to stop his self flagellation. 

“How do I help?” You aren’t sure when you started crying.

His gaze tries to meet yours as his vision fades in and out. Your touch is already a cool balm against his stinging hands, a calming reprieve he couldn’t possibly deserve. 

“Tell me what to do,” he begs, hands twisting around to clasp yours. He can’t stop his claws from digging into you. Another sin for him to atone for.

Your brows knit together in confusion. He takes your left hand and drags it to the bloodied mess below his collarbones. Your palm spreads over his bond mark, burning under his rapidly heaving chest. Your breath hitches in your throat.

For the first time, you cannot close your eyes and look away from your role in this world. You still aren’t sure what it means. If you’re some sort of parasite causing this kind of turmoil and agony. At this moment, it doesn’t matter.

“Breathe, Rafayel,” you command.

The effect is instantaneous. All the breath in his lungs rushes out of him in one fell swoop. It takes a few tries before he can intake more, even longer before the trembling of his limbs settles down. 

The Lemurian slumps forward, relief palpable as his face collapses into your neck. His breathing is still ragged and hoarse and his blood drips onto your oversized pajama shirt. Neither of you notice.

“Forgive me,” he mumbles out hoarsely, before fading out of consciousness.

You don’t think he’s referring to the stains on your clothes.

You sit for hours on your front porch, feeling the weight of him press into you like a boulder you had been refusing to shoulder for far too long. The chill of the night air soaks into your bones and you welcome the ache. 

More than ever, you felt the desperate need to run. To escape from this world before the damage you left carved itself far deeper than the wounds marring the chest of the man who slept against you.

What a beautiful man he was. Flawless skin, a perfect nose that sloped down into pouted lips. Impossibly soft hair and sinewy muscle created to mimic the epitome of human desire. Everything about him was otherworldly, meticulously mapped out to create a creature who was made to love and be loved in return.

Absolute perfection, deteriorated into a bloodied mess with sunken eyes and lips tinged blue from lack of oxygen. Panicked and desperate and feral all because of some faulty code.

You would find a way to fix this world even if it meant removing yourself from it. For now, though, you could no longer keep shoving away your responsibilities and hoping someone else will pick up the pieces. As wrong as your presence may be in this universe, it was still your mess to clean up.

For now, though, you just closed your weary eyes and fell asleep next to a fallen god.

When you wake again, everything is soft and warm. Sunlight blinks through your blinds and washes over you. There is a gentle clamoring trickling into your bedroom through the partially cracked door and your body is clad in fuzzy socks you don’t remember putting on the night before.

As a matter of fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all.

You shoot up, suddenly very alert. An appetizing smell wafts into your room from the kitchen as you scan your brain and recall the horrific events from the night before. 

Sliding out of bed, you give yourself a quick once over in the mirror and smooth down the bird’s nest roosting on your head before cautiously poking your head outside.

Sure enough, the man in question was currently making himself at home with your stovetop as he expertly flipped what looked like a perfectly seasoned egg crepe. He looked incredibly refreshed compared to the night before with a billowing, clean shirt tucked into perfectly tailored black pants and no trace of the dark circles that had weighed down his eyes previously.

He looked out of place in the small, cluttered space of your home. Like someone had accidentally dropped a rose into a vase of wildflowers. Despite the contrast, he seemed perfectly at ease as he puttered around your tiny kitchen without a single inclination that he had been attempting to tear his own heart out of his chest just hours ago.

A floorboard creaked beneath your feet and he paused, whipping around to face you faster than you could jump back into the safety of your bedroom. 

You wanted to hide from the intensity in his gaze. Curl up and wilt away from the way he drank you in as if seeing you for the first time.

You wondered if he could tell, because he closed his eyes for a moment too long to be a blink before turning away again and trying to relax the tension in his shoulders.

“Morning sleepyhead,” his voice was deceptively casual, measured and curated to disarm as opposed to his desperate pleas from last night, “Or should I say afternoon? Do all humans sleep as much as you or are you a special breed? I was starting to think you slipped into a coma.”

“You… egg?” Was your very eloquent response.

His shoulders actually did relax at that, carefully plating the egg and scallion crepe before turning around and placing it in front of one of the stools that lined your kitchen island. 

“Me Rafayel,” he pointed to himself with a haughty smirk before beckoning you towards the crepe, “The egg is for you.”

You scowled at this, making no move to sit down. Instead, you glanced down at yourself, realizing for the first time that underneath the oversized hoodie you definitely did not put on yourself you’re still wearing the pajama shirt stained with the fish in question’s blood.

He pouts, as if he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. 

“I didn’t want to take it off while you were… anyways, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” he sniffs as if that was your main concern.

“I got this shirt out of the five dollar bin at the flea market,” you remark dryly, “I’m pretty sure if you take this thing to the dry cleaner’s they’ll pay you to let them throw it away.”

He pauses, assessing you carefully before putting on an air of fake nonchalance.

“Icanjusttakeitthen,” he spills out, the words too rushed to be as casual as he was aiming for.

“What?”

“What?”

“…Why?”

It’s at this point that Rafayel blushes, leaving you to blink in alarmed confusion before eyeing him like he might still be in the middle of his breakdown.

“Your egg is going to get cold,” he changes the subject poorly, “Are you seriously just going to ignore my hospitality?”

You considered letting him know that hospitality is usually for hosts and not their guests (does he even count as a guest if you never invited him inside?) but you were quickly distracted by the sound of your stomach rumbling in protest. 

Instead you shrug and settle down at the island, picking up your fork and taking a curious bite. The flavors are simple but delicious, the richness of the egg melding perfectly with the seasoning he used and chopped scallion that was definitely too fresh to have been rotting in your fridge. He must have picked up groceries when he went to change his clothes. 

Your eyes light up at the taste and you make yourself comfortable before digging in. In your enthusiasm, you don’t notice the satisfied look that shutters across Rafayel’s expression before returning to his normal aloof state.

“Anyways, you must be wondering what I’m doing in your kitchen at,” he glances at your microwave clock, “three p.m. on a Saturday.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. 

“To talk about…,” you hesitated, “…last night?”

“BZZT!” you jump a little at his sudden exclamation, watching him press an imaginary button in front of him, “Wrong! Try again.”

“You’re auditioning to be my private chef?”

“Tempting, but you probably couldn’t afford me.”

“You just like to break into people’s houses for fun?”

“Not usually under such pleasant circumstances.”

You quickly grow tired of guessing, opting instead to shovel more crepe into your mouth. He pouts a little at your lack of participation.

“Some private investigator you are,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t actually really care that much.”

“Trying reverse psychology now, huh?”

“It’s seriously fine if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Fine, fine, you’ve pried it out of me,” he snaps his fingers, “I’m here to hire you for a case.”

This gave you pause. Had you not already been aware of the depth of Rafayel’s character from playing through the game, you may have taken his flippant disregard for the events that occurred the night before at face value. Knowing what you did, however, a few things were very apparent to you.

The first being that although the Lemurian felt emotions very deeply, for him to have displayed that level of vulnerability to what was essentially a complete stranger was incredibly out of character. You knew that despite his propensity for dramatics, Rafayel was more than likely the love interest with the most emotional maturity and control. 

You also knew that it was this emotional intelligence that ensured that the out he was giving in this moment was not for himself. Despite this being only the second time you had met, you were certain he had already dissected your psyche and could read your innermost desires even better than yourself. That was a siren’s greatest asset, after all.

You were a runner. You certainly had questions about what had caused the Lemurian to end up on your doorstep, and you could almost guarantee he had many of his own for you. He could probably tell, however, that direct confrontation would only make you retreat back into your shell faster than he could say “bond”. 

His eyes tracked you with false nonchalance, a predator waiting to see if you would take the bait. Perhaps he was suspicious that you knew more than you were letting on, or maybe he believed you had answers he needed.

Either way, the misdirect to working a case was not only a well-crafted trap for you to sink into but also, possibly unbeknownst to him, a rather generous one. 

After all, just last night you had vowed to start taking ownership of your parasitic presence in this world. Rafayel was supplying you with the perfect opportunity to insert yourself deeper into the narrative without truly getting close to anyone. As long as you could keep that barrier between yourselves, it was essentially the perfect in.

[sunskisser]

No worries if you don’t feel comfortable writing this, but Remus x reader who’s having an anxiety attack? I read the prompt below that made me think of this, and just want something just as sad to match. As much of a fluffy ending as you can pls :(

"Leave me alone!" She screamed, pushing away the only person that seemed to care about her.

thank you for your request, sweetheart!!

breathe | r.l.

tw: anxiety attack

remus lupin x reader

Remus wasn’t expecting to find you in a foetal position on your bedroom floor upon coming in. He had knocked on your front door a couple times, and when you hadn’t opened it, assumed you were using the bathroom and let himself in.

You had your legs folded up to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself like a shield. He immediately knew there was a cause for concern, what with how your loud breaths got shallower as the seconds passed. Shaking like a leaf may have been a cliché phrase; but there was nothing else he could think of to describe you, frail and torn and trembling all over.

In your defence, you had no idea an anxiety attack was coming for you. One second you were doing the laundry, and the next it felt like someone had wrapped their hands around your neck and squeezed.

You had immediately staggered into your bedroom, which was a mistake — the walls of the small room seemed to close in on you, pressing and pushing until they reduced you to the tiny thing laying pathetically on your floor.

The sound of your heartbeat was deafening, all around you like the four walls of a cage. Panic was clogging up your throat, condensing into bile on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t think. There were strategies that you had learnt, ways to calm yourself down. But your mind was shrouded in fear in the form of fog, dread in the shape of darkness. There was no escaping this.

“Hey,” a gentle voice says. An arm wraps around your shoulders, carefully pulling you up into a sitting position. Warm, calloused hands take your own. Remus.

It’s hard to hear him over the noise of your thrumming heartbeat. You lick your lips, over and over again. It doesn’t help; your voice is still stuck at the bottom of your throat. “I — I can’t —“

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he continues to rub the back of your palm, using his other hand to brush off the beads of sweat adorning your forehead. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You tried to locate Remus in the blurry pixels dotting your vision, but the best you could do was his silhouette.

“I can’t — I can’t find you,” you gasp desperately, breaths getting heavier.

“That’s okay, dove. I’ll find you.”

He brings your hand to his chest, splaying out his palm over yours. “We’ve got to slow down your breathing, okay? Can you do this with me?”

You feel his chest expand, before it settles back in its original position. Up, then down again. You don’t think you can do it, but for Remus, you’ll give it a shot.

Up, then down. Your heart squeezes when you try to breathe; like it’s nothing but a sponge. You open your mouth to tell Remus that, but the sponge in your chest makes its way to your throat. All you can do is shake your head pitifully.

Remus gives you a reassuring smile, his kindness endless. “That’s alright, you’re doing really well. Let’s try something easier, yeah? Help me out here. Find something… red, in this room.”

You turn your head, eyes darting around aimlessly. Your gaze locks on a blurry shape in the open dresser, which revealed itself to be a scarf when you squinted. You raise your hand, pointing at it with a trembling finger.

“Good job, dove.” A swift kiss to your forehead. “What about something blue?”

Blue. You swivel your head around. One more time, and you still can’t spot a thing. There’s nothing blue here, and you’re going to panic, and —

Blue. Your favourite colour. You immediately look down, fingers clenching around the crystal blue locket on your neck. The present Remus had given you for your sixteenth birthday.

“This — this locket?” you croak.

“You got it,” he murmurs reassuringly, giving your wrist a squeeze. “Last one, okay? Green.”

It was getting easier. You blink and your head seems a little lighter. “The plants, by the windowsill.”

“Well done, sweetheart.” He gives you a congratulatory peck on the top of your head, fingers sliding down to intertwine with yours. “Feeling better?”

You nod an affirmative, letting out a shaky breath as the tension seeps out. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he smiles softly. “Do you know what triggered it?”

You sigh, leaning back till your head hits the wall. Remus is quick to slot his hand in between, softening the blow as he slowly drops his arm. “I don’t know. I guess it was just the lack of sleep.”

“You need to take better care of yourself, dove. You’ve been overworking,” he sighs, moving his hand to rub circles on your knee.

“I know. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for, lovely girl.” He starts to smile when you clamber forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders in an awkward hug. “Just try to listen to your body more, yeah? And to me, of course.”

“Of course,” you mutter sarcastically, your lips curving upward. He grins, grabbing your hips and tugging until you’re straddling him. “That’s right. Now, how about you go take a warm bath and I’ll order us some pizza?”

“But I need to finish my —“

“Nope. What did I just tell you?”

You sigh loudly. “I gotta listen to you,” you grumble.

“Exactly. That’s my good girl,” Remus grins, fingers slipping under your T-shirt to rub the skin on your hips lovingly.

He helps you up and to the bathroom. He orders pizza, puts on your favourite movie, and smothers you with love. Remus was right; you were going to be okay.

[vampireimiko]

Mark Grayson x Superhero!Reader !!

warnings, none !

note, mark is actually my boyfriend like

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You take your role on the Teen Team, protecting your teammates is your top priority. Whether it’s throwing up a shield at the last second or teleporting someone out of danger, either way, you always have everyone’s backs.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Mark had already known of your powers since you told him about them the first time the two of you met. Just by the description, he was already fascinated. Seeing you in action for the first time was literally MIND BOGGLING for him 😭. The way you could simply grab someone and teleport them to safety or conjure up a shield to save someone in the nick of time. Don’t even get him started on when you’d disappear mid battle and he’d start worrying about what happened to you, but then he remembers you can go invisible!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He loves how in sync the two of you are during battle. Marks lost count of how many times you’ve yanked him out of the way of a punch or blocked an energy blast for him. “You know, one day I won’t need saving,” he jokes. “Mhm. And one day I’ll stop babysitting you. Guess we’ll both have to wait and see.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Mark brags about you constantly. If he’s not talking about how cool your powers are, he’s talking about how much you mean to the team. “They saved my ass, like, five times yesterday,” he tells Eve. “It’s kinda their whole thing.”

He loves when you teleport short distances just to mess with him. Like when he’s looking around for you, only for you to appear right behind him. “Dude, I swear one day you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“That’s the goal,” you reply with a smirk.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You two have the best post-battle banter. He’ll be covered in bruises, you’ll be exhausted from using your powers too much, and yet, you’ll still be teasing each other. “You really need to stop leading with your face,” you say, inspecting his newest black eye. “And you need to stop burning yourself out saving my reckless butt,” he shoots back.

Outside of fighting, you and Mark are practically attached at the hip. He loves that you’re one of the few people who can keep up with him. Getting him to race you different places around the world was always a fun experience. When Mark realized you teleported faster than he could fly he was in awe.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Whenever you’re training and visibly getting tired, Mark is quick to grab you and tell you to stop over exerting yourself. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he says, arms crossed as he gives you that worried look he always does when you push yourself too hard. “Not me, Cecil, or anyone else.” You huff but let him drag you to sit down, secretly appreciating the way he always looks out for you.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° When Mark realizes he likes you, he panics. He starts getting flustered every time you casually touch his arm or teleport too close to him. One day you’re patching up a scrape on his face, and he just stares at you, heart racing. “You okay?” you ask, raising a brow. “Yeah! Yep! Totally fine!” (That man is not fine 😹)

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° His confession is so awkward and rushed. “So, uh, I like you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. And I think you’re really cool, not just ‘cause of your powers, but because you’re you, and I—uh—yeah.” You blink, amused. “You just figured that out?” Mark groans, facepalming. “You knew?” “Mark, I think everyone knew.” You giggled teasingly.

additional note ! it infuriates me that there’s no more invincible thursdays 😿

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[fastandcarlos]

Walking Disaster : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: life with you is never boring, particularly when you can barely stay on your own two feet

As his hands reach out to grab you again, Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as he found his heart race once again. You were unsteady on your feet as you felt some hands grab around your waist, trying to help you find your balance again.  

When your eyes met, you knew exactly what Lando was thinking. It was typical of you to stumble on literally nothing, leaving him terrified as to what would happen once you found your feet again. 

Lando takes a moment to check you over before letting you be, taking back his hold on your hand once more. 

It wasn’t the first time that Lando had to dart to help you that day, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last too. He couldn’t believe sometimes how even the simplest job of walking seemed to leave you battered and bruised and constantly landing on your bottom. 

As much as Lando worried, if he was honest, he secretly loved constantly being able to be your saving grace, feeling pretty smug whenever he stopped you from falling. 

Just a few minutes later was a perfect example of this as you and Lando walked into a shop, working your way around the narrow aisles. 

“O-oh,” you stuttered, beginning to feel yourself wobble, noticing the glass ornaments on the shelfing unit beside you. 

Lando’s eyes darted to you as soon as he heard your voice, reaching out to take a hold of your hand and pull you back into his side before you ended up going too far over. 

“That was a close one,” you breathed as Lando secured his arm around your waist, studying you closely to make sure that you were alright, then checking on the fragile objects too. 

“I swear one day you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Lando jokingly teased, shaking his head across at you. “You’re a walking mess, I’ve never known anyone to have as many near misses in life as you love.” 

You let go of a sigh once you were happy that you had regained your composure. 

“Come on, before you really do some damage,” Lando smiled. 

“Hey, I don’t cause damage,” you tried to protest as he raised a questionable glance back at you. 

“That’s only because I’m here to save you.” 

Lando felt as if it was impossible for you to ever hurt yourself with him by your side, but that only ended up with him jinxing himself one day. You were in the paddock, in your own little world when you didn’t see that the curb had lowered, dropping yourself down and twisting your ankle round onto the wrong side in the process. 

“Ouch!” You yelled, causing several pairs of eyes to turn around and look at you, Lando especially turning around in panic. 

You bit down on your bottom lip as tears threatened to spill, gripping on tightly to Lando as he supported you back to the McLaren garage. You could barely put any weight down on it, limping gingerly with Lando carrying most of your weight, gently easing you down until you were sat down on one of the chairs. 

“Lando,” you whispered as soon as you had your ankle propped up, tilting your head back as your hands ran over your face. “It really hurts.” 

“I know bub, there’s someone on their way to come and take a look at it,” Lando assured you, taking a seat beside you and holding onto your hand. “Just try and forget about the pain for a couple of minutes.” 

“Distract me,” you requested, desperate to think about anything other than the throbbing in your ankle. “I finally admit I’m a walking disaster, just please help me out.” 

“What about if you think of me?” Lando sniggered, earning himself a roll of the eyes. “That’s always something that will make you smile.” 

“You’re supposed to be helping me,” you scolded, shooting him a glare. “Telling me to think of you just annoys me right now...with your two pain free ankles.” 

It doesn’t take long for medical attention to appear, encouraging you to ice your ankle and keep it elevated for as long as you can. You reluctantly nod as you listen, knowing that you were now left unable to go any further into the paddock to support Lando, having to watch it in the background of the hospitality lounge instead. 

“It’s alright, I know you’re still be supporting me,” Lando tried his best to assure you, noting the disappointment on your face as soon as the medic left the two of you. 

“Maybe it’s safer that I stay here anyway with my luck right now,” you responded, trying your best to cheer yourself up too. The corners of Lando’s smile turned up, relieved to see a bit of your humour returning once again. 

“That’s a good idea, otherwise I might end up having to wrap you up in bubble wrap.” 

Lando left it until the very last minute to leave you that afternoon, barely able to take his eyes off of you.  

At the very last moment you called him over and invited him to take a seat beside you again. He was now dressed in his race suit, all ready to go and race, even if he still was full of reluctance to leave you all by yourself. 

“You know, I can survive not falling on my ass for two hours,” you tried your best to insist, “despite how much of a mess I am, I promise you Lan that even I am quite capable of just sitting and not injuring myself.” 

“Sorry,” Lando weakly smiled, knowing that he was getting slightly ahead of himself. He trusted you, of course, but he knew how many times he’d had to rescue you from ending up in hospital, covered in red and purple bruises. “Shall I get someone to keep coming and checking up on you?” 

Your head shook in reply to Lando as he fretted once again, getting ahead of himself and thinking about worst case scenario with you, something that he was always guilty of doing.  

Lando knew what you meant as soon as you sighed, stopping himself and taking a step back once again. 

“I love that you care, but I’m going to be just fine,” you smiled, squeezing onto Lando’s hand that held onto you. 

“Just tell me I’m annoying,” Lando laughed, dreading to think how worrisome he sounded sometimes. “I blame you for this you know, no one else leaves me with my heart in my mouth so often or leaves me terrified that even the smallest of things could end up causing an absolutely huge explosion.  

“You enjoy it secretly,” you smirked, knowing Lando all too well. “What would you do without being my hero all the time? You pretend to worry but I see that look on your face, you love always being there to save the day for me.” 

“I can’t lie, it’s my biggest honour.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[cowboybeepboop]

Wild ride

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5206

Summary: Tyler comforts you through a panic attack after a storm. He then rescues you from your fight with Javi. You take a drive to a hotel and then things get very heated.

a/n: this is entirely a reader insert to the movie bc I thought it would fit so perfectly. Also this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever wrote lmao 😭 Hopefully you enjoy!

When you moved to New York it wasn’t just to get away from the place where your friends all died. It was because you couldn’t live there without feeling guilt about being the reason everyone was out there to begin with. The shame and guilt was burning you, inside and out. All for what? What did it get you? Nothing. If you couldn’t tame a tornado you were going to do everything in your power to help people prepare and get out before it was too late. So when Javi came to you asking for help with storm par, you wanted to tell him no. You wanted to say that there was no way you could ever possibly go back not after what you did.

But when he was explaining how they would be making a perfect 3D scan of the tornado and how it can be used to help save lives, you knew you had to help. He was right. You could get him close enough to the tornado in order to set up the portable units.

As time passes you find yourself more intrigued by the self proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. At the same time though, he’s frustrating. Like all he cares about is chasing the storm and making money instead of realizing how much damage these things cause.

“Javi, we have to help.” You say sternly as he keeps talking about the stupid sensor. “Javi! It’s a small town, they’re going to need all the help they can get, we need to help.” He sighs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll look for it later, okay?” You press a hand to his arm gently. “You made a good call. They really do need our help.” Javi pulls off to the side of the road, taking the keys out. You quickly leave the truck and go off to help.

We worked through the afternoon, finding lost heirlooms, important documents, and small mementos that people had thought were lost forever. Each time, their faces would light up with relief, and I’d feel a small sense of satisfaction, knowing I could make a difference.

The sun had broken through the clouds, casting long shadows over the town. The cleanup was far from over, but the worst was behind us. People were starting to talk again, making plans to rebuild. There was a sense of hope in the air, fragile but growing stronger with each passing minute.

You’re watching Javi and Scott interacting with an old guy and someone who lost their bar. Your eyebrows furrow as they offer him a card. “Didn’t know storm par was in the business of helping people,” you hear the familiar cowboy’s voice ringing through the air.

”Well, from what I see they’re trying to make a difference.” You turn to look at Tyler, wrapping your arms around your upper body.

”That’s one way of putting it,” he narrows his eyes while looking behind you at Javi.

“What?” you clench your jaw.

“Do you even know who you’re chasing for?”, his voice raises slightly. ”How much more do these people got to lose before y’all are done making a difference?” His face tightens as he grinds his teeth slightly.

”Sorry, says the guy setting up shop selling t-shirts and mugs after a storm’s hit.” You turn around before he can answer. Pulling the keys Javi gave you out of your pocket. Right as you’re reaching for the door, Lily yells your name.

”Hey, take some food,” she hands you a brown takeout box and a water bottle.

”Oh, I don’t have any cash on me,” you give a half smile.

”It’s okay, that’s why we're always selling shirts and mugs, so we can help give people food.” You shake your head as your eyes widen slightly.

”Then you should keep it, in case you run out.” She hands you the water bottle.

“At least take the water, stay hydrated.” You nod and tell her to stay safe.

Once you get back to the motel you quickly take a shower. Sitting down on the bed with your laptop you look up “Marshall Riggs” you bite down on your cheek, your eyes closing after you read up on him. Pinching your nose bridge you let out a sigh, closing the device.

There’s a knock at the door, you get up slowly and open it. “Some of Javi’s crew said you were staying down by the rodeo.” You don’t say anything in return so he offers you a small pizza box. “Thought you might be hungry,” you take it and shut the door in his face.

You reopen the door, “Thank you, Tyler.” He smiles sweetly.

“How are you doin’, after all that?” Your head nods softly. “How about I show you something nice, city girl.” He offers you his arm.

”And what’s that?” Stepping out of your room you close and lock the door before taking his arm. He doesn’t reply but instead leads you to the stadium at the rodeo. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the dusty rodeo grounds. The air buzzed with excitement and the scent of grilled food, mingling with the earthy smell of the arena. Families filled the bleachers, kids waving flags and clutching cotton candy, while seasoned rodeo-goers leaned against the rails, hats tipped low, eyes sharp with anticipation.

As the night wore on, the rodeo continued—steer wrestling, bronc riding, and more, each event bringing its own excitement and challenges. The crowd cheered, laughed, and gasped, caught up in the spectacle. In the arena, cowboys were competing in the team roping event. Dust kicked up as the horses thundered forward, riders expertly casting their lassos around the horns of the steers. The crowd roared with approval when a duo managed to secure a flawless catch, the announcer’s voice booming in congratulations.

“So tell me about yourself city girl,” Tyler’s voice is low and gentle.

“You know you keep calling me that,” you turn to him, “ but this isn’t my first rodeo, I grew up here in Oklahoma.” Turning back to the events in front of you.

“Would you look at that, I finally learned something about you.” His lips curve up as he admires your side profile.

Back behind the scenes, in the holding pens, a few of the seasoned ranch hands started to glance nervously at the sky. They could see it now—a line of dark, swirling clouds on the horizon, moving faster than seemed natural. A wind had picked up, too, sharper and colder than it had been just minutes ago. But the rodeo continued, the excitement and noise drowning out any sense of unease.

A leaf falls onto your head, you reach your hand up into the air as you watch the leaves fall around you. “Tyler, the air feels heavy, this isn’t right.”

In the ring, the next event was starting: the barrel racing. A young girl was about to make her run when a sharp crack of thunder boomed overhead, so loud it momentarily drowned out the announcer. The crowd murmured, looking up at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. But as she rounded the first barrel, the wind hit, strong and fierce, whipping dust and debris across the arena. The rain intensified, turning into a heavy downpour that sent people in the stands scrambling for cover. The announcer tried to keep up the energy, but his voice was lost in the wind. In the distance, a low, ominous rumble filled the air—not thunder this time, but something far more menacing.

There's barely time to react before the rodeo’s emergency siren began to wail, a long, shrill warning that sent a chill down everyone’s spine. People were running, some heading for their cars, others diving for the nearest ditch or sturdy structure. The craze of people began pushing and trampling one another, Tyler quickly grabs a woman who fell. He helps her up to her feet and guides you toward the hotel you’re staying at.

“There! Let’s check for a basement,” you nod as you both run inside. There’s a couple arguing with the clerk, you’re checking around for a doorway that might lead to a basement. Tyler tries to ask the man working the front desk but to no avail. “Outside, there’s an empty pool.” You yell to Tyler, “we can try there” he nods and you begin leading the young mother and daughter out the door, Owen’s and the man follow close behind. Once you get the mother and girl down you jump in. Directing them toward the open piping. “Hold on there, cover her head.”

You grasp onto the pipes holding on tight as you feel Tyler’s chest pressing against your back. He keeps his hands tight around the bars, he keeps himself tight against you making sure you don’t move.

“You’re gonna be okay, keep holding on. I’ve got you. I’ve got you” he’s whispering into your ear. You tightly squeeze your eyes shut feeling as though you’re being transported back to the day when you lost everything.

It started with a flutter in your chest, like the faint rustling of wings. You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to nerves, but the flutter didn’t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your breathing quickened, shallow and rapid, each breath feeling like it wasn’t enough, like there wasn’t enough air.

It started with trembling hands, and then your whole body followed, shaking uncontrollably. Feeling lightheaded, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly disappeared, leaving you suspended in a void. My chest tightened, squeezing tighter and tighter, making it even harder to breathe.

As quickly as the storm had begun, it passed over. Tyler wraps his arms around you. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” Your body continues to shake as you can’t seem to breathe. “It’s okay, just follow my breathing,” he turns you around so your face is in his chest.

”Deep breaths, in and out,” Tyler gives gentle directions as he rubs his palms over your arms.

”I think I’m okay now..” your voice is soft and hoarse as you choke the words out. His cold, rough hand gently brushes the hair from your face.

“You look like you’ve been through hell tonight.” He says, while helping you out of the pool. You stifle a small laugh in response. Boone and the rest of his crew come up to the pair of you, asking if you’re both alright.

“Y/N, baby. Are you okay?” Javi appears behind you, his hands gently pressing into your hips as he pulls you into a tight hug.

Tyler feels a pang of jealousy as he watches Javi slide his hands lovingly around your hips and pull you into the hug. He tries to shake the feeling, reminding himself that it’s not his place to care. Still, he can’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over him.

“I came as soon as I heard,” his eyes filled with worry as you looked up at him. “Where did you hide out? The pool?” You just nod in response, finding comfort in his arms. Javi keeps repeatedly asking if you’re okay, running his fingers through your hair and resting one hand on your waist.

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s okay,” you pull away from him, giving a soft smile. “I was with Tyler the whole time, he made sure I was okay.” He nods but his eyes flicker behind you.

“Javi, your little girlfriend is fine, now let's get to work.” Scott says loudly, catching the attention of Tyler and Lily. “Apparently this place was family owned so I’m gonna start working on numbers. Riggs is gonna want those first thing.” His voice and face are both emotionless and cold, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

“Wait wait,” you hold onto his arm. “What exactly is Riggs getting out of all your data collection?”

“What’s the matter?” He scratches his neck and awkward expression flashing over his features.

“Is profiting off of people’s tragedy part of your business plan? Why are you doing this?” You pull away from his body.

“Riggs is offering these people a way to move on with their lives.” He takes a step back from you, his voice raising slightly.

“Swooping in and taking advantage of people, who have just lost everything” you take a deep breath to steady your shaky voice “You have no idea what that’s like”

“I don’t know what that’s like?” His fist clenches “How about losing three of my best friends while you were trying to land a big fat grant for your science project?”

Your eyes fill with fresh tears as you look up at him, lip quivering. “Take your keys, I’m done.” You toss them at his feet walking off as fast as you can. Finding yourself drawn to Tyler and his wrangler team.

Tyler witnessed the whole exchange, and his protective instinct flares up again. He watches you stomp away from Javi, a mixture of anger and concern etched on his face. He notices the tears in your eyes and the wobble in your lip. He steps forward and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Can you just take me somewhere please?” Your voice trembles while Javi yells after you. Asking you not to leave like this.

Tyler shoots a warning glare over his shoulder at Javi before turning back to you. “Of course, darling. Anywhere you want to go.” Owen’s voice is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to his rough exterior.

He gently takes your elbow, steering you away from Javi, and his crew. Tyler leads you over to his Truck in the parking lot where the motel once was, his hand still on your elbow. Tyler opens the passenger door and guides you onto the seat, shutting the door before making his way around to the driver's side.

A sigh escapes your lips as you relax into the seat. You softly massage your nose bridge keeping your eyes squeezed shut as a tear escapes one of your eyes.

Tyler watches you silently as you try to regain your composure. He can sense the pain and hurt radiating off of you, and he wishes he could take it all away. After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Hey, look at me for a second.” He puts his hand on your knee rubbing small circles into your skin.

You open up your eyes, turning to look at him. Your lip still quivering slightly. Tyler’s heart aches as he looks into your tearful eyes. He reaches out and gently wipes the tear away with his thumb, his rough hands surprisingly tender against your face.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. You’re gonna stay with me tonight, okay?” His hand travels down your cheek as he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Before he starts the car he reaches into the backseat pulling out one of his hats, putting it on with his signature smile.

“You know, you deserve way better than that,” he turns the keys in the ignition. “You can do way better than him anyway.” You giggle while brushing your teary eyes.

“Do you think Javi and I are a couple?” Your once sorrow filled eyes light up with your laugh. A small smile tugs at the corner of Tyler's mouth as he watches you laugh. The sight of your smile warms his heart, and the pang of jealousy eases a bit.

“I mean, he seemed pretty possessive of you back there. And the way he was touchin’ up on you…” he lets his voice trail off, his jaw clenching slightly at the memory.

“Don’t tell me that makes you jealous,” a small smirk decorates your lips. You lean closer to his side, turning your body to further face him.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you lean closer to him, a wave of electricity coursing through his veins. He tries to keep his cool, but the hint of possessiveness flickers in his eyes once again.

“Jealous? Me?” he scoffs, trying to convince himself more than you.

Your eyes light up “Oh you’re totally jealous,” you brush your fingers over the skin on his arms, moving your hand to meet his.

A shiver runs down Tyler’s spine as your fingers travel along his skin, his heartbeat quickening at your touch. He tries to maintain a cool demeanor, but the flutter in his chest gives him away.

“Jealous? Of that jackass?”, his voice a little rougher this time. He looks down at your hand in his, noticing how small and delicate it looks against his own, rough and calloused hands. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to interlace his fingers with yours.

“Is that so?” You interlock your fingers with his as you lean over to kiss his temple. “It’s okay to be jealous, just tell me you don’t like seeing other men touching me,” you whisper into his ear, your voice filled with amusement.

Tyler takes a sharp breath as you interlace your fingers with his, his hand clamping tight around yours. “It does make me jealous,” he admits, his voice a gravelly whisper. His free hand squeezes the steering wheel, the muscles in his arm flexing tightly. “Alright, I don’t like seeing other men touchin’ you.” He brushes his thumb over the top of your hand.

A blush quickly rises up your face as you squeeze his hand firmly. Resting your head against his shoulder you bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Are we almost to a hotel?” Your heart races as you feel the muscles in his arm flexing.

Tyler glances out the window at the passing scenery, trying to distract himself from the feeling of you resting against his shoulder. He clears his throat before speaking, his voice still low and rough.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, the gentle movement betraying the tension in his body. He can’t help but steal a glance down at you, taking in your blushing face and the way you bite down on your lip. He fights the urge to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.

Using your free hand you run your fingers over his thigh, letting your mind wander as you think about your plans for the night. Trailing your hand closer and closer to his hips teasingly.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you run your fingers along his thigh, his body tense as you trail your hand closer to his hips. His mind starts racing with impure thoughts, visions of you pinned beneath him, your skin against his. He swallows hard, his muscles tensing further as he tries to control himself.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game, you know that?” his voice low and rough, almost coming out as a growl.

“Yeah?” You run your fingers over his golden belt buckle, “I like dangerous games,” your tongue poking out as you lick your bottom lip.

Tyler swallows hard when you touch his golden belt buckle, his body shuddering under your touch. He shifts in his seat, trying to hide the effect you’re having on him while also struggling to keep his eyes on the road.

“Oh yeah? How dangerous are you willing to go?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. He glances down at your tongue on your lip, his eyes darkening as he imagines what it would feel like against his skin.

“That depends, love,” you press soft kisses into his neck, moving your hand from his, resting it on his chest. “How far are you gonna wanna go?” Your eyes flicker to the hotel sign as the truck pulls into the parking lot.

Tyler lets out a shaky breath as you pepper kisses along his neck, his heart stuttering at the feeling of your lips on his skin. He places a hand over yours on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart thundering beneath your touch.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re really testing my limits right now.” he manages to say, his voice a growl. “But if it were up to me I’d go as far as you’d let me.”

He looks out the window as the truck pulls into the hotel parking lot, his mind racing with all the possibilities that the night holds. He leaps out of the truck running to your side to open the door for you.

“Well, you better hurry up and find us a room then,” you shut the door behind you. You pull the hat from his head, placing it on yours.

Tyler watches you stride ahead of him, his eyes drinking in the sight of his hat sitting on your head. He adjusts his jeans, trying to hide the stiffness growing in his groin as he follows you up to the hotel check-in desk.

“You’re a damn tease, you know that?” he mutters to you as he gets the room keys from the attendant. You flash him an innocent smile as you step into the elevator.

“But you’re too cute when you’re flustered.” Looking up at him you press both hands against his well-built abs. You slip your thigh between his legs as he reaches for the buttons on the elevator, pressing into his groin.

Tyler’s breath hitches at the feel of your hands on his stomach, his muscles flexing under your touch. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest as your thigh brushes against his stiffness, a guttural groan escaping his lips at the contact.

“Jesus, darlin'...you’re gonna be the death of me.” he pants, the words thick with lust. He struggles with the elevator buttons, his hands fumbling as his mind becomes increasingly clouded with need.

You stand up on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear “That’s the plan,”. You move one hand up to his jaw, pulling his face to yours. “Are you gonna kiss me yet?” You mumble.

Tyler swallows hard as you tease his ear with your hot breath, his body growing taut with desire. He looks down at your face, his gaze fixated on your lips as you speak. The words send a shiver down his spine, his restraint slipping by the second.

“You want me to kiss you, darlin’?” his lips hover just above your own. He runs a thumb across your lower lip, his eyes darkened by lust.

“Tyler, I want you to do much more than just kiss me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you press your chest against his. “Please,” you breathe out. The elevator dings as you get to the floor of your room.

Tyler’s control snaps at your words, a low growl escaping his lips as you press against him. He grabs your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you close, the pleading tone of your voice nearly undoing him.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the elevator and towards your room. You giggle into his ear while he unlocks the door.

Tyler grins at the sound of your giggles, his chest rumbling with a satisfied chuckle. He kicks the hotel door open, his eyes locking on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. He sets you down on the edge of the bed, towering over you as he places his hands on your thighs. You both kick your shoes off really quickly before getting back to it.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck as you pull his face to yours. You kiss him with hunger. Your free hand sliding up his shirt as you feel his smooth abs.

Tyler groans deep in his throat as you pull him towards you, his body responding instantly to your touch. He devours your lips with a primal need, his tongue exploring your mouth as he presses his body up against yours. His muscles twitch under your hand, fire spreading through his veins as you glide your fingers across his abs.

“Goddamn it, Y/N… you're makin' me crazy.” he gasps, his voice thick with desire. He kisses you again, his hands roaming up your thighs, tracing the curves of your body with rough yet tender caresses.

Your hands trail down his abdomen, landing on his belt buckle once again. Your fingers fumble with his belt before successfully pulling it out. Breaking the kiss you quickly remove your shirt, throwing it to the corner of the room.

“Mm Ty…” sucking on your bottom lip as you lean back on your hands while looking up at him seductively.

Tyler sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing under your touch. Once you remove your shirt, revealing the soft skin beneath, his gaze trails over your body, his eyes darkened by lust. He watches you lean back on the bed, your eyes locking with his in a sultry gaze.

“Mmm darlin’...” you sit up and pull him closer by the loops on his jeans, his strong legs coming between your own, spreading them apart. Lifting up his shirt you press kisses all over his tanned skin.

He reaches his hand out to touch your exposed skin, his fingers gently tracing your collarbone. “Then why don’t you do something about it baby?” You ask in a low tone.

His hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer as you spread your legs even wider for him. “Oh baby, you don't know what you're gettin' yourself into” he whispers, his voice rumbling with need.

He suddenly grips your hips tightly and flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours as he pins you against the bed. Reaching up you pull his shirt over his head almost moaning at the sight of his toned body.

He smirks as he watches your eyes rake over him, his ego growing at your reaction. “You like what you see, Y/N?” He asks, his voice rough with desire as he looks down at you, his body pressing against yours.

“Most definitely,” you capture his lips in a deep kiss, maneuvering to put him on his back, straddling his hips. Moving back you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. Pulling the pants off his hips you smile to yourself as you see how worked up you got him. Your hand slips into his boxers wrapping around his length.

He lets out a guttural moan, body arching into yours at the contact. “Oh God, baby…” he gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a string of curses. Tyler's sharp intake of breath was your reward, and you relish in the feeling of power it gives you. He grips the bed sheets tightly as you pull his dick out, wrapping your lips around the tip.

“Fuck,” he moans as you pull off and sit back on the bed, making sure your teasing antics continue. All you really want is for Tyler to take complete control and you know exactly how to make him. With slow, purposeful movements, you remove your bra, freeing your breasts and running gentle hands over your own body, nipples hardening under your touch. Then you sit back, pulling your panties off, giving him a show.

Tyler's breathing quickens, his desire palpable. "Damn it, Y/N, you know what I want," he said, his voice thick with need. "Stop teasing and give it to me."

A slow, seductive smile spreads across your face. "I'm not teasing, Tyler," you say, reaching for his hand and placing it on your thigh. "I'm just getting started." Guiding his hand, you slowly part your legs, exposing your wet, eager pussy to his touch. Tyler's fingers delve between the folds, his touch both gentle and demanding. You moan, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back while you relish in the sensation.

"That's it," you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows furrow with pleasure. "Touch me, Tyler. Make me cum." Your voice comes out in a gentle beg.

Tyler's other hand joins the first, exploring your most intimate places, his thumbs circling your clit as he plunged his fingers into the tight hole. Your hips buck as you begin riding his hands with waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Yes, just like that," you pant, your body trembling. "Oh, God, Tyler, don't stop. I'm so close."

Tyler quickens his pace, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me feel you fall apart."

With a sharp cry, you climax, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure rips through your entire body. Tyler continues working his magic, drawing out your orgasm and prolonging the exquisite sensation.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse into the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch a breath. Tyler hovers over your frame, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of triumph and desire.

"That," he said, his voice raw, "was just the beginning. Especially after all of that teasing you did,” his voice low and sultry. Tyler's lips curve into a devilish smile as he positions himself between your trembling legs. In one smooth thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. Moaning at the stretch, your body welcomes the invasion.

Tyler begin to move, his hips driving into you with a rhythmic pace. Meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back as you urge him on. The bed creaks in time with their passionate dance, the sound of your guys’s passionate gasps and moans filling the room.

"Harder, Tyler," you moan, your body craving much more. "Fuck me harder."

Tyler obliges, his movements becoming more urgent as he plunges into you again and again. The room echos with the sounds of your carnal coupling, the air heavy with the scent of sex.

Your body coils tight once more, climbing towards another orgasm. "I'm gonna cum again," you cry out, voice hoarse. "Don't stop, Tyler, please don't stop."

Tyler grunts his response, his own orgasm building. He reaches between their bodies, his fingers finding your slightly swollen clit and rubbing it in circles. It was all the stimulation you needed, and with a shout of release, you shatter into pieces, juices flooding around Tyler's hard cock.

Feeling you contracting around him, Tyler finally let go, thrusting deeply into you. Moaning into your ear as he spilled his seed, filling you with his warmth. You both cling to each other, breathing coming in ragged gasps as the two of you ride out the waves of your shared ecstasy. Collapsing onto the bed, bodies still joined, Tyler rolls onto his back, bringing your exhausted body with him so laying sprawled on top of him.

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

a/n (again): sorry just wanted to say that I’m working on making some more twisters smut, but i also have top gun maverick smut if y’all wanna check that out 😝🙏

[moonstruckme]

hi darling mae <33 I had a request for u if u don't mind today i woke up while having a panic attack i mean i don't know if it was a part of a dream but it was one of the scariest things ive ever experienced. and i was really hoping u could writing something with a reader going through the same thing with some hurt/ comfort as she wakes up ? any fandom, ship of character is fine by me,, if not that's ok lm just really spoked sorry :<

Hi angel! That sounds awful, I hope that was a once-in-a-lifetime event for you and you're feeling much better by now <3

cw: panic attack

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 785 words

You wake choking on your heart. 

It’s in your throat, and it’s galloping, the quick beat too much for your half-conscious mind to process. What you know is that you are terrified. 

At first you think you’re being smothered by your pillow. You turn your face to the side, gasping in the best breath you can, but it’s no use. It’s not the pillow, it’s you, there’s something wrong with you and you’re helpless to stop it. It feels like you’re collapsing from the inside out. 

Spencer mumbles your name, slow and confused. Then again, waking.

“Spence,” you say back, strangled. You reach for him, fisting your hand in his shirt with an unthinking neediness you’d never allow in full consciousness.

“Are you…?” His hand covers yours, brows coming together as he sits up blearily. You can tell by his face that the half-formed question is rhetorical. “Okay. You’re okay. Wait here.” 

You’re desperate to have him stay, your grip tightening on his shirt. “Spence—” 

“I know, I know, it’s just for a second.” Spencer disentangles your fingers gently, slipping from your grasp. “I’ll be right back.” 

You don’t know how much time passes before he is. You’re curled up on your side, covers kicked down beneath you, wondering if you should drag yourself to the toilet in case you get sick. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Spencer’s hand slips underneath your shoulder, lifting you off your side. “Let’s sit up. Okay? I’ve got something that’s going to help.” 

You let him maneuver you however he likes. You wind up slouched over with your knees to your chest, Spencer twisting your hair up in his hand to lay a wet washcloth over the back of your neck. It’s so cold that you gasp. 

“I know.” He pulls you closer, settling you against his side. The smell of his deodorant is grounding; it cures your nausea like a tonic. “Hold this for me?” 

Spencer puts his hand over yours. You cup your palm instinctively, shocked when he drops three cubes of ice into it. They’re already melting, cold water making rivulets of the lines of your palm. Some drops fall onto the sheets. 

“Cold exposure stimulates the vagus nerve,” Spencer explains, “which is here—” he taps the flat of your chest lightly with his middle finger, just over that deafening heartbeat “—and here.” He touches just underneath the cloth on your nape. “It controls the parasympathetic nervous system. Stimulating it causes that system to shift, which regulates your heart rate. Among other things.” 

You push your head into Spencer’s shoulder, your breaths skittering down his arm. He touches his lips to your head. 

“You’re okay,” he says into your hair. “I know it feels like you’re dying, but you’re not. It’s just a panic attack. It’ll pass.” 

You think that he might be wrong, but Spencer’s never actually wrong about anything. And even if you had the energy to argue, you could never really have enough energy to argue with him. It’s a losing battle. So instead, you close your eyes and feel the drip-drip-drip of ice water slipping from your palm. 

You spend a while like that. Spencer holds you securely against his side, once flipping your washcloth over when the part on your neck starts to warm. He tells you more about your nervous system, about studies and blood vessels and things you have to imagine he knows you won’t retain but doesn’t mind relaying to you anyway. The ice in your palm melts away completely. 

“You’re doing better,” Spencer murmurs, his fingers touching gently the pulse point of your neck. “Your heart’s slowing down. Can you feel that?” 

“I can feel.” You exhale, trying to release the tension from your muscles. 

“That came on kind of fast.” He sounds concerned. You nod, using your hand that held the ice to smear cold water on your face. “Were you asleep?” 

“I think so.” 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

You shake your head, exhausted. 

Spencer lifts part of the washcloth, feeling underneath before folding it over again and settling it back in place. “That must not have been a very nice way to wake up.” 

You don’t have the energy for levity or belittlement. You can only shake your head again. 

Spencer rests his lips on your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You let your head rest against his shoulder again, feeling bone-weary. “Thanks for helping. It wasn’t a fun way for you to wake up, either.” 

Your boyfriend makes a soft, demurring sound. “I’m sure that was tiring. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“No.” 

“Okay.” He takes the washcloth away, running his knuckles over your damp skin. “We’ll wait until you feel ready.” 

[paulyenvol6]

The Bolter

I feel like I have to write a part three because I need more fluff and Joel scenes with the baby but I kind of escalated with this and wrote so much so I'm gonna put it in a new chapter. Enjoy :)

Part 1 Part 3

Contains: angst, anxiety, panic attacks, fluff, lots of tears, comfort, sweet Joel who's a little scared of opening up, reader has long hair, nicknames (honey, pumpkin)

Wordcount: 7,755

Masterlist

4 months later

"Let me at least help you with the box," Maria rolled her eyes but you stubbornly grabbed the edge to lift the object into the air.

"I got it."

"Oh y/n, you know that it's not good to lift heavy things in your state. C'mon just lemme…"

You frowned and gently pushed her arm away. "I said I got it."

"You're one stubborn thing," Maria said but defensively raised her hands in the air. Then she walked over to the table letting her gaze lazily wander over the maps and books laid out on the wooden surface.

"You know, Tommy and I went hunting yesterday… It was so cold, I think I sat by the fire for three hours afterwards. But it was nice. You know that I love spending time with Benjamin but every now and then I just enjoy a few hours just with Tommy."

You smiled and then wiped over your forehead with the back of your hand to remove the droplets of sweat that had formed there.

"That sounds good. But yeah, the weather is nasty at the moment."

Maria nodded slowly and then darted at you like she was uncertain whether to say her next words. But of course she did.

"Joel took Benjamin while we were gone."

The silence that followed her words was almost unbearable and you could have heard a needle drop on the floor. The soft expression on your face tensed, your jaw clenched and your fingertips prickled, but you refused to let anything show and so turned your back to your friend as you placed one item after another from the box on your kitchen shelf. To Maria that seemingly wasn't a sign clear enough to drop the topic yet because she continued.

"Joel has changed his nightstand. He built it with Tommy. And he has new curtains which are olive coloured and it's such a lovely contrast to the couch."

At first, you intended to just ignore her words and come up with a new subject, but when you heard Maria clear her throat again you abruptly turned around to glare at her.

"It's not necessary to update me about everything that's happening in his life, you know?"

She shrugged her shoulders, her nail scratching over the rough surface and her eyebrows lifted.

"I'm not. Just a few things that I heard through Tommy."

"His fuckin' curtains, Maria?" The addressed scoffed, her eyes wandering to you again.

"You know what's my take on all of this. I get that it's hard and I said this a million times already, but you have to talk to him. For the child's sake at least."

You forrowed your brow, a thudding ache in your temples.

"I can raise it on my own. I don't need Joel."

Maria sighed loudly, approaching you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

"I know you can. I'm not sayin' you need to get back together with him just 'cause you're pregnant. We're not living in the 60s anymore. But all I'm sayin' is that he has the right to know."

You refused to show her how deep her words cut and that she truly had hit a nerve. You had found a good friend in Maria but she didn't need to know everything.

"He made it clear what he thinks of children. Why tell him? Why bother him? He doesn't want children and so nothing's gonna change if I tell him."

Maria's hand on your shoulder tightened and you squirmed watching her through gloomy eyes.

"And what is your vision for the future?" she asked and you had to surpress a desperate exhale. "What if Joel's gonna see you outside and notice that you're pregnant? I don't even wanna start with what's gonna happen once you deliver the baby. You think you can hide it from him for the rest of your life?"

"Maria," you said, tears glistening in your eyes. It wasn't like you denied any of what she had already told you a million times, it was just that you couldn't deal with this right now.

Perhaps you should have moved on from him by now. Well, you hadn't. Your heart was in pieces, you rarely woke up without a headache, you just couldn't find any joy in life, and the effects of your pregnancy didn't help either.

"Please," you added and that was the moment your friend realised that this wasn't the right time to talk into your conscience.

She sighed and then pulled you towards her, her hand cradling your head just the way Joel always used to and you let out a long frustrated sob that Maria reacted to by securing her grip around you and soothingly caressing your back.

"Oh y/n, it's okay… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it..."

You granted yourself a short amount of self-pity before pulling back and rubbing over your eyes. The feeling of your eyes being all puffy and sore had become so familiar over the past few months that you didn't even notice it anymore, because you felt you were spending more time crying than not.

"Sorry," you apologised but Maria shook her head.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I… I don't know, I guess I'm just tryin' to help you. But I don't think I am helping."

You chuckled bitterly but squeezed her arm. "You are. You are helping me by being here for me. I can't imagine how much worse all of this would be without you."

Your friend gave you a sad smile and then straightened her shoulders.

"I think I'm gonna leave now. Is that okay for you or do you need me?"

You pursed your lips, swallowing loudly because you felt that you actually wouldn't mind having her at your side every day for 24 hours but you couldn't be egoistic now. Maria had a family that needed her way more than you needed her so you forced a smile upon your mouth and slightly shook your head.

"No, it's fine. Maybe I'm gonna watch a movie. Or go for a walk."

You definitely wouldn't do either of these things. You hadn't been able to pull yourself together and go outside if there wasn't any need for it since the breakup and watching a movie only reminded you of Joel. You had caught yourself many times thinking about what he would have thought about specific scenes while watching a film and obviously it had only made you feel more miserable. So no, you had lied to Maria and would probably spend the rest of the time staring at a wall or sleeping or perhaps if you would feel unusually well today – although nothing hinted at that fact so far – read a book. But Maria seemingly didn't spot your lie and just nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I think some fresh air would be good for you. Just call me if you need anything. I told you, Tommy is very understanding."

"Thank you, Maria. Seriously," you whispered and meant it.

She nodded again and then hugged you firmly, slightly swinging you to the side, the warmth of her hands wandering through the fabric of your hoodie and prickling on your skin. You almost would have sobbed again because anything that reminded you of Joel and your time together in the slightest way already caused you immense pain and right now you just missed feeling Joel's arms around you so much, you weren't even able to vocalise it.

Fortunately, you managed to hide how close you were to breaking down once again and lasted until the door was shut before letting the tears flow. It was an exhausting and tiring cycle at this point and you feared you actually weren't capable of making it stop. You woke up crying and went to bed crying and the worst part was, all it took was a book or a picture or even just a smell. You sometimes even felt ashamed about your behaviour especially when Maria saw you like that but what were you supposed to do?

One weekend a few weeks ago, you had changed your tactics because you felt you couldn't go on like this. It had caused a series of unplesant events which had lead to you swearing to never leave the house again if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

You called Maria one morning and asked her to go to the town centre and have breakfast with you. To say she had been surprised was an understatement. As soon as you had hung up, there had been a quivering, dangerous bubbling in your stomach, but you had ignored it and dragged yourself out of the house and to the café where Maria had reserved a table for two. But long story short, the morning had ended with your tears spilling in your coffee and all of the other guests giving you uncertain glances all throughout breakfast.

Not only had you completely embarrassed yourself and disturbed everyone else in the café, you had also come the realisation that Joel had surely learned about your dramatic scene as well. Jackson was a small town after all and dramatic outbursts like these usually reached the ears of even the most secluded citizens of the city.

After that you had given up just as quickly and spent the next days on your couch again and although you felt terrible about being so dramatic and not being able to move on, you didn't have the energy to force yourself to try and get out of the house. It was easier to sink into your cushions and cry thinking about Joel.

Was it helping you? You didn't know. You felt horrible most of the time but you had felt horrible in the café with Maria too and at least no one could watch your crying sessions in your living room so there it was. You preferred the quiet company of your blanket and hot tea over humiliating yourself in front of the whole town so it was an easy choice.

You slowly headed to the couch and rubbed over your swollen tummy a few times while sinking down on it. You were almost five months pregnant now and by now there was a prominent bulge and you caught yourself lovingly caressing it every now and then. Of course the baby was another reminder of Joel and there had been times when you had to cry over the fact that it had been him and you that had created the little child in your belly but the baby had also been a source of happiness to you during these hard times.

Watching your stomach grow, thinking about what it would feel like to hold it in your arms and imagining yourself strolling through the park with the child in a pram. You currently felt so miserable, you sometimes believed you would never be able to smile or laugh again, but you would have to. You had no choice. The baby was on its way and you would push through this horrible time for the baby's sake. Once it would be born you would care for two living creatures and while you were neglacting your welfare at the moment by rotting in your living room, you couldn't do the same thing to the baby. You had sworn to yourself to protect and shelter it so this was what you were going to do.

You slightly spread your legs getting in a comfortable position and then closed your eyes as you felt the quietness of the room make your head drowsy. It was quiet in here a lot these days. Your hand was still resting on your stomach, rubbing in soft circles because something about it never failed to comfort you although you sometimes involuntarily imagined that it was Joel's hand in the place of your own hand.

His large hand brushing over the swell of your tummy and his soft puppy eyes taking in each curve and line of your face while you sat on the couch for hours, the mere presence of each other enough for the two of you. His perfect fucking eyes… His curly soft hair…

Before you could even realise it you had drifted off to sleep and when you woke up an hour later the beautiful sun was gone, replaced by a shadow of clouds hanging over the town. You sighed and stretched your arms, a loud yawn escaping your throat. Then you looked at the clock and thoughtfully bit your lower lip. You weren't hungry for dinner yet, but you couldn't think of anything you were in the mood for. For a brief moment, just a flickering short thought, your mind wandered off to Joel again.

No. This wasn't helping.

You let out a dramatic whine, pressing a pillow on your face to muffle the cry and then hit with your fist against the armrest of the couch. Why did everything have to be so goddamn complicated all of the time? Why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

The bad mood hung over you all day long, even when you tried to read a few pages or play the piano, and finally you gave up and tucked yourself into bed at 8pm, your mind still wide awake.

The next day started equally unpromising and when you sat at your kitchen table watching your cereal with disgust and your stomach already rumbling although you hadn't taken a single spoon yet you figured that you had to do something. You would inevitably lose your mind if you kept going like this.

A sudden force took over you and the adrenaline shot throught your veins, making your nerves prickle and your heart pound in your chest. You pushed the bowl away from you to rise to your feet and let the invisible strength guide you towards the door. Whatever you were about to do, it was better than drowning in self-pity on your couch so you actively shut your mind off while your feet carried you to the wardrobe, your hands automatically reaching for your coat and then the door handle.

You were welcomed by sunlight which seemed to only encourage you and for the first time in weeks you felt something similar to hope. Your face was drawn with determination and pugnacity as you strolled through the streets and of course you involuntarily were headed towards a very specific building just a few houses further down the street.

Every confidance and energy magically left your body at the sight of the mailbox.

Joel Miller.

Just reading those two words did something to you and activated this longing in you that you so desperately had been trying to fight over the past weeks.

Joel Miller.

The words rang in your ear as if it was him who said them and suddenly you didn't feel strong at all. Suddenly you felt like you wouldn't even have the strength to walk back to your house anymore, your feet anchored in the alleyway beneath you and an invisible weight heavily pulling at your body.

Joel Miller.

You gulped and the sound seemed to echo in your head. This was so goddamn wrong. You couldn't sneak up on him like a pathetic weasel and show him that you after four months still weren't able to accept the fact that he had broken up with you. As if you hadn't embarrassed yourself enough already. But what was definitely even worse than confronting him was standing in his front garden like you were some kind of obsessive stalker who couldn't decide on whether to approach him or not so you chose to back out again.

Perhaps the option of talking to him would come up again, maybe solely for the purpose to somehow feel better, but you should think about it surrounded by your own four walls instead of right in front of his door. Yes, you would weigh it up and then if you decided to visit him you would come prepared and ready to see him after all those weeks.

"Y/n?"

You froze in the motion, your mind blank and your eyes springing open. Everything around you went silent. Perhaps you had only imagined the words in your head; it would be no surprise considering the emotional torture you currently went through. No wonder you were beginning to grow insane.

You hadn't heard the approaching footsteps and neither had you heard the loud breathing close to your ear but when you felt a hand on your shoulder you flinched and abruptly spinned around. You tasted copper on your tongue and your throat felt raw. Joel looked exactly the way he had when he had left you four months ago but in some way he seemed like a different human being.

"Y/n," he whispered or at least you believed it was what he had said because you didn't hear him but could only watch the movement of his lips.

Your view was shimmering and you swallowed hard to fight the dryness in your mouth. You had to say something, explain yourself and your awkward behaviour but it was hard to when there was this high-pitched ring in your ears. His lips moved again but this time you were incapable of figuring out what he had said and therefore you panicked. Tears stung in your eyes and your hands began to shake while you saw him scan your face through your blurry view. Your chest felt hollow and sweat broke across your shoulderblades, your fingers curling and uncurling like you were trying to grasp something.

In addition the cold air bit and nibbled at back of your neck, the wind like shards of ice against your sensitive skin. You cringed and felt your bottom lip tremble, your pupils nervously wandering between Joel's eyes when you felt his grip on your shoulder tighten.

"Let's get you inside. You're shivering."

You were so relieved about the fact that you had finally been able to comprehend him, that you didn't think about the expand of the content of his words until you stepped through his front door, the familiar scent of his home that reminded you of leather and sandlewood heavy in your nose. You sniffled, perhaps to enjoy the smell for a little bit longer and then let your glossy eyes wander over his living room, the comfortable couch you knew all too well, the armchair you had often sat in when the two of you were still getting to know each other and were too shy to sit close to each other and the floor lamp in the corner that radiated the most beautiful kind of yellow light.

You didn't know how long you were staring but when a hand gently pulled you to a chair you allowed it, your body fully trusting that Joel would guide you. He sat down across from you, his hands resting on the surface of the table as he watched you closely, your stressed state of mind not lost on him.

"Are you all right?" he demanded to know, his eyes twitching worriedly when you dropped your gaze to your hands folded in your lap.

You felt awful. NNot only had you probably unsettled and disturbed Joel with your unexpected appearance in his front garden, you were now in his living room, which brought back many memories, each of which hurt like a twisted knife stabbing you in the heart, and he was probably too polite to tell you to fuck off.

Perhaps he was just pitying you. Thinking of you as a helpless child that couldn't take care of herself and now he had to babysit you and make sure you wouldn't pull some other humiliating shit.

"M'sorry," you mumbled and hiccuped which made you press a hand on your mouth. "Sorry," you repeated before a hand reached for yours and grabbed it to squeeze it lightly.

"Don't," was all he said but you finally were brave enough to dart at him. "S'alright."

Silence. You had endured a lot of silence since Joel had broken up with you, but you didn't know if it was his presence or the fact that you had fallen in love with his cosy little living room as much as you had fallen in love with him, but either way, right now you didn't mind silence. No, you even needed it like air to calm your upset mind and the longer you sat quietly, the more you felt your heartbeat slow down and your brain starting to work normally again.

The minute of rest made it possible for you to take a deep breath and although Joel didn't take his eyes off you for a mere second, it was like the two of you had come to some kind of silent understanding and as if he could read your mind he gave you just the perfect amount of time before clearing his throat.

"Why are you here?" he asked and grabbed his coffee mug to toy with the handle.

Your pale face drew with fear because you hadn't been able to prepare youself for this question, let alone figure out why you were actually here. So instead of answering you brought your hand to the edge of the table, scratching over the wood with the nail of your thumb. Your hair fell over your shoulders making you feel more shielded from his piercing gaze and despite feeling ungrateful and horrible for ignoring his question you waited and waited. You didn't know what for, but maybe there would be some sign or some disruption or perhaps he would say something, maybe even tell you that he had missed you.

"Do you want some tea?" Joel suddenly asked and the sound of his voice made you twitch. It was so strange to hear his voice after weeks of missing it and imagining it in your head and now he was actually here sitting at the same table as you. And maybe he was just being polite or seeing it as some kind of charity work, but at least he hadn't left yet.

"Yes," you answered, your voice croaked and thin but his eyes seemed to brighten up a little, relieved to finally hear you speak for the first time.

"Okay. S'gonna take a minute, but I'm gonna hurry up."

He rose to his feet, his hand brushing over the backrest of his chair and when he headed to the kitchen door, an ache spread in your heart cutting off your air supply. Perhaps it was the memory of him leaving you all those nights ago but a fear gripped you and squeezed so hard you saw white for a brief moment. You wanted to scream for him not to go and beg him on your knees if need be but fortunately a little something in you remained sane and held you back before Joel would officially declare you as mentally ill.

But that didn't mean that you didn't do anything and watched him leave in silence. The burden on your heart was simply too heavy, the pain in your chest too sharp and the throbbing heat in your head too intense. Something was urgently punching you in the stomach, right between your ribs, as if to demand your attention and so you raised your voice and although it was high and weak, it made Joel stop before he could reach the doorstep.

"Joel."

He turned around, his brown eyes concerned but curious and the slight nod of his head encouraged you enough to say the following words. You didn't know where they came from and what made you actually express them, but you did and what followed felt like the passing of years and years of time.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence that haunted his living room was so thick and loud, it pressed down on your shoulders, pushing you deeper into the chair and your skin was prickling with the aftermath of your announcement. Now that the words were out you wondered what had driven you. Where the strength to make your tongue and lips form those words had come from. There had been countless occasions to tell Joel back when the two of you had been a couple but each time your body had refused to cooperate and now you had suddenly managed to do it. And although your body was tense with cold fear you felt relieved as well. Nothing was standing between him and you now and sure, it would be a lie to deny that Maria had been right. As the father he deserved to know about his own child no matter the context and no matter what he had revealed about his personal attitude towards children. It was only fair.

There was a crease between his brow but you couldn't figure out if it was caused by anger or overload or being moved or perhaps even felicity. You silently watched him giving him the time to process those two words that still seemed to linger in the air that was thick with tension. It had taken you a lot of time to understand what it would mean to have a child as well so you patiently observed your ex - boyfriend who now bit on his bottom lip and whose eyes seemed to be glistening with tears but it was hard to tell over the distance.

And then a muscle in his forehead twitched and the next thing you felt were his arms around you. Joel had approached you, stepping in front of you and leaning down to hold your head against his chest, your face pressed against his neck which gave you no choice but to inhale his perfect scent. It was so good, so beautiful that you were crying within seconds but this time it didn't matter because you were almost certain that it hadn't been you who had produced the quiet sniffling sound the now reached your ears.

He held you so firmly and tightly like he wanted to make sure if you were actually there or perhaps he was scared to lose you and you wished you had the ability to tell him that you wouldn't go away. How dearly would you have liked to whisper in his ear and express how much you loved him, how much you had missed him and how much you wished to never pull away from this hug.

To say that you had cried a lot over the past few months would be an understatement, and although you had hoped that it had helped you deal with your emotions at least a little, right now the crying part felt like letting it all out all over again. The pain, the hurt, the love, the frustration. Everything was slipping past your lips against Joel's broad chest and he caught it, his hand cradling your head letting you know that he was there to take away the sorrow and that you now didn't need to worry anymore.

"J-Joel," you whimpered just to do anything because the accumulated tension and emotions in you threatened to be too much. You needed to scream or squeeze something. Everything was a strange mixture of joy and happiness about finally getting to be so close to him again, sadness and despair about the past miserable weeks and fear that this wouldn't last. That he would draw back any second and leave you in the cold again, the warmth his body radiated fading any moment and his arms that held you so securely pulling away so you had to hold yourself up on your own again.

But nothing hinted at the fact that he would do so any time soon. His fingers were entangled in your hair holding you like you would collaps without him which probably wasn't far from the truth. He had stepped between your legs, his other hand on the small of your back to make sure every inch of your body was as close to him as possible. And then there was his breathy voice brushing over your ear like a promise. A promise not only to reassure you that he was here and that this was real, but that no matter what would happen, it wouldn't be like last time.

"Yes. I know," he said, gently rocking you at the sound of another broken cry. "I know… I'm right here, pumpkin."

"I don't want you to go," you sobbed, your hand pinching the hem of his shirt while your other rested next to your head against his chest.

"I'm not gonna leave you… Don't you worry…"

But then you felt his hand on your head loosen and you twitched in panic as he pulled away, your eyes round as coins and your hands instantly grabbing his chequered shirt to prevent him from leaving you.

"S'alright," he cooed and took your face into both of his big hands. "Just wanna take a look at ya."

Your chin trembled and your pupils avoided him, but his eyes were on you and so were his thumbs that gently caressed your wet cheeks like you were something fragile that he couldn't believe he got to hold in his hands.

"Joel…," you mumbled again, your fingers tightly closing around his wrists and your eyes pleadingly looking up to him under your lashes.

"Yes, pumpkin. I'm here. N'I'm sorry…"

He sounded… sad and genuinely regretful while he had breathed these words and hope was bubbling in your stomach. And even though you knew how dangerous it was, you couldn't bring yourself to question your optimism right now. This was too good and the blistering liquid that escaped from your eyes along with your twisting insides was evidence enough that this was just the medicine you needed. Not a reality check or a reminder of Joel's words about offspring.

"N-No," your voice was overflowing, your fingers digging into the skin of his underarms like you couldn't believe yet that he didn't intend to drop you any second. He tightly clenched his teeth as if he was in pain and then leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips soft and careful, shy almost.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Joel whispered once he looked at you again. His eyes were glistening as well and you could make out the traces of tears on his face but just couldn't figure out what it meant. He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat before his gaze dropped to your belly.

"When… I mean… when did you find out?"

"A few days before…"

There was no need to finish the sentence; Joel slowly nodded, his hands remaining tight and warm around your face.

"An' why didn't you tell me?" was his next question and the blood in your veins froze at his husky voice.

The thought of being confronted with his dislike for children once more made your stomach turn and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it a second time. But now his question lingered in the air and not answering wasn't an option. He deserved to know everything and now that you had taken the first step to clear up the air you intended to lay all of your cards on the table. Still, it took you a few seconds to sort out your brain, to form the words in your head, and as your pupils danced frantically, your eyes staring into space, Joel let go of you, which you responded to at first with a disapproving moan, but then he pulled up a chair, sat down close to you and took your hands in his.

"S'okay. Take your time."

His thumb drew patterns over the back of your hand leaving goosebumps on your arms and you granted yourself a few more seconds of watching his beautiful thick fingers before clearing your throat and concentrating in an attempt to control the mess that was your brain.

"'Cause of what you said," you whispered, eyes twisted in pain at the memory. The wound had had over four months to heal, but it was still fresh and talking about it seemed to open it up and heal it at the same time.

You searched in his eyes for a sign that he understood what you were talking about but you didn't and so you ignored your racing heart and the way your body rejected to talk about it and explained to him.

"You… you said that you didn't want any kids… I wanted to tell you before, but… I don't know I was overwhelmed and then I planned to, I really did, but-but… you know there was our fight and then you said that and-and I was scared that you would… I don't know leave me when I tell you and you were angry with anyway. And then you b-broke up a-and… and I just couldn't."

There had been a break in your voice at the last word and your gaze had dropped to your lap. Saying these words had been hard enough already and looking right into Joel's eyes? There was no way you would have handled it without at least helplessly clinging to his body.

He didn't reply at first which you were more than thankful for because it took you a couple of minutes to collect yourself from the confession you had just made and once Joel trailed with his thumb over your knuckles, softly clearing his throat you felt strong enough to meet his gaze. You had to. You had to work out what it all meant for your future.

"I'm sorry. I really am." He leaned towards you again, this time kissing your temple, and you involuntarily grabbed his hand that was holding your head, feeling so in need of any kind of physical contact.

"I… Listen, I…" He exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, his eyes closed and then made another attempt.

"I know I said that. And… I don't know in that situation I might've meant it, but…" He sighed again and almost furiously ran a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… I'm really not good at this stuff."

This time it was you who gently squeezed his hand and he gave you the faintest hint of a soft smile.

"The point is… I think I said it 'cause I just never thought having another kid would ever be an option. I didn't think about it. After… After she, you know… After it happened I was… I was at the lowest point in my life a-and I… I had all these thoughts thinkin' I could never have a child again 'cause I couldn't risk goin' through somethin' like that again. I had a girlfriend once an' at this time I was so fuckin' careful not to get her pregnant 'cause it was just a few years after the outbreak and I thought that havin' a child now would be the worst thing that could happen not only because of… you know, her, but also 'cause we were still tryin' to get a grip on everythin' and… you know, adapt… to everything."

He exhaled again but this time he did it out of relief.

"With you it's not like that." Your heart jumped.

"I… I don't know I met you and-and got to know you and everythin' was perfect… but it never crossed my mind that children… you know, were still an option. And that's why I said it when you mentioned her. Maybe 'cause it brought back old memories and old things that I promised myself back then and I just said them 'cause it was sort of an instinct. Or maybe 'cause I was angry at you and I just wanted to make you feel how terrible I felt after it happened so you'd feel bad. Make a scene or I don't know… Anyways, I didn't mean it. It meant nothing to me and that's why I couldn't even remember. And I wouldn't have said it if I knew that you were pregnant."

A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and your eyes followed it all the way down until it touched the curve of his lip.

"I'm sorry, too," you whispered, the muscles in your chin twitching when Joel pulled your hand to his body to gently cage it between his own hand and his chest.

"No. Don't ya say that."

"But I am. I said awful stuff and you don't have to deny it. You had every right to be angry with me."

A sharp sniffle escaped you as a fresh wave of tears broke forth, mirroring the sun’s slow descent beyond the horizon. It was so sudden and intense that Joel's lips parted in shock and the was fast to move his chair even closer to you so your dropped head could lean against his shoulder.

"I missed you so much, Joel," you cried, the pain of the past 4 months crashing down upon you and you could do nothing but let it all out.

You surrendered to it, allowing the sadness, the fear, the anger and frustration, the regret and loneliness to get into your system and afflict your cells like a disease because you found it was the only way to eventually heal. And once again, you felt that with Joel at your side you were strong and courageous enough to face the sorrow, his support being what you needed to deal with the memories that you had been so frightened of over the last weeks.

"I missed you too, pumpkin. So so much…"

You clung to each other for life, seeking the comfort you had longed for so long and for the first time in months you actually felt that you could breathe freely. Nothing was restricting your air supply, no lump, no thickness in your throat that made you want to puke on the floor. You enjoyed the closeness for a few more minutes before preparing yourself for yet another thing that you felt you had to get off your chest.

"B-But...what you said the next day..." you began, looking up at him nervously as he retreated slightly.

Your eyes were begging for him, yearning for him to tell you that everything was going to be fine and that his reasons for breaking up with you were nothing more than meaningless excuses for feeling overwhelmed by circumstances.

Joel sat down again but didn't lose contact with your hand for a second.

"I know," he murmured and rubbed over the lower half of his face. "I… God, I don't know…"

"It was because of the fight, wasn't it?" you tried to help him, watching him precisely while he lay back in his chair.

"Kinda," Joel replied, rubbing his shoe tips together.

"Christ…," he cursed and you knew how difficult it was for him to express his thoughts. Joel wasn't the kind of man who usually faced his fears and vulnerabilities and talking to you about why he had felt the need to push you away from him? You couldn't emphasise enough how much you appreciated the fact that he tried for you.

"I mean, yeah, it kinda was 'cause of the fight. I… I did have doubts about the age gap thing sometimes, you know? Specially when we started datin'. But yeah, I mean you're a grown-up an' you can make your decisions and… maybe I'm an asshole but I wouldn't have ended our relationship because of it."

He nodded a few times, as if going over what he had just said and realising that he was on the right track.

"You know me, pumpkin," he then whispered, his voice soft and tender as his sparkling eyes took in your face and you couldn't help but melt under his gaze and at the sound of your favourite nickname. His voice embraced you like a warm blanket making you shudder and softly smile as Joel thoughtfully twisted his lips and the continued.

"You know that I ain't good at this stuff. Never was. An' I… I guess I panicked. When I heard you talk that night… and you spoke about openin' up and me drawin' back from you… I reacted. I reacted the only way I know and I shut down."

He paused, his lashes fluttering as he stared at the table as if there was anything interesting to see there.

"Maybe… I don't know, maybe it got too real. Maybe you became too real. The fact that you're here in – in my life and don't intend to leave and I… it was like a natural reaction. 'Cause it's what I do. I never was good at this and ever since… you know, ever since it happened with her I… I didn't want anyone to be that close again. 'Cause I fuckin' know what it feels like to lose someone like that. And I just… I saw in that moment how close you had gotten, y/n and seein' how much it hurt me that I hurt you… I realised that maybe I went too far with lettin' you in."

He sighed and let go of your hand, placing them on the table instead to trail his thumb over the rough surface.

"The thing about… her is that I – I just can't talk about it. It's… it's been 20 years and I – I just can't. And then you brought it up and – and it hit me like a… like a goddamn wrecking ball or somethin'. It was too much. But not just 'cause I didn't want to talk about it and it hurt so much but 'cause I realised that maybe…" He stopped again slightly shaking his head and sat up in his chair.

"I realised that maybe opening up to is what I would like? I mean I was stressed 'n' all and it was too much at once, but the thought of – of you gettin' to know more an' lettin' you in wasn't… so far away. And it was kinda pleasant to imagine talkin' to you 'bout it. 'Cause you're kind and – and sweet and I trust you but these feelings were so new and strange that I got scared and left 'cause I thought that would be easier."

He sighed like a massive weight had just dropped off his heart and perhaps that was exactly what had happened. Your tearful eyes were on his mouth as he still avoided your gaze, but as his flickering pupils sought you and your answer to all this, you drew your eyebrows together, tears threatening to spill again.

"I don't know if all of that makes any sense," Joel mumbled.

"It does," you breathed, nodding over and over again while a few silent tears ran down your flushed skin. "Thank you. For telling me."

Now it was him who nodded and to you it was a promise. A promise that Joel wouldn't bolt again. That he wouldn't take the easy path next time and run off because things became uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Joel. I should've told you earlier. And I should've been more sensitive regarding… you know."

"S'okay. I didn't exactly make it easy f'you," he whispered, his voice hollow but stable.

You grabbed his hand that felt warm and soft despite the marks the years had left on his skin and clenched it so tightly that it must hurt but Joel didn't even flinch.

"And m'sorry too. All of the shit I said… Goddamnit, honey, I didn't mean it and I… I – I mean if you want it… I'd like to raise this child with you. Of course I would."

Your heart not only jumped, it seemed to pirouette. It was racing, pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears and for the first time in months there was no weight pulling your limbs down. No, you rather seemed to defy gravity and felt so light that you would surely be able to ascend from the ground if you wanted to. But of course you didn't. All you wanted was to stay in this house with Joel until the end of time.

"Really?" you breathed, softly chuckling when his fingers wiped away a tear.

"Of course, pumpkin. I love you. I love you more than anythin' in this goddamn world. You're my air, my - my reason to keep goin'. I need you, honey and these last weeks have been hell."

Seeing your nose wrinkle as more and more tears streamed down your cheeks, he put his hands on your waist to pull you towards him once more and this time moved you to sit on his lap, arms sliding around your waist to keep you close.

"B-But then why d-didn't you come t-to me?" you sobbed, your nails digging into his shirt like your claws wanted to claim your prey.

"I did. I wanted to every single day, but I… I was scared that you hated me an' that I would only make things worse. I thought maybe you didn't wanna see me."

"I love you," you pressed against his hair, shivers coursing through your arms and your fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. "Never leave me again."

"I won't. I promise you, baby."

His fingers wove through your hair with tender precision, untangling every stubborn knot and once your hair flowed down your back like soft silk, his palms gently settled against your waist.

"We're gonna have our own l'il family," he whispered pulling back to meet your gaze and gently, carefully and lightly as the soft spring breeze outside brushed with his hand over the curve of your belly caressing you through the fabric of your sweatshirt and exploring where life was growing in that moment.

You bit your lip as you looked down at him, the colors around him suddenly brighter, the outlines of objects sharper. Even the shadows seemed to recede, the living room bathed in golden light, and the birds outside were singing a little louder than usual. This man had just lit up your world and everything from your own future to the future of this world seemed more optimistic. Full of possibilities and options.

"I'm happy, Joel."

The pats of his fingers stroked your cheek right next to the corners of your mouth, tracing your laugh lines and although it was still unfamiliar to smile again it felt natural to do so while sitting on Joel's lap, your torso pressed against him and strands of your hair hanging in his face.

"So am I, pumpkin."

And then you kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @bbabycass

And shoutout to @mrspascalsworld

[rc-writes]

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: matt murdock x reader (could be both romantic & platonic)

warnings: reader has poor vision and can't really get around on their own without their glasses

a/n: brought to you by this little blurb i wrote a little while ago! completely inspired by me realizing a few weeks ago that i would be useless even in my own house without my glasses/contacts and then thinking about what would happen if i was outside anywhere lol

This could not be happening.

All you wanted to do was go home and celebrate by doing nothing the rest of the day because your boss let everyone in your department go home early. But then the elevator just had to be out of order, and you just had to take the stairs, and you just had to have happened to wear those shoes you couldn't fully walk correctly in just yet, and you just had to momentarily stumble on the third step down.

All events just had to happen in a domino effect that resulted in your glasses sliding off your face and then over the railing. You being forced to helplessly listen to them clank against other rails as they went down until they hit the ground, most likely shattering into a million pieces.

For a long moment you just looked over the railing, down into the blurry abyss as you contemplated whether or not you could make it the rest of the way down by yourself. A decision that was abruptly decided when you realized even if you made it the rest of the way down without falling, there was no way you would be able to make it back home. No way you could walk through New York City half blind and no way you would trust getting into a taxi without being able to see where they were taking you. You did NOT want to end up on one of those true crime shows all because you tripped on the third freaking step!

After another long moment of panic creeping in you suddenly remembered there was one person you could call for help. One person you knew would never let you hear the end of this but also someone who wouldn't laugh at you cruelly.

You had to call Matt Murdock. You had to call the one blind man in your life to guide YOU home.

And so, here you were sitting on the top of the steps as you searched through your phone contacts with your phone just a few inches from your face. A task so simple if it wasn't for the fact that if you moved your hand just the tiniest bit back you could no longer read the names on the screen and the fact that in your panicked state your hands shaking.

Finally, you found his name and clicked the call button as if your life depended on it. Which considering you probably couldn't tell who or when someone else entered the stairwell, this could be considered a life-or-death situation.

Unfortunately, however, at this moment Matt, Foggy, and Karen were in a meeting with a potential client at the office. Something that shouldn't have caused too much of an issue since Matt would normally have immediately left the room when his phone rang and said you were calling, but there was another domino effect in place.

Earlier that morning when Matt put his phone on his desk, he somehow accidentally set it to silent. There was no sound signaling someone was calling and it being in the other room meant no one could see that it was lighting up.

Not knowing why he wasn't answering, you were forced to leave a voicemail and pray he would get to it soon. And then when "soon" didn't happen you decided texting Karen to tell him to check his phone was the backup move. Though you refrained from telling her any details, not wanting your little mishap to spread to more ears.

This refraining being one of the three causes Matt was just about to have a heart attack in the middle of the office at 1pm.

The second being your vague and terrifying voicemail. "Matt can you please come get me from my work? I'm in the stairwell. Hurry please!"

The third being that any of his attempts to call you back failed, it kept going straight to the recorder.

Now while you were sitting in the corner at the top of the stairwell praying no one else used these stairs with a phone that died right before he tried to call, Matt was in the middle of Hell's Kitchen looking like a lunatic jumping from roof to roof.

"Hey, where did Matt go? He was just here?" Foggy had asked Karen about two minutes after Matt left.

"Uh, he just said he had to leave right now because his "world depended on it" and then he kinda just jumped out the window…"

"I'm going to kill him, I swear. We were so close to getting a client that actually wanted to pay us!"

As Matt drew closer and closer to your office building, he grew more and more confused. Yes, he could hear that there didn't seem to be any real danger around you, but that didn't explain why your heart was beating a million miles per minute.

"Wait, that's why you called me sounding so frantic? God, I thought you were hurt!" Matt said between a laugh and a huff when you explained to him your predicament.

"Well, my ego is definitely hurt so you weren't that far off." You had tried to joke. You couldn't exactly see the look on his face, but the blob in front of you looked vaguely like his hands were on his hips which told you he wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment.

Eventually, after just a few steps out the building the jokes from him did start piling in.

"One of us is legally blind, the other is partially visually impaired. Guess who's the one leading who!"

"I think you just stepped in an odd substance." "What!?" "Just kidding!"

"Watch out there's a car there." "Matt I'm pretty sure I can still see a giant metal rectangle five feet from me." "Just wanted to make sure!"

"Watch out for that lamp post!" "I'm pretty sure that's a dog." "No, I think it's definitely a lamp post."

Oh, how you wanted to just push him into oncoming traffic. If you did though you'd probably get charged with a hate crime, AND you would have to wonder half blindly the rest of the way back home.

So, you don't push him. this time. Matt could be such a little shit but who else would have dropped everything to scurry across the city at the odd chance that you were in trouble? Who else would make you feel not stupid about being afraid to go off on your own? Who else would make a situation that is incredibly terrifying in an insane city seem like just another fun day with someone you cared about? Who else could possibly replace Matt Murdock?

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 15

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6k

Trigger warning; anxiety, panic attack

notes; Hey everyone, hope you had a great week ! I'm back with a new chapter hehe. This chapter is covering pretty hard topics so please be careful while reading it. I think it's something that we all expected to happened at some point... Still I hope you will enjoy it ! bisous and see you next week ;)

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The sky was painted in hues of deep blues and soft golds as the sun barely began its ascent over Velaris. The cool morning breeze brushed against your skin as Azriel landed smoothly in front of the clinic, his arms still securely wrapped around you.

You had kissed him before he left, your fingers lingering on his before he took off, his powerful wings spreading wide as he ascended into the sky. You watched him until he was no more than a speck in the distance, disappearing beyond the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains.

A soft sigh left your lips. What the hell had the past few days been?

As you turned to enter the clinic, the warm scent of herbs and fresh linens greeted you. The usual quiet hum of early morning preparation filled the halls as healers moved about their duties.

And right at the front desk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in playful accusation, stood Elira.

“Well, well,” she drawled, an eyebrow arching in amusement. “If it isn’t Y/N—or someone who just took her place because I refuse to believe that the Y/N I know suddenly started going out with someone and miraculously stopped working herself into an early grave.”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping past her and setting your satchel on the counter. “What can I say? Maybe I was kidnapped and replaced with someone new.” You smirked, shooting her a wink.

Elira gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “So, you mean to tell me that there is a version of Y/N out there still holed up in this clinic, working until collapse? And here I thought the world had ended when you left early last night.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Well, that version of me is still in here somewhere, I assure you. I just… found some balance.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Balance? More like Azriel.”

You shot her a playful glare, but before you could retort, she slid a note across the counter.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “you got a message from the High Lady this morning. Apparently, her sister is waiting for you today for an examination.”

You nodded, taking the note and scanning the brief, neat handwriting. Elain. Waiting for you at the town house today.

Elira watched your expression carefully before tilting her head. “What’s going on?”

You exhaled and leaned against the counter, tapping the note against your palm. “She had a vision last time. But unlike usual, this one caused convulsions.”

Elira’s expression shifted instantly, her usual playful demeanor replaced by concern. “Oh,” she said simply, straightening. “It’s the seer one, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Elain.”

She frowned, rubbing her temple. “Convulsions are bad.”

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s rarely a good sign.”

Elira clicked her tongue, thinking. “Did she say what the vision was about?”

You hesitated.

Yes.

But saying it aloud—admitting that the vision had been about you—felt like opening a door you weren’t ready to walk through.

“She hasn’t shared all the details yet,” you finally said, voice measured. 

Elira studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Just be careful.”

You gave her a reassuring smile, then glanced around the clinic, feeling that familiar pull to stay and work through the growing list of tasks. But you had a promise to keep.

You grabbed your satchel and pushed off the counter. “Let me know if anything urgent comes up. Otherwise, I’ll be back later.”

Elira smirked, crossing her arms. “Sure, sure. Go off, be a real person for once. But if you start slacking too much, I will drag you back here myself.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Duly noted.”

With that, you headed for the town house, the weight of the day settling onto your shoulders—but beneath it, beneath all the uncertainty, a quiet warmth remained.

Because somewhere above the mountains, Azriel was flying.

And tonight, he’d be coming back to you.

The town house was still. A rare, peaceful quiet settled over the space, the kind that only came when the house was nearly empty. You stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you, and let out a slow breath. The air carried the familiar scent of cedar and old books, a faint trace of lavender from the fresh-cut flowers Elain often arranged.

It felt... open. Welcoming in a way few places did.

For years, this house had been a place of gathering, of warmth, of family. And though you had never lived here, never truly claimed it as yours, it still held that same familiarity. Like a place that had always been waiting for you to step inside, to belong.

You glanced up the stairs. Nyx was still asleep, the silence thick enough to tell you that much. The others were all gone—Nesta training, the rest of the Inner Circle in Hewn City. That left only you and Elain.

You made your way through the quiet halls, the soft sound of your steps the only disturbance in the stillness. Reaching Elain’s door, you knocked gently.

A pause. Then, after a moment, her voice carried through. “Come in.”

You pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Elain was seated by the window, a book resting in her lap, her delicate fingers lightly tracing the edges of the pages. Sunlight streamed in, catching the golden hues in her hair, casting a warm glow over her soft features. She was beautiful. It was impossible to deny. No wonder Azriel had fallen for her.

You shoved that thought aside, forcing yourself to focus.

Offering her a soft smile, you spoke gently, “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t look at you immediately, her eyes still fixed on something beyond the window, something far away. But after a moment, she nodded slightly. “I’m fine.”

Not exactly convincing.

You exhaled, moving further into the room. “I’d like to take a look at you. Make sure everything’s alright after your last vision.” You gestured to the bed. “It’ll be easier if you lie down.”

Elain hesitated. Just for a second, but it was enough.

Then, she set her book aside and moved to the bed, sitting stiffly as you pulled a chair closer.

You worked in silence, your hands steady as you checked her pulse, her breathing, running your fingers lightly along the base of her skull to check for tension. She remained mostly still, barely responding, her posture rigid.

“Elain,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone patient, professional. “I need you to talk to me. Answer my questions.”

She gave a small nod but said nothing.

You sighed, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. If she didn’t want to cooperate, that was her problem. You were only trying to help.

“Did you feel anything unusual before the vision started?” you tried again.

A small shake of the head.

“Have you had any more since then?”

A pause. Then, another slight shake.

“Elain—”

“I don’t need a healer,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

You stilled.

Her brown eyes finally met yours, something guarded lurking beneath the softness.

You studied her for a long moment. Then, keeping your voice even, you said, “That’s not for you to decide. If your visions are causing convulsions, that’s something we need to address.”

She looked away. “It was a one-time thing.”

You held back a sigh, your patience thinning. “You don’t know that.”

Another beat of silence.

You didn’t miss the way her fingers curled slightly in the sheets, the tension in her shoulders, the way she was barely holding herself together.

And suddenly, you understood.

It wasn’t you she didn’t want here.

It was the fear. The vulnerability.

Elain Archeron, the one who had spent years trying to carve out something normal, something stable, was losing control over the one thing she had left—her own mind.

Softening your tone, you said, “I’m not here to force you into anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

For a moment, you thought she might let you in, might tell you something real. But then, she only nodded, a practiced, polite nod, and murmured, “I know.”

You watched her for another long moment before exhaling through your nose.

Fine. If she didn’t want help, you weren’t going to force it.

Something shifted in Elain’s expression. The soft, polite mask she had been wearing cracked just enough for something sharper, something venomous, to seep through.

Her brown eyes darkened as she spoke, her voice quiet but cutting.

"Do you actually think you can replace me?"

You stilled.

"For Azriel, I mean," she clarified, tilting her head slightly. "He loves me. He still does. I know that."

You didn’t move, didn’t blink.

Elain’s lips pressed together before she continued, her words deliberate. “He pulled away because of Rhysand—I know that. But you, Y/N, should remember one thing.”

The air in the room felt colder.

"You are going to die soon."

Her words were so matter-of-fact, so absolute, that they sent a chill down your spine. But you didn’t react. You kept your face carefully composed, unreadable.

Elain took your silence as permission to keep going.

"We both saw it," she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her dress. "The moment you will be heartless, dead. And when that happens—when you are nothing but a lifeless body—who do you think Azriel will turn to for comfort?"

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides, but still, you didn’t let it show.

"Don’t get your hopes up," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with something almost triumphant. "He’s only sticking with you until then. After that, you’ll be nothing. No one will remember you, just a forgotten memory lost to time.”

Silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

Slowly, you stood, keeping your expression blank, unreadable. You met her gaze with something colder, something far older than she could comprehend.

Your voice, when you finally spoke, was steady. Controlled.

“I don’t know what it is about your family that makes everyone treat you like a spoiled child,” you said, tilting your head slightly, “but I’m not here to do the same.”

A flicker of something crossed her face—shock, perhaps.

“I don’t know how you were raised,” you continued, stepping away from her bed, “but where I come from, people tend to show some respect to the ones who save their lives.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give her a chance to speak.

"Whatever is going on in that little head of yours," you said, voice cool, “you need to stop.”

She inhaled sharply, as if to protest, but you simply shook your head.

“Grow up, Elain.” Your tone didn’t waver. “I’m twenty times your age. I’ve seen enough girls like you to know that the only thing you sound like right now is a bitter, jealous fool.”

She flinched, but you continued.

“If you want to throw your life away, then fine. But when you collapse in your next vision, don’t expect me to be there to save you.”

You turned for the door.

Elain tried to say something, but you cut her off with one final, emotionless glance over your shoulder.

“And about Azriel?” You smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Like you said—I’ll be too dead to care.”

Then you walked out, leaving her in stunned silence.

Your mind was a battlefield, a relentless storm of thoughts crashing into each other, over and over, like waves against jagged rocks.

She was right.

Elain was right.

You were going to die.

The words echoed in your skull, bouncing off the walls of your mind, multiplying with each breath you took. The air felt heavier, the weight of inevitability pressing down on your chest until it was almost unbearable.

You are going to die soon.

Your fingers dug into the wooden surface of your desk, trying to ground yourself, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t true, that you still had time. But the more you tried to push the thought away, the louder it became.

What if it wasn’t just a vision?

What if it was fate?

What if it was the Mother herself, setting a fixed end for you?

What if—what if everything you had built, everything you had worked for, everyone you had come to care for—what if it was all leading up to nothing? To an end that no one could stop?

You will be heartless.

You shuddered, suddenly hyper-aware of your own heartbeat, the rhythmic drum inside your chest. One day, it would stop. One day, it wouldn’t be there anymore. One day, you wouldn’t be here anymore.

Your breath hitched. The edges of your vision blurred as your hands began to tremble.

You needed air.

You needed out.

Now.

You grabbed your coat with frantic fingers, barely registering Elira’s voice calling after you as you shoved past her.

“Y/N? Are you—”

You didn’t answer. You barely even heard her.

Your feet carried you through the halls, down the stairs. You crashed into one of the younger healers, mumbling an apology you couldn’t even remember seconds later.

The doors to the clinic burst open, and you ran.

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t care.

You ran through the streets of Velaris, past familiar buildings and warm lights, past the scent of fresh bread from the bakeries, past the murmurs of lovers walking hand in hand, past the echoes of laughter spilling from taverns.

None of it reached you.

Your thoughts were screaming too loudly.

You ran until the city disappeared behind you, until the cobbled streets turned into dirt paths, until trees surrounded you on all sides.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs screamed for you to stop, until the weight in your chest became too much to bear.

And when you couldn’t take it anymore—when the world felt like it was closing in, when your breath came in short, desperate gasps—you fell.

Your knees hit the cold, damp earth of a clearing.

The silence of the forest swallowed you whole.

You curled forward, gripping the ground as if it could hold you together. As if it could keep the panic from swallowing you whole.

But it was still there. The truth. The inescapable reality.

You were going to die.

The moment your knees hit the ground, everything shattered.

The world twisted, spinning and turning, the trees around you bending at impossible angles, the sky shifting and warping as if reality itself was breaking apart. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps—too fast, too shallow. Your chest tightened, a crushing weight pressing down on your ribs like they would crack beneath the pressure.

You are going to die.

The words thundered in your mind, over and over again, a merciless mantra that you couldn’t escape.

You are going to die.

And it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just the knowledge of your end—it was the inevitability of it. It was the way everyone else had already started preparing for it.

Azriel.

Azriel, who looked at you with that careful tenderness, with that unreadable depth. Azriel, who held you at night, who kissed you like you were his whole world.

He only pities you.

The voice slithered into your mind, venomous and cruel.

He doesn’t love you. Not like you love him.

You clutched at your chest, fingers digging into the fabric of your coat as your heart pounded against your ribs, too fast, too wild.

He will go back to her.

A choked sob left your throat.

He was always meant to be with her. He loves her. He will always love her. And when you’re gone, when your body is cold and forgotten, he will go back to her. Back to what was meant to be.

The voices were multiplying now, a cacophony of whispers, of taunts, of truths you had tried so hard to ignore.

None of them truly love you.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, gripping the damp earth beneath you.

Rhys and Feyre? They are kind, yes. But it is only pity.

Your breathing hitched, your throat tightening as your fingers curled deeper into the soil.

Cassian, Mor, Amren? You are just another friend to them. Someone temporary. Someone to mourn for a brief moment before they move on.

No one ever truly loved you.

A violent shudder wracked your body, the weight of the words pressing down on you, suffocating you.

Look at you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms.

Who would ever want someone like you?

The breath you dragged in was sharp, broken, as if your own body was fighting against you.

Your parents left you.

Your stomach twisted painfully, nausea rising in your throat.

No one ever adopted you. No one ever wanted you. Not then, not now.

Your fingers dug into the ground so hard that your nails scraped against stone, the sharp pain barely registering against the flood of voices in your mind.

Even the Mother made a joke out of you.

A ragged sob tore through you.

She brought you back only to throw you away again.

Your body trembled, every breath a struggle, every thought a war you couldn’t win. You were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of it all.

Maybe… maybe it would be easier to stop fighting.

Maybe it would be better to just… let it happen.

To accept what was coming. To let go.

Because what was the point?

What was the point of clinging to a life that had already been written off?

You clutched at your chest, gasping for air, for something, for anything to pull you out of this spiral. But there was nothing.

Just you.

Just you and the knowledge that this would end.

That you would end.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The moment Azriel's arms wrapped around you, it was as if the world finally stopped crumbling.

You barely registered his presence at first, the overwhelming noise in your mind too deafening, too consuming. But his warmth—his touch—broke through.

“Hey, hey, Y/N,” his voice was urgent, but gentle, his grip firm as he held you against his chest. “Calm down, love. Just breathe.”

But you couldn’t. Nothing made sense. Your hands flew to your ears, trying to block out the voices, the relentless, merciless voices that wouldn’t stop whispering in your head.

Azriel’s hands came up to yours, gently but insistently pulling them away. “Look at me,” he urged, his golden eyes searching yours. “Just look at me, Y/N.”

You tried. Mother above, you tried. But your vision blurred with tears, your breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, and you could barely even comprehend how he was here—why he was here.

How did he find you?

Why had he come?

Your body shook violently, the last remnants of the panic attack wracking through you, but Azriel held you through it. Unmoving. Steady. His arms wound tighter around you, his warmth bleeding into your freezing skin.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your hair, his voice an anchor in the storm. “In… and out.”

He breathed in deeply, exaggerating the rise and fall of his chest. You tried to follow, but your breaths still hitched, your body still trembling.

But he didn’t let go.

He rocked you slightly, his hands running up and down your back, brushing away your tears as they continued to fall. His fingers found your face, tilting your chin up to him, his thumbs swiping the wet trails from your cheeks.

“Shhh, love,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re safe. You’re here. Just stay with me.”

The last of your ragged breaths shuddered out of you, and you finally—finally—managed to look at him.

Azriel’s face was tight with worry, his brows furrowed, his golden eyes dark and searching.

“What happened?” he murmured, his voice so soft, as if one wrong move would break you apart again. “Talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but they lodged in your throat, thick and unbearable. Your lips trembled, your chest still rising and falling too fast.

Azriel’s hands cupped your face again, his thumb tracing your cheek. Then, gently, he kissed you—just a soft, featherlight press of his lips against your damp skin. Another on your forehead. Then your temple.

He was showing you love.

You weren’t sure when you started crying again, but it was different this time—less panicked, more relieved.

Azriel rested his forehead against yours, his own breathing uneven, his hands still holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, his voice raw. “What’s going on?”

And this time, you could answer.

From the moment they had returned from the Court of Nightmares, Azriel felt it.

That gnawing sense of unease, like a shadow curling deep in his chest, whispering that something was wrong.

The mission had been exhausting—more so than usual. Politics with Keir and his wretched court always drained him, but today, today, all he wanted was to be with you. To bury himself in your presence, to hold you in his arms and let your voice fill the spaces in him that had long been hollow. It didn’t matter what you talked about—whether it was serious or something as mundane as the best way to brew tea. Whatever it was, you—your voice, your laughter, your warmth—felt like heaven.

Maybe that was why he had finally asked.

On the way back to Velaris, he had turned to Rhysand, voice quieter than usual. “I need a few days” he said. “Out of Velaris.”

Rhys barely reacted, his lips twitching. Knowing why Azriel wanted to leave so bad. “Do you think a few days will be enough for you two?”

Azriel had chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. A week, then.”

It felt ridiculous, almost selfish, to ask for time away when the war was looming closer by the day. But he needed it. Needed time with you, time to figure things out. To figure you out. And, if he was being honest, to figure himself out, too.

Still, the momentary ease of their conversation did nothing to quell the growing dread in his chest. The feeling only got worse as they reached Velaris, a clawing urgency building inside him.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t even wait for the others to disperse before he turned on his heel and made his way to the clinic. His steps were fast, purposeful, shadows slithering around him, restless.

Then he saw Elira.

She stood near the entrance, looking stunned—almost frozen in place. Her eyes flickered to him, and she exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath.

“If you’re looking for Y/N,” she said, still slightly breathless, “she just left. Running.”

Azriel frowned, his heart slamming once in his chest. “Running?”

“I—” Elira hesitated, glancing toward the doors as if trying to make sense of what she had just seen. “I’ve never seen her like that. She just bolted. And to be honest, she’s been off ever since she got back from her visit with the High Lady’s sister.”

Elain.

A sharp pang of something cold flashed through him.

Then—

The panic hit him like a physical force.

Not his. Yours.

His breath caught as the bond roared to life, a wave of pure, suffocating terror slamming into him.

He didn’t hesitate.

Azriel ran.

He followed the thread between you, through the streets of Velaris, through the winding paths leading out of the city. His wings flared behind him as he took to the air, scanning, searching—until he found you.

Collapsed in a clearing, shaking violently, your breaths ragged, your hands clutching at your head as if trying to silence something only you could hear.

Azriel dropped to the ground without thinking, without breathing.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice sharp with urgency. You didn’t react, barely seemed to register his presence.

Then he was there, grabbing you, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey, hey—” His voice softened, but his grip did not. He held you, firm, grounding, his heart hammering in his chest. “Y/N, look at me.”

Nothing.

Your entire body was trembling, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Your hands flew up to your ears, fingers digging in as if you were trying to block something out.

His own panic flared, but he shoved it down, focusing only on you.

He shifted, wrapping himself fully around you, cradling you against him. His hands stroked your back, firm but gentle, his head dipping close to yours.

“Shhh, love,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me.”

You barely responded, your body still shaking violently, your nails digging into his leathers.

“Breathe, Y/N.” His voice was lower now, softer. He inhaled deeply, exaggerating the movement, hoping you would follow. “In… and out. With me.”

His thumb traced slow circles against your skin, his wings curling protectively around you as he rocked you slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, trying to draw you back, trying to pull you out of whatever hell had seized you.

“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking.

And then—

A breath.

A deep, shuddering inhale.

Your body still trembled, but the suffocating tension began to ease, the shallow gasps turning into something slower, steadier.

You blinked up at him, your eyes glazed over with panic, but you were there.

Azriel exhaled shakily, his hands moving to cradle your face. He wiped away the fresh tears that streaked your cheeks, his heart aching at the sight of them.

He kissed them away, soft, reverent presses of his lips against your damp skin.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, voice raw with emotion. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumbs brushing slow, comforting strokes along your jaw.

“What’s going on?”

Your breath hitched as you tried to speak, to put words to the chaos swirling inside you. But everything—everything—felt like too much.

Your hands clenched against Azriel’s chest, your fingers curling into the familiar fabric of his leathers as if holding onto him could anchor you. Your breath came fast again, shallow.

“I—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Everything just… it fell too much. I couldn't breathe, I— I—”

The panic started rising again, clawing its way up from the pit of your stomach, threatening to consume you whole. The words tangled in your throat, your chest tightening all over again.

Azriel felt it before he even saw it.

Your breathing hitched, your body tensed, and his arms tightened around you immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice steady, soothing. “Don’t rush. You don’t have to hurry. It’s fine.”

He cupped your face gently, his scarred hands warm against your skin, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall silently.

“Breathe, love,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

And then—

Azriel kissed you.

It wasn’t desperate or frantic, but firm. A grounding touch, meant to pull you from the edge of the abyss. His lips were warm, steady, patient. He kissed you with a quiet kind of intensity, as if willing you to feel every ounce of reassurance, every piece of him holding you together.

His hands moved slowly, one slipping to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair, while the other remained firm at your waist, keeping you here. With him.

Your entire body softened against him, the tension in your limbs slowly melting away as you inhaled him. The scent of night-chilled wind, cedar, and something uniquely Azriel filled your senses, grounding you, tethering you.

You clutched at him, not out of desperation, but because his presence, his warmth, him—Azriel—was the only thing in this moment that felt real.

The moment the kiss broke, he kept you close, resting his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the crisp air.

His golden eyes searched yours, still laced with worry but filled with something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve always got you.”

Azriel brushed his thumb gently over your cheek, his gaze unwavering as he spoke, his voice calm and steady.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he murmured. “Not until you’re ready. And even if you never are, that’s okay too.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight.

“The past weeks have been insane for you, Y/N. It’s normal that at some point, you can’t keep hiding everything anymore.” His golden eyes softened, his expression unreadable yet filled with so much understanding it made your chest ache.

“Maybe you should take a break.” He exhaled, his hand sliding down your arm until he could lace his fingers with yours. “Maybe we should take a break.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

You shook your head, your heart racing. “But Az… the war, the people, the clinic— I can’t leave like that, we can’t just leave—”

Azriel squeezed your hand, cutting you off gently. “For once, Y/N, stop thinking about everyone else and think about yourself.” His voice remained calm, composed, reassuring. “Because it’s killing you. Slowly, quietly, piece by piece. And I won’t just stand by and watch it happen.”

The truth of his words hit you like a crashing wave.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t demanding.

But he was right.

You had been holding everything in for too long, carrying too much. You were exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. And yet, you had convinced yourself that if you just kept going, if you just kept working, it would all be fine.

But it wasn’t fine.

And it hadn’t been for a long time.

Azriel’s unwavering presence, his certainty, the way he was looking at you now as if he would do anything to pull you from this downward spiral—it finally made something inside of you crack.

You took a shaky breath, blinking away the last remnants of tears before meeting his gaze.

Finally, you nodded.

“Fine,” you whispered. “Let’s go. The both of us. Far away.”

Azriel’s lips parted slightly, almost surprised at your agreement, but then—he smiled. A real smile, rare and breathtaking. And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss of urgency or desperation. It was a promise.

A promise of escape. A promise of time. A promise of you and him, away from everything that had been weighing you down.

As you walked back through the streets of Velaris, Azriel kept you close, his arm draped securely over your shoulders, his wing shifting subtly to shield you from the cool evening breeze. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady weight of his presence—it was grounding, calming, as if the past hour hadn’t happened at all.

Your hand remained in his, your fingers entwined as you both moved through the city in silence. No words were needed. He knew. He felt it. Just as you felt the unspoken comfort he was offering.

When you stepped back into the clinic, Elira was already waiting. The moment she saw you, relief flickered in her features, but it was quickly replaced with something softer as she stepped forward, pulling you into a tight hug.

You let out a small breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Elira pulled back just enough to look at you, her expression filled with something between fondness and exasperation.

Azriel, still standing beside you, spoke up before she could respond. “We’ll be gone for a week,” he informed her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Elira’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her gaze sharp yet knowing.

You exhaled, nodding. “I’m leaving the clinic in your hands, along with the paperwork. I made sure to—”

“You’re not about to list out every responsibility before you leave,” Elira cut in, placing both hands on your shoulders.

You blinked in surprise.

Her gaze softened. “Y/N, we’ve got it handled. You need this. And if there’s anything urgent, Madja is still in town. But please, just rest.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you managed a nod. “Thank you, Eli.”

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before stepping back, offering you a small smirk. “Now go before you change your mind.”

You let out a breath of laughter, hugging her quickly before stepping away, Azriel’s hand finding yours once more.

The moment you were outside, Azriel turned to you, his gaze searching. You barely had time to process before he was kissing you—slow, deep, a quiet confirmation that you were his to care for.

You melted into him, letting yourself be held, letting yourself take the comfort for once instead of offering it.

And then, before you could think too much, before your mind could try to convince you otherwise—

Wind whipped around you as Azriel pulls you against his chest before winnowing the both you out of Velaris. 

The familiar pull of winnowing faded as your feet touched solid ground, the crisp mountain air immediately wrapping around you. You shivered slightly, not from the cold but from the sheer change in atmosphere—the quiet, the stillness, the peace that settled over you the moment you arrived.

Before you, nestled between towering pine trees and overlooking a breathtaking view of the Night Court’s vast mountain ranges, stood a cabin. The structure itself was modest, but it exuded warmth, comfort—sanctuary. The soft glow of faelights flickered inside, the wooden walls standing strong against the whispering winds. Snow dusted the rooftop, the steps leading to the front door barely visible beneath the pristine white.

You exhaled, breath visible in the crisp air, and turned slowly to take it all in. The mountains stretched endlessly beyond the cabin, their peaks kissed by the last lingering hues of sunset, fading into a velvety night. The stars had begun their slow emergence, blinking awake one by one, their glow reflected on the frozen lake in the distance. It was silent here—so utterly still that it felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you behind.

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself to this moment. You looked up at him, finding his gaze already on you. Something in his expression softened as he watched you take in the sight, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your shoulders seemed to lose some of their ever-present tension.

“You like it?” His voice was low, hesitant in a way that made your heart ache.

You turned back to the cabin, then to the vast, endless sky above, to the mountains that held secrets older than time. Likewasn’t the right word.

“It’s breathtaking,” you murmured.

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, a silent understanding passing between you. No more words were needed.

This was what he had wanted for you—for both of you. A place away from the weight of war, of responsibilities, of everything that had nearly broken you. A place to breathe, to simply be.

He led you toward the cabin, his presence steady beside you. And as you stepped onto the wooden porch, a thought settled deep in your chest—

For the first time in centuries, maybe even forever, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You were finally choosing yourself.

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hi there! not sure if you’re still taking requests but this idea popped into my head after a rough day.

could I pls request reader having a panic attack after a bad day and quinn calming reader down by holding her and putting her back to his chest and telling her to match his breathing?

Always taking them, sweets! Thank you~🩷 I hope this helps.🩷

You couldn't remember getting home -- the drive, getting up to Quinn's apartment, none of it. Your hands had been shaking since you had left work, making it hard to do anything but hold onto the steering wheel. You hadn't even been able to text Quinn that you were leaving, because you couldn't hit the right buttons. Even the auto-correct was struggling. You would have called him, but you knew that as soon as you heard his voice, you would have started crying instantly. The day had just been too heavy.

It felt like ten minutes before you were able to get your key in the lock. It had surprised Quinn to see you walk through the door, as he had been expecting your usual going home text prior to you getting in. Though, there you were, and he instantly knew something was off. He quickly got up off of the sofa and made his way over to you. As soon as you were inside, it was like the internal floodgates had opened, and everything you had been trying to contain just let loose.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Quinn's expression was heavily pained as he reached out for you. "I didn't get your message."

You noticed how tight your chest was right before you went to reply to him. Getting complete breaths was proving so difficult, the more you stood there, the more you started to gasp for air.

"Shh, you're alright. Can you tell me what's wrong? Can you talk to me?" Your panic was starting to transfer to Quinn. His brows were pulled in so tightly; his eyes expressed nothing but deep worry. He didn't know what was wrong or what had happened to you.

You just shook your head; you couldn't speak. He wrapped his arms around you softly and he could feel your body tremble against his. Quinn knew about your panic attacks and had helped you get over several before this one, but it was a first that you had come home without a word or warning that you were struggling with something.

"It's okay, baby. You're safe," he hushed, his fingers brushing through your hair. "Come on, let's sit down, okay?"

He had to keep an arm around your waist for fear of your wobbly legs giving out and he didn't want you to fall. There wasn't but fifteen feet from the front door to the sofa, but it had felt like miles. Eventually, the two of you sat down, with Quinn noticing how badly you were struggling. Your hands were balled up around the hems of your hoodie sleeves, your knuckles white from the pressure. Carefully, he touched your hands and tried to pry your fingers loose, but you weren't budging. Your breathing had quickened -- the sharp wheezing as you tried to get air into your lungs seemed to echo in the open room.

"Come here, sweetheart," Quinn cooed, his hands trailing down your arms. "Lean up against me, let me hold you."

You were running on auto-pilot, and a drunk one at that. Quinn would have to guide you as you attempted to pivot while you sat there. Your body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but eventually you got turned around and before you knew it, you were wrapped tightly in his arms, his chest against your back. He felt so warm; his body heat quickly transferring to give you the slightest start of comfort.

"Listen to my voice, okay? Just close your eyes and relax as much as you can."

It was no luck. Trying to relax had only made you go into survival mode. Trying to let go had triggered something that caused your body to tense -- a complete opposite effect. Quinn's arms snaked around you, locking around your stomach like you were about to slip out of his hold.

"You're okay, Y|N. You're okay." Quinn laid his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling against you. "It's just us here. Whatever happened is over. It's just us now."

You were trying to focus on the feeling of his body next to yours, his breath on your skin, anything to get your mind off of repeatedly smashing the panic button. All you could do was replay what had caused the attack in the first place.

"You've gotta breathe, sweetheart," he stressed, one of his hands pressing against your stomach. "Here, I'm going to help you. Breathe with me, okay?"

Your hearing was getting muffled, but you caught enough of Quinn's words to understand what he wanted you to do. At first you couldn't do much of anything than continue to hyperventilate. Quinn would have to talk you down again, but it didn't appear to bother or annoy him.

"C'mon, inhale with me, 1-- 2-- 3--," he whispered. "As slow as you can, okay?"

It would take a few minutes, but eventually you'd come down off the edge bit by bit. You'd still be breathing sharply, but at least you were getting more air into your lungs than before, and you were no longer feeling so lightheaded. Quinn's hold on you never lessened and you found yourself fully focused on the rise and fall of his chest against your back. The whole time, he never had stopped talking to you.

"I won't let you go until you're ready. You let me know when you're ready. There's no rush."

"I'm sorry," your voice cracked, finally finding the ability to say a couple words.

Quinn wasn't about to have you apologize for anything. "You've done nothing wrong. These things happen. I'm just glad I was here to help you. You shouldn't have to ever go through this alone."

You'd lay your head against his gently as his lips placed a kiss behind your ear. With the attack having passed, it left you feeling completely drained and crashing. Your eyes would fall closed as your body finally released the last final ounces of tension.

"Just rest, babe. I'm not going anywhere."

He would continue to talk to you until you drifted off to sleep, still leaning up against him. Eventually, Quinn would move you carefully so to lift you into his arms and he would carry you off to the bedroom, where he knew you'd be more comfortable. Even though you were asleep, he wouldn't leave your side. He'd stay right beside you until you woke up and not a minute before.