#I know this room I’ve walked this floor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonsdietcoke · 19 hours ago

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Get Gone - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 3 of my mini series love ridden

Warnings: physical abuse, DV, implied NONCON, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and intense depictions of psychological distress. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary: “How many times do I have to say To get away, get gone?” A late-night confrontation unearths buried truths, forcing you to confront the cost of her own survival. loosely inspired by Get Gone-Fiona Apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: yall I’m sorry this took so long, I have work & school during the week and low-key got lazy lol but it’s finally here!!! Lmk if yall fw it. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!! <3

…………………….

The room feels smaller now, the air pressing down on you like it’s alive, like it’s conspiring with him. Every second ticks by painfully, loud and sharp in your ears. You swear you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“If you walk out that door,” Su-bong says again, his voice low, deliberate, “you’ll never see me again.”

There’s no anger in his tone, no malice. Just a quiet certainty that chills you to your core. It should feel like a relief—like a clean break. But instead, it feels like a threat wrapped in a promise.

Your hands tighten around your phone. Ji-hye’s name still flashes on the screen like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grab.

“Why would you say that?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s the truth,” he says, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watches you. “I don’t want to play games anymore, Y/N. I can’t do this halfway. Either you stay, and we figure this out together, or you leave… and that’s it.”

The simplicity of his words makes them hit harder. They slice through you like glass, leaving behind wounds you can’t see but can feel.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

His lips curl into a faint, humorless smile. “Don’t I?”

You feel like the floor is shifting beneath you, like the ground you’ve been standing on has suddenly turned to quicksand. “You’re just saying that to scare me,” you accuse.

“Am I?” His voice is calm, measured, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “You think I don’t mean it, but deep down, you know I do. You know I’ve always meant it when it comes to you.”

“Stop,” you say, your voice cracking.

“Why?” he presses, taking a slow step toward you. He’s close now, too close, his presence overwhelming. “Because you don’t want to hear it? Because you don’t want to admit that it scares you?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you shoot back, even though your heart is hammering in your chest.

“No,” he says softly, almost thoughtfully. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of what happens if you leave. You’re scared because you don’t know who you are without me.”

Your stomach twists violently. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but that only makes it worse. “You don’t want to leave, Y/N. You’re just trying to convince yourself that you do. But we both know the truth. You’ve always been afraid of being alone.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” His words are quiet, but they land with the force of a wrecking ball. “You stayed with me for two years, even when you knew you should’ve left. You forgave me for things most people wouldn’t. And why? Because you didn’t want to be alone. Because you don’t know how to be alone.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You don’t get to do this,” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t get to make this about me. You’re the one who—”

“I’m not making this about you,” he interrupts, his tone sharpening. “I’m just telling you the truth. You don’t want to hear it, fine. But don’t act like I’m the bad guy for saying it.”

You let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you struggle to hold yourself together. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

He scoffs, the sound low and bitter. “I know everything about you, Y/N. I know how you think, how you feel. I know you better than anyone, including Ji-hye.”

The mention of her name sends a jolt through you, sharp and electric.

“that’s who you’ve been talking to, right?” he asks, his voice dropping into something quieter, more dangerous. “Ji-hye?”

Your throat tightens. “She’s my friend. Of course I’ve been talking to her.”

“About me?” His question is calm, but there’s something venomous just beneath the surface.

“She’s my best friend,” you say, lifting your chin even though your hands are shaking. “I tell her everything.”

His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought what we had was private. I guess I was wrong.”

“Private?” you repeat, your voice rising. “You’ve been calling me nonstop for weeks, leaving voicemails threatening to kill yourself, and now you want to talk about privacy?”

“That’s different,” he snaps, his control slipping for the first time.

“Is it?” you shoot back, your voice cracking. “Because it feels a hell of a lot like you’re just mad that I told someone the truth about you.”

He steps closer, and you instinctively take a step back. “You’re the one dragging her into this,” he says, his voice low but cutting. “You’re the one making this worse.”

“She’s worried about me!” you shout, your emotions spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “She’s worried because she knows what you’re like!”

His expression darkens, his gaze boring into yours. “She doesn’t know you like I do. She doesn’t know what you’re like when you’re falling apart. When you’re scared. When you don’t know what you want.”

“I know what I want!” you yell, your voice breaking. “I want to leave!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Then go,” he says, his tone soft but razor-sharp. “But don’t come back. Because if you walk out that door, Y/N…” He pauses, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “I promise you’ll never see me again.”

Your chest tightens, panic clawing at your insides. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m done,” he says simply. “I’m done chasing you, done begging you to talk to me, done waiting for you to figure out what you want.”

You stare at him, your mind racing, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen, Ji-hye’s name flashing like a lifeline.

“She’s outside,” you say, your voice trembling. “She’s waiting for me.”

He doesn’t react at first. And then—

“Of course she is.” His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “You always need someone to save you, don’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap, the sting radiating through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Go ahead,” he says, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door. “Run to her. But don’t pretend you’re doing this for you. We both know you don’t have the guts to face this on your own.”

Your legs feel like lead, your heart pounding as you take a shaky step toward the door.

And as you reach for the handle, his voice cuts through the silence one last time.

“When you realize I’m right,” he says softly, “don’t bother coming back.”

You don’t look at him as you open the door.

But you feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car door shuts behind you with a heavy, final thud.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your own ragged breathing, loud and uneven in the stillness of the cabin. The air inside feels thick, stagnant. You reach for your seatbelt with trembling hands, but the buckle slips from your fingers twice before you manage to click it into place.

Ji-hye doesn’t start the car. She doesn’t even move.

Her knuckles are wrapped tight around the steering wheel, her nails biting into the leather. The dim glow of the dashboard casts her face in sharp relief — her set jaw, the hard line of her mouth, the slight tremble in her lips she’s fighting to keep still.

Her eyes flicker toward you, then away, like she can’t bear to look too long. “You okay?” she asks, her voice low, strained. The question sounds more like an accusation than concern.

You nod — a jerky, unconvincing motion that does nothing to quiet the storm inside you. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, the tendons standing out in sharp relief. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just…” You press your hands to your lap, flattening them against the fabric of your dress to keep them from shaking. “I just want to go home.”

She exhales sharply, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. But she doesn’t start the car.

“What happened, Y/N?” Her voice is still low, but there’s an edge to it now — a tremor beneath the surface, like she’s holding herself back from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking the truth out of you.

“Nothing happened,” you say too quickly, too defensively.

Ji-hye’s head snaps toward you, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You flinch at the sharpness in her tone, the anger laced through it, though you know it’s not directed at you.

“I…” You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t know.”

Her jaw tightens. She turns back to the steering wheel, but her fingers twitch against it, like she’s holding herself back from punching something. “What the fuck does that mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t remember!” The words explode out of you before you can stop them, loud and jagged and filled with panic. Your chest heaves, and your eyes sting as the tears start to well up again. “I don’t fucking remember, Ji-hye! I blacked out, okay? I don’t know what happened!”

She goes still, completely still, her hands frozen on the wheel. Slowly, she turns to look at you again. “You don’t remember anything?”

Your breath hitches, and you shake your head.

Her gaze sharpens, her eyes scanning your face like she’s searching for the pieces of a puzzle you can’t see. “But you woke up there,” she says finally, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “At his place.”

You nod, and the weight of the admission makes your chest tighten, makes the shame press down harder.

Ji-hye leans back in her seat, dragging a hand through her hair. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath.

Her reaction makes your stomach churn. “I—” Your voice cracks, and you have to swallow hard before you can speak again. “I don’t know if anything happened.”

Her head snaps toward you again, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know,” you whisper, the tears spilling over now, hot and relentless. You clutch at your dress, twisting the fabric in your fists as the words come tumbling out. “I don’t remember getting there. I don’t remember going to bed. But when I woke up—” Your voice falters, your breath hitching painfully. “There were bruises, Ji-hye. On my thighs. And my underwear was—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

The silence in the car is suffocating.

Ji-hye doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and when you finally glance at her, her expression makes your chest tighten even more. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes are dark, her gaze fixed on the dashboard like she’s barely holding herself together.

“You think he—” She can’t even finish the question.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “I don’t know, Ji-hye. But what if he didn’t? What if I’m just overthinking it? What if I’m—”

“Stop.” Her voice cuts through your rambling, sharp and commanding. She turns to you fully now, her gaze locking onto yours. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“But—”

“There is no ‘but,’” she snaps, her voice rising. “You were drunk, Y/N. If he did anything — anything — that you didn’t consent to, it’s not your fault. Do you understand me?”

You can’t answer. Your throat is too tight, your chest heaving as you fight to keep yourself together.

Ji-hye exhales sharply, dragging her hands through her hair again. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, her voice trembling now. “That fucking piece of shit.”

Her words make your stomach twist, the nausea bubbling up again. “What if I—”

“You didn’t do anything,” she cuts you off again, her voice softening but no less firm. “Do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one—” She stops herself, her voice breaking on the last word. She clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable.

Finally, Ji-hye starts the car, but she doesn’t drive. The engine hums beneath you, the only sound in the suffocating quiet.

“What do I do?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Ji-hye’s hands tighten on the wheel. She stares straight ahead, her gaze burning with quiet fury. “You don’t go back to him,” she says, her voice steady now. “Not ever. I don’t care what it takes, Y/N. He doesn’t get to be a part of your life anymore.”

You swallow hard, her words cutting through the fog in your mind like a lifeline.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ji-hye says, her voice softening. She reaches over, her hand resting on yours. Her grip is warm and steady, grounding you. “I promise. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

The weight of her words sinks into you, anchoring you to the moment. You don’t know what comes next. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to put the pieces of last night together.

But for now, you let her words steady you. For now, you let yourself believe her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air smells like caramelized sugar and charred meat. Smoke curls from food stalls, the sizzle of grilling pork belly mingling with the faintly sweet aroma of tteokbokki simmering in spicy sauce. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s laughing, the sound light and bright, cutting through the low hum of the crowd.

Ji-hye’s arm loops through yours, her grip warm and grounding as she steers you through the maze of vendors. It’s loud here, chaotic in the way only street markets can be, but you’ve missed it—this pulsing rhythm of life, the neon lights reflecting off puddles of rainwater on the pavement, the voices overlapping as vendors shout over one another to hawk their food.

“Y/N,” Ji-hye says, tilting her head toward a stall where skewers of fish cake glisten in the warm glow of a heat lamp. “You want one?”

You start to shake your head, but the look on her face stops you. She’s been trying so hard to pull you out of your own head, to make you laugh, to make you eat.

“Sure,” you say. Your voice feels foreign, stiff and distant, but Ji-hye beams anyway.

She orders two skewers, handing one to you before taking a bite of her own. “This is the best part about winter,” she says, her words muffled around a mouthful of food. “I swear I could eat eomuk every single day.”

You take a bite, the broth-soaked fish cake warm and savory on your tongue. It’s good—comforting, even—but it doesn’t reach the hollow ache in your chest.

Ji-hye is still talking, something about the new club opening next weekend, but her voice fades into the background as your gaze snags on something across the street.

Purple hair.

Your breath catches in your throat, the skewer trembling slightly in your hand. It’s not him—it’s a girl, her hair cropped short and spiked, her face unfamiliar—but your body doesn’t know the difference.

Your heart is racing, the world around you narrowing to a pinpoint. The noise of the market fades, replaced by the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

“Y/N?” Ji-hye’s voice cuts through the haze, her hand on your arm.

You blink, your chest heaving as you drag your gaze away from the girl. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Her brow furrows, concern etched into every line of her face.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a shaky smile. “I just—thought I saw someone I knew.”

Her lips press together, like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she squeezes your arm and changes the subject, dragging you to the next stall.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You smile when Ji-hye laughs, nod when she talks, but your mind is elsewhere. Your skin feels too tight, your senses stretched thin. Every shout from a vendor, every gust of cigarette smoke, every glimpse of purple in the crowd sends your heart skittering in your chest.

When you finally part ways with Ji-hye, your cheeks ache from forcing smiles, and your stomach churns with the weight of pretending.

The walk home is quiet. The market’s noise fades into the background as you leave it behind, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Your apartment building looms ahead, its shadow stretching long and dark across the street.

You reach the door, your fingers trembling slightly as you punch in the code. The lock beeps, the door clicking open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you like a blanket.

Safe.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them by the door. The silence is heavy, pressing, but it’s better than the noise. Better than the chaos.

You make your way to the bathroom, the tiles cold under your bare feet. The fluorescent light flickers to life, casting your reflection in sharp relief.

You look… tired.

But not the same kind of tired you were before. It’s different now—less hollow, less fragile. Still frayed around the edges, but stitched together enough to pass.

You wash your face, the cool water shocking against your skin. Your movements are slow, methodical, each step of your routine grounding you just a little more.

The week since you left Su-bong’s apartment has been a blur.

You’ve thrown yourself into small, safe routines: going to work, meeting Ji-hye for meals, scrolling aimlessly through your phone until sleep overtakes you. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the questions.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’re breathing again. Slowly. Unevenly. But breathing.

Ji-hye says you look better. Healthier.

You believe her, mostly. Even though you still jump at sudden noises. Even though crowds make your chest feel tight. Even though you sometimes find yourself scanning unfamiliar faces for someone who isn’t there.

The clock reads 12:03 AM when you finally collapse onto the couch, a mug of tea cooling in your hands.

You’ve only just started to relax when the knock comes.

At first, you think you imagined it.

You weren’t expecting anyone this late.

Then it comes again. Louder this time.

You freeze.

Another knock.

“Y/N.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him.

No. No, this isn’t possible. He doesn’t even know where you live.

You moved after the breakup. You didn’t tell anyone except Ji-hye.

So how the fuck does he know?

Your chest tightens, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you stare at the door.

Another knock.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.”

His voice is slurred, thick with alcohol or something stronger.

“I just want to talk. Please.”

Your fingers dig into the couch cushion, your nails scraping against the fabric.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, the words cracking in his throat. “I shouldn’t have said those things. You know I didn’t mean them.”

The lump in your throat grows heavier, your stomach twisting violently.

“Don’t ignore me.” His tone shifts, harder now. “I can see the lights are on.”

Your pulse roars in your ears. You grab your phone from the coffee table, your hands trembling as you scroll to Ji-hye’s name.

The knocking stops, but his voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers freeze.

“Just open the door, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a lead blanket.

“I need to see you.”

No.

“You’re not being fair, you know that? After everything we’ve been through…”

You press the phone to your chest, your other hand gripping the armrest so tightly your knuckles ache.

“Do you really want me to cause a scene?” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but the threat is clear beneath it. “Your neighbors don’t need to hear this, do they?”

The knot in your chest tightens, fear and anger twisting together into something sharp and unbearable.

“Come on,” he says again, his voice breaking slightly. “Please. I just… I just need to talk to you.”

The silence stretches, your own breathing ragged in the quiet.

Then, a softer knock.

“I’ll leave if you just talk to me,” he says. “I swear.”

You close your eyes, your stomach churning violently.

You don’t want to open the door.

You don’t want to see him.

But you know Su-bong.

You know how loud he can get when he doesn’t get his way.

And it’s late. Your neighbors are probably asleep.

You take a shaky breath, your body trembling as you rise to your feet.

The floor feels unsteady beneath you as you make your way to the door, every step heavier than the last.

Your fingers tremble as you unlock the deadbolt, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.

You open the door just a crack, your body blocking the gap.

And there he is.

His hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled and half-untucked. His eyes are bloodshot, his pupils blown wide. The faint smell of alcohol wafts off him, mixing with the cloying scent of his cheap cologne.

But it’s his expression that makes your stomach drop.

The desperation in his eyes.

The anger lurking just beneath it.

“Y/N.”

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, soft and broken.

You grip the doorframe, your nails digging into the wood. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

“I want to talk.” He shifts his weight, his hands twitching at his sides. “That’s all. Just… just talk to me.”

The second you crack the door an inch more, you regret it.

It’s instinctive, the way you step back as he pushes forward, brushing past you into the apartment like it’s his. Like there aren’t layers of pain, distance, and boundaries between you now.

“Su-bong, wait—”

“I’m not waiting,” he says, his voice low, a slur of alcohol softening the edges. “Not after you’ve been ignoring me for a week.”

He’s already halfway to the couch. The door is still open, the cold night air seeping in as you stand frozen, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe like it might ground you.

He turns back to glance at you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of your apartment. “You’re going to leave it open?”

You blink, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, reluctantly, you close the door.

The sound of the lock clicking into place feels like a nail in your coffin.

When you turn back, he’s sitting on your couch, slouched like he’s settling in for a long stay. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands clasped together loosely, but there’s nothing casual about the way his gaze locks onto you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” His voice carries a hint of something sharp, but his eyes stay soft, almost sad. “I didn’t even know where to find you, Y/N. Do you have any idea what that felt like?”

You stay near the door, keeping as much distance as you can, your pulse roaring in your ears. “How did you even—”

“How did I find you?” He cuts you off, leaning back into the couch like he owns it, like it’s still the one you used to share. “I have my ways.”

Your stomach churns. The vagueness in his tone makes your skin crawl. “What do you want, Su-bong?”

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “What do I want? I want to know why you blocked me.”

His words hit like a slap, the audacity of them stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His gaze sharpens, the softness in his eyes hardening. “You didn’t even let me explain, Y/N. You just—what? Cut me out? Pretend I don’t exist?”

“I had to,” you say, your voice trembling. “You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Because I needed you!” The words burst out of him, loud and raw, echoing in the quiet apartment. “I didn’t know where else to go! I didn’t know what else to do!”

Your throat tightens, your chest heaving as you fight to keep your composure. “That’s not my problem anymore, Su-bong.”

He flinches, just slightly, but the hurt in his eyes is quickly replaced by something sharper. “You really think you can just shut me out like that? Like I don’t matter?”

“I never said you don’t matter,” you whisper. “I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?” he demands, standing suddenly. The movement makes you instinctively take a step back, your fingers brushing against the wall behind you.

“This.” You gesture between the two of you, your voice cracking. “You calling me nonstop. Showing up here. Saying things you can’t take back. I couldn’t—” Your voice falters, breaking on the words. “I couldn’t keep letting you drag me down with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Drag you down?” he repeats, his tone quiet but venomous.

You press yourself harder against the wall, your palms flat against the cool surface. “You know what I mean.”

He takes a slow step toward you, and your stomach twists violently. “No,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t think I do.”

“Su-bong, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just leave.”

He stops, just a few feet away from you now. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your breath hitches, your chest tightening painfully. “Get what?”

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his tone softening. “You’re scared because you don’t know what you’re doing without me.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Yes, it is.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. “You’ve always been scared of being alone, Y/N. That’s why you stayed with me for so long, even when you knew you shouldn’t.”

Your nails dig into the wall behind you, the sharp pain grounding you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice softens, but it only makes the words hit harder. “You blocked me because you couldn’t handle it. Not because you’re over me. Not because you’re moving on. But because you’re scared of facing me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, your chest heaving. “That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes searching yours. “If it’s not true, why’d you let me in?”

The question cuts deeper than you want to admit.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why I let you in.”

His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile, something that makes your stomach twist. “I do,” he says softly.

“What do you mean?”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your arm. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull back.

“You let me in,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, “because you still love me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s not—”

“You do,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “And that’s okay. I’m not mad about it. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand lingers on your arm, and you feel like you’re drowning, like the walls are closing in on you.

“Su-bong, please,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face now. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says, his voice soft and coaxing. “Just… let me stay. Just for a little while.”

You shake your head, your breath hitching. “I don’t want you here.”

“Yes, you do,” he says quietly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to say it, but I know you do.”

The weight of his hand on your face is unbearable.

And in that moment, you realize—

You’re trapped.

His hand lingers on your cheek, warm and steady, but the weight of it feels crushing. Your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurring as his thumb brushes gently over your skin. It’s too much — the closeness, the intimacy he’s trying to pull you back into.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t.

“You don’t have to fight this,” Su-bong says softly, his voice slurring at the edges. “I’m not your enemy, Y/N.”

The words twist in your chest, sharp and suffocating. You push his hand away, your fingers trembling as you take a step back.

“You need to leave.” Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge of panic creeping into it.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he watches you, his gaze heavy and unreadable. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice low and raw. “Why are you pushing me away when you know—”

“Know what?” you snap, cutting him off. “What the fuck do I know, Su-bong? Because right now, I don’t know anything.”

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” you continue, your voice rising, breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know why you can’t just leave me alone. And I don’t know what the fuck happened that night.”

The room goes still.

For a moment, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

Your chest tightens, your stomach twisting violently. “Don’t do that,” you say, your voice cracking. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He shakes his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Stop lying!” The words burst out of you, loud and jagged, echoing in the suffocating silence. Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, as you take a shaky step forward. “Stop fucking lying to me, Su-bong!”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Your voice breaks, the weight of your anger and fear crashing over you all at once. “You’ve been lying this whole fucking time, haven’t you? About everything.”

His gaze flickers, something dark and frantic flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Tell me what happened that night,” you demand, your voice trembling but unrelenting. “Tell me what you did.”

He flinches, just slightly, but it’s enough.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. “I woke up in your bed, Su-bong. I had bruises on my thighs. My underwear was backward.” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of the words. “And I don’t remember anything.”

His face goes pale, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he quickly looks away.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Fucking say something.”

He drags a hand through his hair, his movements jerky and unsteady. “I didn’t—” He stops, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might shatter. “I didn’t mean for it to—”

Your stomach drops. “For it to what?”

His gaze snaps back to you, wild and panicked. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?” His voice rises, cracking at the edges. “You were just—”

He stops himself again, his words hanging in the air like a noose tightening around your throat.

“I was just what?” you demand, your voice trembling. “Say it, Su-bong. Finish your fucking sentence.”

He doesn’t.

He looks at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as if he’s searching for the right words. But none come.

And that’s worse than anything he could have said.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. Your mind spins, piecing together fragments of the truth you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Did you…” The words catch in your throat, your stomach churning violently. “Did you touch me?”

“No,” he says quickly, too quickly.

You flinch, the sharpness of his denial cutting through you like a blade. “Then why can’t you just tell me what happened?”

His hands shake at his sides, his knuckles white as he clenches them into fists. “Because it doesn’t fucking matter, Y/N!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“It doesn’t matter?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not what you think, okay? I didn’t—” He stops himself again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

The room tilts, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

“That far?” you whisper, your chest tightening painfully. “What the fuck does that mean, Su-bong?”

He doesn’t answer.

The silence is deafening, your pulse roaring in your ears as you stare at him, waiting, hoping for something—anything—that makes sense.

But all you get is the look on his face.

The guilt.

The shame.

The fear.

And you know.

You know.

Your legs give out, and you sink to the floor, your back pressing against the wall as your breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft now, pleading. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Don’t come near me.”

“Please,” he says, his tone desperate. “Just let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” you say, your voice cracking. “You did it, didn’t you?”

His silence is all the confirmation you need.

You press your hands to your face, your tears spilling over, hot and relentless.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t—”

“Get out.”

The words are quiet but firm, cutting through the suffocating tension like a knife.

“Y/N, please—”

“Just fucking go!” you scream, your voice raw and jagged, echoing through the apartment.

He doesn’t.

“Get the fuck out!” you scream again, your voice raw and jagged, slicing through the suffocating tension.

But Su-bong doesn’t move.

Instead, he stares at you, his chest heaving, his face twisting into something you can’t quite recognize. Something darker. “I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous.

Your stomach twists violently. “You need to leave, Su-bong. Now.”

“Why?” he snaps, his voice rising. “So you can sit here and hate me? So you can keep twisting this into something it’s not?”

“Something it’s not?” Your voice cracks, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “You just admitted it! You just fucking said—”

“I said I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he shouts, cutting you off. His face is flushed now, his eyes wild, the faint slur in his voice sharper. “That’s not the same thing!”

“It’s exactly the same thing!” you scream back, the words ripping out of you like a knife. “You knew I was drunk! You knew I couldn’t—”

“You didn’t say no,” he interrupts, his voice low and venomous.

The room falls silent.

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

And then, quietly, trembling—

“That never stopped you before.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Su-bong’s face twists, something dark and ugly flashing across it. His jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “You’ve always pushed, always taken. And I—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I let you, because I loved you. Because I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!” he shouts, his voice breaking. He takes a step closer, his movements unsteady, uncoordinated. “I’ve always fucking loved you!”

“Love?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh and cutting. “This isn’t love, Su-bong. This is control. This is you trying to fucking own me.”

“I don’t want to own you!” he yells, his voice cracking. “I just—” He stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his movements erratic. “I just want you to stay. I just want us to be okay again.”

“There is no ‘us,’” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “Not anymore.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. He staggers back slightly, his eyes wide, his chest heaving. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

And that’s when it happens.

He lunges forward, grabbing your wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you flinch. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice desperate, pleading. “Please, Y/N. Don’t fucking do this.”

“Let me go.” Your voice is sharp, but your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Not until you listen to me!” he shouts, his grip tightening slightly.

“Let me go!” you scream, jerking your arm back. The force of it sends you both stumbling, and for a moment, everything is chaos.

Your hand connects with his chest—an instinctive push to get him away from you. He stumbles again, his back hitting the edge of the couch.

And then he snaps.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall beside him. The sound is loud, jarring, the plaster cracking under the force. “Why the fuck do you always have to make everything so goddamn hard?”

Tears stream down your face, hot and relentless, as you back away from him. “Get out,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “Not until you stop lying to yourself. Not until you admit you still love me.”

You laugh. Bitter. Sharp. The sound scrapes its way out of your throat, raw and venomous.

“Love you?” you say, the words trembling on the edge of rage. “I fucking hate you.”

The air in the room shifts.

His expression changes — a flicker of something unrecognizable crossing his face before it hardens into something darker. He steps toward you, his chest heaving, his fists still clenching at his sides.

“What did you just say?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.

“You heard me,” you snap, your voice rising, shaking. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate what you’ve done to me, what you’ve made me. I fucking hate you, Su-bong.”

For a second, you think he’s going to hit you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he reaches for the mug sitting on the table beside him.

“You hate me?” he says, his voice shaking with barely-contained rage. “After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve put up with?”

The mug is in his hand now, his knuckles white as he grips it.

“You could barely last a week without me,” he spits, his voice rising. “You think you’re so fucking strong now? You’re nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing.”

And then he throws it.

It happens so fast, you barely have time to react.

The mug shatters against the wall behind you, fragments raining down around your feet. You flinch, your heart slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Are you fucking insane?” you scream, your voice cracking.

“You’re the one who made me like this!” he yells, his voice raw, ragged. He takes a step toward you, and you instinctively step back, your shoulders hitting the wall behind you.

“Get out,” you say, your voice trembling. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Su-bong.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes, you are!” you scream, your voice breaking. “You don’t get to do this to me anymore! You don’t get to keep fucking breaking me and acting like it’s my fault!”

“I never broke you!” he yells, his voice rising to a roar. “You were already broken, Y/N! You’ve been broken since the day I met you!”

The words hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck you,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

“Go ahead,” he snaps, his voice venomous. “Blame me for everything. That’s all you’ve ever been good at.”

“Blame you?” you shout, your chest heaving with rage. “You ruined my life, Su-bong! You fucking destroyed me, and you don’t even care!”

“I cared more than anyone else ever did!” he shouts back, his voice cracking. “No one else gave a shit about you, Y/N! No one else stayed!”

“I wish you hadn’t!” you scream, your voice breaking. “I wish I’d never met you!”

The room goes silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a guillotine.

He stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Say it again,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

The air in the room shifts, heavy and suffocating.

His chest heaves with every labored breath, his fists trembling at his sides. And then he moves.

It’s a blur—the way he closes the distance between you, the way his hand shoots out and tangles in your hair. Pain flares at your scalp, sharp and instant, as he yanks you closer with a force that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Su-bong!” you cry, your hands flying up to claw at his wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“No,” he snarls, his face inches from yours, his voice cracking with rage and desperation. “No, you’re hurting me, Y/N! You’re hurting me!”

His words are guttural, raw, as though they’ve been ripped from the deepest, ugliest part of him. His grip tightens, pulling harder, and you stumble, your knees buckling as you try to twist away.

“Let me go!” you scream, panic lacing every word. Your nails dig into his arm, leaving crescent-shaped marks against his skin, but it only seems to fuel him further.

“You don’t get to do this to me!” he yells, dragging you closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the wildness in his eyes swallowing you whole. “You don’t get to walk away like none of it mattered!”

“I didn’t—” Your voice cracks, tears spilling over, hot and relentless. “I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Liar,” he spits, his grip jerking you violently. “You’ve done everything, Y/N. You’ve ruined me, and you don’t even fucking care.”

Your heart pounds, a frantic, desperate rhythm that drowns out everything else. “Please,” you choke out, your voice trembling. “Please stop.”

But there’s no stopping him.

You twist sharply, pulling against his hold with every ounce of strength you have. He lets out a snarl of frustration as you manage to free yourself, stumbling back against the wall. For a moment, you think it’s over, that maybe he’s come to his senses.

But then his gaze drops to the lamp on the side table.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The lamp is in his hand before you can react, his fingers curling around its base like it’s an extension of his rage.

“You want me to stop?” he spits, his voice rising. “Fine. I’ll fucking stop.”

And then he throws it.

The lamp sails through the air, and for a split second, time seems to slow. You see it coming, but there’s no time to move. It smashes into your shoulder with a sickening thud, the force of it sending you sprawling to the floor.

Pain blooms instantly, sharp and white-hot, radiating from your shoulder down to your fingertips. You cry out, clutching the spot where it hit, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Does it hurt?” he taunts, his voice dripping with venom. “Good. Maybe now you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Your vision blurs with tears, the pain and fear twisting together into something unbearable. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, your voice breaking.

“What’s wrong with me?” he snaps, his voice cracking. “You, Y/N. You’re what’s wrong with me. You made me like this!”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

His laughter is low and bitter, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “You drove me to this. You, with your lies, your fucking games—”

“I didn’t play any games!” you shout, your chest heaving. “I just wanted to get away from you!”

“You don’t get to run!” he roars, his face twisting into something unrecognizable. “Not after everything I’ve done for you! Not after—”

He stops abruptly, his gaze flickering to you, then to your throat.

And before you can move, before you can scream, he’s on you.

His hands wrap around your neck, his grip cold and unrelenting.

At first, it doesn’t feel real—the pressure, the way your breath catches in your throat, the way his face looms above you, wild and furious. But then the reality slams into you all at once, and the panic sets in.

You claw at his hands, your nails scraping against his skin as you gasp for air. The world narrows to the sound of your strangled breaths, the pounding of your pulse in your ears, the fire spreading through your lungs as you fight to inhale.

“Why do you always make me do this?” he growls, his voice shaking with anger. “Why do you always push me, Y/N? Why?”

Your vision blurs, black spots creeping in at the edges.

He’s saying something else, his voice a low, guttural snarl, but you can’t make out the words. All you can focus on is the pressure, the way it feels like your throat is collapsing under his grip.

And then—

A loud, sharp knock cuts through the haze.

“Police! Open the door!”

The sound barely registers at first, muffled and distant, like it’s coming from another world.

But it’s enough.

The knocking grows louder, more insistent. Voices shout from the other side, commanding, urgent.

“Police! We’re coming in!”

Su-bong’s grip falters, just slightly, as the realization dawns on him.

His gaze snaps to the door, then back to you.

“You called the fucking cops?” he snarls, his grip tightening again, his face contorting with rage. “You think they can save you? You think anyone can fucking save you from me?”

The sound of the door bursting open cuts him off.

In an instant, the room is flooded with voices—sharp, commanding, barking orders that you can’t quite process.

“Get off her!”

“Hands up!”

Su-bong freezes, his hands still around your throat, his body trembling with barely-contained fury.

“Let her go now!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The tension in the room is suffocating, the weight of his anger pressing down on you like a vice.

And then, finally, he lets go.

You collapse to the floor, gasping for air, your body trembling violently as you clutch your throat.

The officers swarm him, grabbing his arms and pulling him away from you. He struggles against their hold, shouting obscenities, his voice wild and broken.

“She fucking lied!” he screams, his voice cracking. “She lied about everything!”

You don’t respond. You can’t.

All you can do is lie there, your chest heaving, your vision blurred with tears, as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

The officers’ voices blur together, a cacophony of sound that you can’t quite make out. One of them kneels beside you, their hand on your shoulder, their voice soft and steady.

“Miss, are you okay?”

You don’t answer.

Your gaze drifts to Su-bong as they drag him toward the door, his screams echoing in the apartment.

And for the first time in years, you feel something you haven’t felt in so long—

Relief.

You know what’s good for you.

You’ve done what you could for him.

And he was finally gone.

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imsofreakingtired · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing <3

I wanted to ask,can you please write something about really drunk Sevika being vulnerable with reader and reader comforting her?

Maybe drunk Sev talking about how tired she is or her expressing some insecurity?

anon i love this ask so much, here u go<3

tired (angst, hurt/comfort)

content warning(s): alcohol abuse, heavy(ish?) angst

“you haven’t felt right for days is it the fact you never say what comes in your mind that day? maybe it’s time to shut away ‘cause i’ve never really felt okay.”

~~~

You can’t find Sevika anywhere—she’s not at the Last Drop, she’s not at the harbor, and no one in the Shimmer warehouse has seen her all day. You finally find her up in Silco’s empty office, sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of hard liquor and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her prosthetic arm is detached, propped up against the low table. You remember that Silco’s away on a trip uptown for the night, something about him needing to buy things for Jinx’s room. The room is so silent you can hear everything in the streets outside—the fights, the drunk laughter, the rumble of wheels. Somewhere deep beneath the building you hear the distant boom of an explosion—Jinx must be working on her experiments.

“Sevika?” you say in a low voice. She gives a start, stares at you like she’s never seen you before.

“Hey,” she says. Her gaze is slightly unfocused, and in the dim light of the lamp the rings beneath her grey eyes look deeper and heavier than you remembered.

“You okay?”

You approach her slowly. You’ve never seen her like this before—sitting in this slouched position, hand limp, absent-minded. You feel a sudden concern. Is she sick? But that was like wondering if the sun shined at night. Sevika didn’t get sick.

“I’m fine,” Sevika says gruffly.

You feel her forehead anyway. Half-heartedly, she bats your hand away. You’re closer to her now and can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Hey,” Sevika says again. “Why do you stick around?”

“What?”

She raises the bottle to her mouth, but seems to decide even that motion requires too much energy. She lets the bottle roll onto the floor. It was empty anyway.

“I’d leave me, y’know, if I could,” Sevika mutters. “So why don’t you.”

Then you understand. The slurring of words. The heavy tone. She’s drunk. This is somehow even more alarming than if she were sick. Sevika doesn’t get drunk. She has a powerful alcohol tolerance and disciplines herself with a limit to how much she can drink each day. She can’t afford to get carried away, doesn’t have the time to let herself fully escape from the world. There’s just too much to do. Silencing Silco’s opponents. Overseeing shipments. Bribing Piltie suppliers. Making deals with the magistrates of Zaunite districts. And, lately, cleaning up Jinx’s messes.

At any rate, though, she’s drunk now—no doubt about it. You’re almost fascinated. Working at the Last Drop, you’ve seen any number of drunks: some sobbed loudly about past wrongs, some picked violent fights, some jumped up on tables and sang. But Sevika is collected even in intoxication. Her voice is subdued, and she looks more tired than anything.

“I stick around because I care about you,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting down beside Sevika.

“I’m no good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m no good. You deserve better.”

“Don’t say that, Sevi. It isn’t true.”

There’s something desperate in the way she’s looking at you—a raw plea in her eyes. You cup her face in your hand, raising her chin to look her in the eye. “Hey,” you say softly. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”

She looks away. “I feel like I’m holding up a crumbling brick wall. I’m walking through these streets and I see these kids, you know, playing in the gutter and looking up at me with their hungry eyes, and my chest gets so tight I think I might die.” She shakes her head, draws in a shuddering breath. “It’s never enough. No matter what I do, what choices I make. It’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

“You’re doing all you can.”

“I’ve done horrible things. I close my eyes and I see these…these faces, these twisted angry faces, cursing me for what I’ve done to them.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I had the choices. I made all the wrong decisions.” Her voice breaks and she stops abruptly, biting her lip. “I just…I just don’t know myself anymore.”

“I know you,” you tell her. “And I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re more than enough.”

She looks at you tiredly. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her broad shoulders.

“It's okay, Sevi. I’m here.”

With a deep sigh she rests her head in your lap, and you stroke her hair until she falls asleep. You don’t leave her side even after you hear her slowed breathing. You stay there, running your fingers through her hair, threading out the heavy thoughts, warding away the nightmares. She won’t remember this in the morning. She would deny she ever gave a thought to any of what she told you, let alone spoke them aloud. So you store her secrets in your heart for her. If you could take away her burdens by doubling your own, you would.

In her sleep, Sevika clings tightly to you.

#what do you MEAN i have 12+ hours of homework that i'm ignoring to write sevi angst.#ngl yall writing this one broke me a little bit #okay it broke me a lot #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika angst #sevika x female reader #sevika fanfic #song: tired by beabadoobee

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abbysbug · 2 days ago

Text

broken stars

pairing: abusive!ellabs x afab!reader

summary: abby and ellie switching between who hates you or loves you as a form of mental torture.

content: mental abuse, physical abuse, face slapping, crying, degradation, begging, orgasm from a water faucet, manipulation, dubcon.

a/n: this was written in under an hour and on my phone so don’t expect something great LOL

join the discord

your lip quivers and your eyes shine with unshed tears. ellie’s thumbs runs over your lip and gums, sighing softly. you nuzzle your sore cheek into her palm; it still feels hot from abby’s slap.

“just had to piss her off, hm?” ellie questions, her damp thumb dragging over your reddened cheek.

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble. your knees are starting to ache. the wooden floor isn’t comfortable.

ellie pulls you into her embrace. your head rests against her stomach and she threads her finger through your hair, scratching your scalp with her blunt nails. you know your suffering is turning her on; you can smell it.

“don’t give into her, els.” abby grunts. “she’s being a pathetic bitch.”

you squeeze your eyes shut and lean further into ellie. you whine as your ripped from her warm embrace and collide with the cold ground. abby stands over you, a fistful of your hair in her hand.

“say it.” abby demands.

“abby-“

the slap was expected. you finally let your tears shed and you sniffle. “i’m being a pathetic bitch.” your voice is broken.

abby releases her grip with a smile and steps back. ellie is quick to fill her space, kissing your cheek lovingly. “let’s run you a bath.”

you cling to ellie’s arm as she runs the bath, making sure the water is the perfect temperature for you. she loves how clingy you get after abby hurts you, almost makes her heart ache for you. almost. she lowers herself into the bath before pulling you into her. your back rests against her front. her fingers make mindless patterns across your stomach, nearing lulling you into a sleep.

“she entered your office today.” abby shows her phone at ellie. stupid cameras.

ellie freezes and you tense. her fingernails dig into her stomach causing you to squirm. her hand snakes around your throat and she squeezes.

“please, i-i just needed.” your words die on your tongue. you didn’t need anything. you were just nosey.

“i don’t ask much of you. i’ve only asked for you to follow a few rules and you can’t follow that simple one?” she hisses.

just as you swear you’re about to pass out, ellie gets out of the bath, leaving you to sit alone in lurkwarm water. she slams the door behind her.

abby stares at you, her expression is unreadable. tears run down your face and you bite your lip, trying to contain your cries. you turn your attention to the water, feeling embarrassed that abby is just staring.

abby crouches down, leaning against the bath for support and hooks a finger under your chin. “you’ve been a brat all day.” you chuckles at how you sniffle at her words. “you wanna make it up to me?”

you nod. you’d do anything for her forgiveness. “and ellie?”

abby’s manhandles your body to be facing the water faucet and spreads your thighs. “i’m forgiving you. not ellie.”

you whine as the water hits your clit. you try to close your thighs but abby keeps them open. you want to drag yourself away but you know that it would only piss her off more.

“you’re so perfect.” abby kisses down your neck, her hands groping your tits like it’s the last thing she’ll ever touch.

you moan. “thank you.”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum. your legs shakes and ur body falls limp. abby pulls you out of the bath and dries you before carrying you to the room. she rests you against her chest and rubs at your back. you can’t contain your cries anymore.

“i’m sorry, abby. i don’t know why i’m bad, i just-“

she hushes you with a kiss to the head. “it’s okay, baby.”

you cry until you fall asleep. abby grins as ellie walks into the room. she flops onto the bed next to abby and brushes your hair out of your face.

“i wanna physically hurt her next time. mentally isn’t as fun.”

abby rolls her eyes. “you’re sick.”

ellie laughs, “she loves it.”

#ellabs x reader #ellabs x you #ellabs x y/n #ellabs smut #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #melposts

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azzifuddfanpage · 1 day ago

Note

I think for a name you could maybe do like “Unexpected”

but also, did she ever give azzi her legos😭😭

do you think you could write a cute fic of that and they have a lil Lego building session like they did that one live

Spaceship of Promises

—————— Hiii this is for all the fluff requests!

also thank you to @ldapper for the amazing editing like insane 🫶

Tw: none just fluff!

—————— Azzi!” Paige shouted from across the living room of the team’s suite, her voice cutting through the quiet.

No response.

“Azzi!” She yelled louder this time.

Finally, she could hear one of the suite doors swing open, followed by the soft patter of footsteps—certainly those of a 5 '11, curly-haired brunette. Sure enough, Azzi appeared a moment later

She was wearing a pink button-up pajama shirt and shorts covered in Stewie’s face, fluffy pink slippers, and her curls spilling out of a messy bun. Paige’s gaze and breath lingered for a moment as the top button of Azzi’s shirt hung open, revealing the soft skin of her clavicle.

“Yanna’s sleeping you’re gonna wake her up. What do you want?” Azzi teased, coming to sit on the couch behind Paige. She ran her fingers through her hair gently.

The blonde was on the floor, hunched over the coffee table, which was covered in a sea of tiny Legos. Paige leaned her head against Azzi and pouted. “Help me,” she whined, leaning back down to try and assemble another piece.

Azzi chuckled as she sank down beside Paige, watching her with amusement. Her tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she matched the pieces to the image on the box.

“I swear to god, I’ve built this thing three times and it still don’t look right,” Paige sighed, tearing apart the pieces she had just assembled.

“Okay, well where are the instructions?” Azzi asked, grabbing the box and shaking it. When nothing fell out, she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Don't tell me you were planning on free-handing this,” she laughed, playfully shoving her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Paige shrugged, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. “I could have figured it out eventually.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, standing up and stretching. Her shirt rode up a little, showing off her toned stomach. “Paige, come on. What did you do with the instructions?”

“I threw them away. Don’t need ‘em,” Paige said confidently.

Azzi just sighed and walked over to the trash can, pulling the crumpled paper out from the top. As she sat back down, she slid on her glasses, sorting through the instructions to find the right step.

“Okay, so this piece goes… here,” she muttered, holding up a tiny brick.

Next to her, Paige had flopped down on her stomach, propping her chin on her hand while the other rummaged through the pile of Legos. “Are you sure this one goes next? I swear it looks like we need the other… thingy,” she said, gesturing vaguely.

Azzi glanced at her with mock disbelief. “Thingy? You mean the corner tile? We’re following the instructions, Paige. No improvising. No wonder you haven’t gotten anywhere.”

Paige grinned mischievously and held up a bright pink Lego piece. “But wouldn’t it be cute if our spaceship had a ‘lil pop of pink here?”

Azzi sighed dramatically but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” Paige teased, nudging Azzi’s shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azzi replied softly, her voice almost wistful. “But you asked for my help,” she said sternly. “So if we’re doing this , it has to be right.” She wagged a finger in Paige’s face.

Paige sat up and shoved it away. “Whatever,” she laughed. But she grabbed the instructions anyway and began sorting through the pile to find the correct piece.

An hour later, Paige leaned back against the couch, admiring their progress. “You know, we’re actually pretty good at this.”

Paige smirked, holding up another pink piece and slipping it onto the spaceship in the almost absurd place.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “We? You would’ve still been stuck if I hadn’t pulled the instructions out of the trash,” she said, pushing Paige’s hand away and snapping the piece into its correct spot.

The coffee table was a chaotic scene’’Legos scattered across the rug, some kicked under the couch, and a few tucked away in Paige’s sweatshirt pocket (“for safekeeping,” she insisted).

Azzi leaned over to grab another brick when she felt a soft weight settle against her shoulder. Paige had flopped sideways, resting her head on Azzi with a contented sigh.

“Hey,” Azzi said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. “You’re slowing down the whole process. I know damn well you didn’t ask me to come help you while you just nap.”

Paige smiled lazily. “The spaceship can wait five minutes. You’re warm.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but a tiny blush crept across her cheeks. She nudged Paige’s head with her shoulder. “If you’re not gonna help, I’m gonna put you on sorting duty.”

Paige gasped, dramatically sitting up and grabbing at her chest. “Sorting duty? That's all I’m good for? C’mon, you love when I’m unpredictable.”

“You mean unhelpful?” Azzi teased, her lips curving into a smirk.

“I am helpful,” Paige shot back, grabbing a handful of pieces and sorting them into neat piles to prove a point. “I could totally do this if I wanted to.”

“Oh, yeah?” Azzi challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Then what piece comes next, Miss Helpful?”

Paige squinted at the instructions as if it were written in a foreign language. “Uh… this one?” She held up a long white piece.

Azzi snorted. “That’s for the cockpit. We’re building the engine, Paige.”

Paige groaned dramatically, falling back onto the rug. “I genuinely don’t understand why it matters they all look the same.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. Instead she grabbed the white piece paige had held up and gently placed it on the table in front of her.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “We’ll put a little pink in the cockpit. Just for you.”

Paige sat up, her eyes lighting up. “You’re giving in to my creative vision?”

Azzi shook her head, smiling. “No, I’m compromising. There’s a difference.”

Paige leaned in, so close that Azzi could feel her warm breath. “It’s because you love me,” Paige said with a smirk.

Azzi felt her cheeks heat up, but she met Paige’s gaze. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice quieter. “I do.”

For a second, the spaceship was forgotten as Paige kissed her. Their lips melted together in something that felt simple but meaningful. When they pulled apart, Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s.

“Even if I don’t wanna use the instructions?” Paige whispered, a teasing.

“Even then,” Azzi said with a laugh. “But only because you’re cute.”

The moment lingered, warm and quiet, until Paige pulled away, grinning mischievously. “Good thing. I may or may not have hidden another pink piece in the engine already.”

Azzi gasped, feigning betrayal. “Paige!”

Paige scrambled to her feet, laughing as Azzi lunged at her. “It was for the aesthetic, trust!” she cried, dodging around the coffee table.

“You didn’t even want my help. You just wanted to annoy me!” Azzi called after her, though she couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice.

They ended up in a tangled heap on the couch, Paige’s arms wrapped around Azzi’s waist as they both dissolved into giggles.

“Okay,” Azzi said, catching her breath. “Truce. You can keep the pink engine piece. But no more sabotage.”

Paige gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. No more sabotage.” Then, with a devilish grin, she added, “Unless it’s really funny.”

Azzi shook her head but snuggled into Paige’s side, her head resting on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, the silence of the night settling around them.

Finally, Paige nudged the half-built spaceship with her toe. “I think we built something pretty cool,” she said softly.

When there was no response, she leaned back, peering down at Azzi’s face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had evened out.

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face before kissing her forehead softly.

#azzi fudd #pazzi #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #i love azzi fudd #pazzi fic #paige x azzi #azzi and paige #paige and azzi

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a-pute11as · 3 days ago

Text

proud

word count - 1.7k | summary - injured r watching lia play

MDNI 18+ - not smut but suggestive comment

“ouch fuck fuck that hurts” you went down clutching your ankle. the whistle immediately stopped play as an opposition player held her hands up as if her collision didn’t automatically send you to the floor when the ball was nowhere near to you.

lia’s head turned as she watched you go down in pain, her feet immediately picking up as she rushed over to you. “are you okay?” she had crouched down by your side, her hand clutching onto you as you winced.

“i don't know what i’ve done to it but it hurts” you cried out, you knew the pain wasn’t the worst you’d felt but the shock of the player taking you down so suddenly had made it feel worse.

“It’s okay baby, they’re on their way over now to help” she was doing her best to comfort you but you were struggling to push past the throbbing in your ankle.

the medical team had made their way over to you, agreeing to bring you off the pitch. whilst you refused to get on a stretcher, you agreed to your girlfriend helping you off the pitch before returning to the game.

you had sustained a small ankle injury, which was bound to keep you off the team sheet for at least 4 weeks. unfortunately one of those games being a champions league quarter-final. you hated injuries, your heart ached as you watched your team do everything you’d usually be involved in. even though you longed to be back on the pitch, the injury meant you felt a different kind of excitement leading up to games, being able to proudly watch your girlfriend on the pitch from the stands whilst wearing her jersey as if it was made for you and cheering her name alongside the crowd was a pretty good replacement.

—

perching yourself on the bench in the changing room you let your crutches fall to the floor, allowing yourself to get comfortable. whilst you were wearing the usual travel kit, just like every other player who was currently injured, you had snuck one of lia’s jerseys underneath your hoodie. the changing room was slightly manic, it was a mid week game at the emirates that held a lot of importance to get us through to the semi-finals of the champions league.

lia made her way over to you, having just finished warming up with the rest of the team, her smile allowed you to forget the jealousy of not playing, her hands cupped your cheeks as she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“how’s your ankle?” she asked, looking down towards your foot, a big chunky boot covering the swelling that made you wince everytime you walked without support.

“it’s okay, how are you feeling about the game?” you asked, as she moved to sit next to you.

“I'm always a little bit nervous, but i know you’ll be watching from the stands so that makes it better” she smiled, playfully nudging into your shoulder lightly.

“i do have a pretty good view of you from behind when you’re on the pitch” you smirked, raising your eyebrows.

lia was slightly taken back at the comment you made, but it didn't take long for her to come back with something just as cheeky “hm funny you say that because i had a pretty good view on top of you last night, sounded pretty good too” she retaliated, keeping her voice relatively quiet as she spoke.

you were left slightly gobsmacked at lia’s comment, she had a tendency to be bold but would never dare to show that in public and certainly not in front of your teammates. your cheeks had flushed red as your mind was instantly reminded of the activities you engaged in last night.

lia’s hand made its way to your thigh, snapping you out of the gaze you were in, a cheesy smile on her face as if she made an innocent comment about puppies and rainbows rather than your late night fun.

soon enough renee was preparing everyone with a pregame speech, hyping up everyone in the room which was followed by a short team chant. as the players that were on the bench made their way out, lia stood in front of you with her hands extended to help pull you up.

“wait i have to show you something” as you struggled to pull your hoodie up to show her your top underneath she looked at you with a puzzled face, “jesus fuck okay just look at the back of it before it falls down” you said, the back of your hoodie now up by your neck exposing your girlfriends name on your shirt.

lia took a moment to look, her hand holding up your hoodie as a smile grew on her face, she cupped her hands on your cheeks before her lips met yours. “I love you so much” she smiled, peppering kisses around your face.

“go smash it for me, wally” you smiled back, before lia helped you up, handing you your crutches to help stabilise you.

you gave her one last kiss before wishing both her and your fellow teammates good luck as you started your hobble out to what you had dubbed the ‘sad players; section, aka you and anyone else who was currently injured complaining about not playing for 2 hours. sitting next to vic, you instantly wrapped yourself in a blanket that had been waiting for you.

the game was intense, being 0-0 at half time was difficult. you sat in the changing room as katie and leah took turns setting out a plan for the next half of the game whilst trying to boost team morale. you gave lia another good luck kiss before heading back up to your dedicated area for the remainder of the match.

at 70 minutes, you watched as your attack built up leading to a shot on target that just skimmed the bar, leading to a corner that you desperately needed. all you could hear was repeated chanting around you as each player made their way to their designated spot for the set piece.

it was like it happened in slow motion, katie swung the ball into the box, it was perfectly placed yet the opposition defended it sending back out slightly but it landed straight at the feet of lia who sent it back in allowing russo to slide it in through the mess of defenders.

the crowd erupted as you flung yourself to your feet, ignoring the pulsing feeling that shot through your foot, you engulfed vic with a hug as your excitement practically poured out of you. proud tears forming in your eyes at the beautiful assist your girlfriend just played.

you watched as lia directed herself towards you, giving you the same cheesy smile she had shown you earlier. you blew her as a kiss in response as she made her way back to her position.

the next 20 minutes were painful, shot after shot as the game stayed at 1-0 but every chance felt like it was getting closer. the seconds counted down to full time as you stood up in anticipation for the final whistle to be called. it felt like hours when it was only a matter of minutes.

the whistle was blown and the stadium broke out into cheers. completely forgetting your crutches you awkwardly hobbled down a few stairs to get you down to the pitch, luckily vic was right behind you with them to save you from making a fool out of yourself at a packed emirates. you slipped your arm into the crutches, making your way towards your smiling girlfriend who was shaking hands with the opposition.

as soon as her eyes met yours, her direction completely changed, she picked up some speed causing you to drop your crutches as her arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor slightly.

“you got such a good assist” you whispered into her, your head buried into her neck, “i’m so proud of you”.

“i knew i’d do well with you wearing my shirt” she whispered back.

the two of you pulled away, allowing you to plant a small kiss on her cheek. the two of you stood smiling at each other for a moment, forgetting the crowd of people surrounding you until alessia came rushing over, wrapping her arms around lia as the two swayed side to side.

“buzzing! absolutely buzzing!” she shouted before moving to give you a quick hug.

“you played incredibly less, that goal was beautiful!” you complimented, giving her shoulder a nudge.

“i couldn’t have done it without wally, it was a beautiful assist” alessia said, directing her words towards lia before heading to the team huddle that was starting to form.

lia reached down and picked up your crutches before the two of you started a slow walk towards the rest of your team, her arm wrapped around your shoulder.

you spent the huddle watching the excitement on your teammates faces, and whilst you were excited too, the fact that you weren’t also in your kit pulled at your heart strings. the team made their way around the stadium, thanking the fans for their turnout, lia sticking close by your side as you walked around.

once you finished your lap, you made your way back inside to the changing rooms. it was loud, music was blaring and half eaten pizza boxes were scattered around the room. considering the game finished quite late, it didn’t take long for people to start heading for the coach, meaning you could also take that as your signal to also leave.

you made your way to the coach, finding a seat relatively far back, luckily it didn’t take long for lia to get on the coach, immediately making her way to the empty seat next to you.

her head was soon resting against your shoulder as the tiredness from a full 90 minutes on the pitch took over. “comfy?” you asked, smiling down at her relaxed state as her hand rested on your thigh.

the only response you got was a sleepy nod as your girlfriend floated off to sleep against you and all you could think of was how lucky you were to wear her shirt.

any typos im sorry x

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso oneshot #lia walti #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #awfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #arsenal women

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jhyoos · 3 days ago

Text

Of Roses and Steel

chapter four : the poet or the solider

mentions : medieval au, royalty au, romance, love triangle, unhinged mel, major character injury (sorry), angst, sex dream, light smut

notes: don’t hate me yall…

↲ previous chapter | next chapter ↳

It was late at night, and your room was cloaked in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. Eros was nestled in his usual spot, his rhythmic breathing indicating he was deep in sleep. You, however, couldn’t find the same peace. Your thoughts were restless, swirling in a chaotic dance of emotions you couldn’t tame.

Seated at your vanity, you poured everything out onto parchment—the tangled feelings you harbored for Vi and Sevika, the whirlwind of confusion, pain, and longing that had consumed you over the past few weeks. Your quill scratched against the paper, carrying the weight of your heart with each stroke. The words felt raw, but they were honest. When you finally set the quill down, you stared at the ink as it dried, your chest heavy with the release yet still aching with what remained unsaid.

With a sigh, you leaned back, rubbing your tired eyes before reaching for the candle that lit your room. Just as you prepared to blow it out, a soft knock broke the quiet. You froze, staring at the door as your heart picked up its pace.

The knock came again, firmer this time. You glanced down at the floor, where a faint shadow shifted in the light under the door. Rising from your chair, you hesitated for a moment before padding softly across the room. You unlocked the door and pulled it open slightly, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.

“Vi?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

There she stood, her red hair slightly disheveled, as if she’d hurried to your room without stopping to compose herself. Her expression was unreadable in the dim light, but her presence was enough to stir something deep inside you.

“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice low and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—hesitation, perhaps, or something deeper.

You nodded silently, stepping aside to let her enter. Vi moved past you, her steps deliberate yet quiet, as though she was careful not to disturb the stillness of the night. She stopped in the middle of the room, glancing around briefly before turning back to you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly, closing the door behind her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve been thinking…about everything.”

Her words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how small the room felt with her in it.

“What about everything?” you asked, your voice barely steady.

Vi hesitated, her eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. “About you. About me. About what we’ve been through. I just… I needed to see you.”

Your breath hitched at her words, the emotions you’d poured onto paper earlier threatening to overwhelm you again. You didn’t know what to say, but something about the way she looked at you—earnest and raw—made you feel like words weren’t necessary.

“I thought you went back to Piltover?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly as you took in the sight of Vi standing in your room.

“I couldn’t bring myself to go,” she admitted, her tone quiet but firm. “Not after what happened yesterday.”

Her gaze wandered briefly before landing on your vanity. The flickering candle illuminated the parchment you’d been writing on, the raw emotions you had poured onto it exposed like an open wound. Vi’s brows furrowed slightly, and before you could stop her, she began to walk toward it.

“Vi… don’t…” you started, stepping forward, panic rising in your chest.

But it was too late. She was already holding the paper, her eyes scanning the words you’d written. You froze, your heart pounding as you watched her read. Her face remained unreadable, the silence between you stretching out endlessly.

Finally, she looked up, her expression guarded but her eyes searching yours. “Is Sevika the woman that interrupted us at the party?” she asked, her voice steady but low, as if she already knew the answer.

You bit your lip, your hands clenching at your sides. You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah…” you said softly, meeting her gaze despite the lump forming in your throat.

Vi’s jaw tightened, and she glanced back at the letter before setting it down on the vanity with deliberate care. She crossed her arms, her head tilting slightly as she looked at you, as if she was trying to piece together the puzzle of your heart.

“I see,” she murmured, though her tone suggested she was far from understanding. “So, what? She’s been the one on your mind this whole time?”

“It’s not like that,” you replied quickly, stepping closer. “Vi, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the calm front she was trying to maintain. “I just… I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

Her words cut deeper than you’d expected, and the room felt heavy with unspoken emotions. You wanted to say something, to explain the complicated mess of feelings that had been tearing you apart, but the look in Vi’s eyes stopped you. There was hurt there, but also something else—an openness, as if she was waiting for you to say the right thing, to choose her.

“Vi, it’s not that simple,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you. I care about Sevika too. I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

Vi nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I get it. It’s messy.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the crackle of the candle’s flame, its light casting shadows across the room. Vi looked down at the floor, then back at you, her expression softening just a fraction.

“I came here because I wanted to see you,” she said. “I couldn’t leave without knowing where we stood. But now… I guess I don’t even know what I want to hear.”

Your heart ached at her words, and you stepped closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. “Vi, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know.”

Vi looked at your hand, then up at you, her eyes searching yours. After a moment, she sighed and took a small step back. “I think you need to figure out what you really want,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “And when you do… let me know.”

Before she could step out the door, you instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks. “You cannot make me feel guilty for loving both of you,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “It’s not fair… I’m only human.”

Vi turned back to you, her expression a mixture of frustration and hurt. “Why should I marry you?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Why should I sleep next to you every night, knowing you love another woman besides me?”

Her words stung, but you refused to look away. You held her gaze, your fingers tightening around hers. “You won’t,” you said softly, the words heavy with resignation. “Sevika is engaged now. The love that I have for her will soon fade away, Violet.”

Vi’s jaw clenched, her free hand balling into a fist at her side. “I want to see it,” she said, her voice low but brimming with intensity. “I don’t want to see you around her anymore.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her demand settling on your shoulders like an unbearable burden. “You know I can’t do that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s my father’s right hand… the leader of the army. I have to see her during dinners, at court. It’s unavoidable.”

Vi opened her mouth to argue, but you cut her off, your desperation spilling over. “I’ll try,” you said quickly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try to keep my distance. But Vi, you have to understand… I can’t just erase her from my life. Not like this.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she studied you, her fiery blue eyes softened by the pain she was trying so hard to hide. After a long moment, she exhaled sharply and pulled her hand from yours.

“You better mean that,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. “Because I’m not going to share you, not with her. Not with anyone.”

And with that, she stepped out of the room, leaving you standing there, the weight of her words and your promise hanging heavy in the air. The door closed behind her, and the silence that followed was deafening.

The morning started like any other. You followed your routine: getting dressed and heading to the library to study mathematics, languages, and music. Hours passed as you practiced piano, your fingers gliding over the keys, and endured vocal lessons that left your throat slightly sore. By the time you were free, the day had drifted into a peaceful afternoon, and you found solace in the gardens. Eros frolicked nearby, enjoying the fresh air while you sat on a bench, letting your mind wander.

You hadn’t seen Sevika, Vi, or even Mel all day—a welcome respite from the tension that had been suffocating you lately. But peace rarely lasted long.

One of your ladies rushed into the garden, her face pale with panic. “My lady… Vi is fighting Sevika in the courtyard!”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Shit…” you muttered under your breath as you quickly stood up, letting her lead you toward the commotion.

By the time you reached the courtyard, a large crowd had gathered. You pushed through the throng, your heart racing with dread.

“I’m tired of this!” Vi’s voice rang out, filled with fury. She pointed her sword at Sevika. “Let’s fight! Let’s see how good of a knight you really are.”

Sevika’s gaze was cold and steady as she regarded Vi with disdain. “You’re not worth my time,” she muttered, but the taunt only fueled Vi’s anger.

“Draw your sword!” Vi demanded, and with a reluctant smirk, Sevika finally obliged.

The clash of metal on metal filled the air as the two women lunged at each other. The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, but you felt nothing but dread as you tried to push closer.

“Stop! Stop!” you screamed, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your hand. You stumbled back, clutching it as blood seeped between your fingers. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and the fight came to an abrupt halt.

You looked up, your vision blurring with pain, and locked eyes with Sevika. Her sword was lowered, and guilt flickered in her expression.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed through gritted teeth, examining your palm. The wound was deep, a clean slice across your hand.

Before anyone could react further, your father stormed into the courtyard, his voice booming over the murmurs of the crowd. “Who did this?!”

You looked between Vi and Sevika, their faces tense and unreadable. Knowing the consequences they might face, you spoke quickly. “It’s my fault,” you lied, trying to sound convincing despite the pain.

Your father’s sharp eyes shifted to the papers clutched in Vi’s hand—the old love letters you had written about Sevika. Your stomach dropped.

Mel. She had to be behind this. She was the only one who knew where they were.

“Give me those,” your father barked, ripping the papers from Vi’s grasp. He scanned the letters briefly, his expression darkening. His gaze moved between you and Sevika, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Take my daughter to her chambers,” he commanded a nearby guard. “Ensure she does not come out until I say it’s time.”

“Father, please…” you started, your voice cracking.

“Not right now, (y/n),” he snapped, his use of your name chilling you to the core.

You didn’t argue further. There was no point. You let the guard wrap your bleeding hand and lead you away, the weight of your father’s anger and the consequences of the fight pressing down on your shoulders like a crushing burden.

The guard had called for a doctor shortly after escorting you to your chambers. When the doctor arrived, he examined your hand with precision and care. His touch was clinical, his tone calm and reassuring.

“You’re lucky,” he said as he carefully stitched the deep cut. “No tendons were damaged, and with proper care, it should heal well.”

You nodded mutely, the stinging sensation in your hand barely registering over the turmoil in your mind. When the doctor was done, he wrapped your hand neatly in bandages and gave instructions for aftercare before leaving you alone.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, you stared at the white linen wrapping your hand. The sight stirred something deep within you, a wave of emotions you hadn’t prepared for. It was more than just an injury—it was a mark of imperfection, a reminder of everything that had spiraled out of your control.

Your hand trembled as you turned it over, inspecting the bandage again and again. This was proof of your flaws, a physical manifestation of all the mistakes and chaos you had caused. You felt broken—both inside and out.

The weight of it all pressed down on you, suffocating. Before you realized it, tears spilled from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks in hot, unstoppable streams. The world seemed to be closing in, and for the first time, you let yourself crumble.

As fate would have it, your father entered the room at that very moment. Silco froze in the doorway when he saw you, vulnerable and in tears. His expression softened as he approached, and he knelt beside you, reaching out to wipe the tears from your face.

But you flinched, pulling away from his touch. “How can you love me?” you choked out, your voice trembling.

Silco’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t move closer. He let you speak.

“I’m so reckless... so weak,” you continued, your voice breaking with every word. “I’m nothing like my mother.”

The confession poured out of you in broken sobs, raw and unfiltered. You felt unworthy of the love and care your father had always given you, unworthy of the legacy your mother had left behind.

Silco’s silence was heavy, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and deliberate. “Don’t ever say that again.”

His words startled you, and you looked at him through tear-blurred eyes.

“You are my daughter. Future Queen Of Zaun,” he said firmly, his tone unyielding. “You are strong in ways you don’t even realize. Strength isn’t about being perfect. It’s about enduring. Surviving. Fighting, even when the odds are stacked against you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence you. “Your mother wasn’t perfect, no matter how much you idolize her memory. She had flaws, just like anyone else. But do you know what made her remarkable? She faced her weaknesses, her fears, her failures. And so will you.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, heavy yet comforting. You wiped at your face with your good hand, still feeling the tears linger but no longer choking on them.

“You may feel weak now,” Silco said, his voice softening, “but you’ll rise from this. And when you do, you’ll be stronger than you’ve ever been.”

For the first time, you allowed his words to sink in. They didn’t erase the pain or the doubt, but they planted a small seed of hope—a glimmer that perhaps you weren’t as broken as you believed.

Silco settled beside you on the bed, his movements deliberate yet gentle, as though afraid you might shatter beneath his touch. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a firm embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped you, his chin resting on the top of your head like a protective shield.

“You need time,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “I want you to stay here, in this room. Figure out what you want—what you want—and stop letting others decide for you.”

His words weighed on you, a mixture of permission and an unspoken challenge. You shifted slightly in his arms, feeling his hold tighten as though he feared you might slip away.

“I can’t say I approve of Sevika,” he admitted after a moment, his tone soft but resolute. “She’s an engaged woman. Her path is already set, yet...” He trailed off, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing. “She’s strong, determined, and wise. Sevika will protect you with both her strength and her mind—no matter what it costs her.”

You bit your lip at the mention of Sevika, your heart clenching at the truth of his words.

“And then there’s Violet,” Silco said, his voice dipping slightly. “She’s strong too, but stubborn. Hard of the head, maybe too much for her own good.” He exhaled softly, a faint, almost amused huff. “Yet there’s a fire in her, a love that’s unyielding. She’s adored by so many people, but all she wants is you.”

You closed your eyes as his words sank in, feeling his hand rub slow circles on your back.

“You are your own person,” Silco said firmly, the conviction in his voice unwavering. “Whoever you choose, I won’t be mad. I’ll stand by your side no matter what.”

You sighed, leaning deeper into his chest, drawing strength from his unwavering presence. “What if I just choose me?” you murmured, your voice almost breaking. “What if I don’t want either of them? What if I just want to rule by myself?”

Silco shifted, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His eyes, sharp yet softened with care, met yours. “That’s also a choice,” he said, his voice measured, “but...” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze piercing. “Would you be able to live with yourself if you didn’t have a companion? Would you truly be content ruling alone?”

His words settled heavily on your chest, and you turned away, your eyes scanning the room as if the answer might be hidden within its familiar walls. The regal, intricately carved panels of the room gleamed in the flickering light of the fire. Shadows danced across the floor, their movements unpredictable yet strangely hypnotic.

You fell into your thoughts, your mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Your love for Sevika was undeniable—a love rooted in admiration for her strength, her stoic demeanor, and her unwavering loyalty. But Vi... Vi’s love was a tempest, fierce and passionate, and her presence made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

You loved them both. And yet, the choice loomed over you like an unrelenting shadow.

“The poet or the soldier?” you whispered to yourself, the weight of the decision sinking deeper into your bones.

Silco said nothing more, his silence a comforting presence as you wrestled with your thoughts. He simply held you, offering a steadying anchor as the fire crackled in the background, its warmth casting a faint glow on the crossroads you now faced.

You woke to the sound of soft shuffling and the sensation of weight settling on either side of your bed. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you were greeted by the sight of Sevika and Vi leaning over you, their faces a mix of mischief and intensity.

“Did you sleep well, princess?” Vi asked, her voice low and teasing as she grabbed your arm, helping you sit up against the headboard.

You blinked in confusion, glancing between the two women. “Uh…what’s going on?” you asked, your voice groggy but laced with apprehension.

Sevika smirked, her gaze steady and confident. “We realized making you choose between us wasn’t fair,” she said matter-of-factly. “So, we both agreed…we’ll share you.”

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “Share me? How—”

Before you could finish your question, Vi leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The shock of it sent your heart racing, your mind struggling to catch up. At the same moment, Sevika’s strong hands tilted your head to the side, and her lips latched onto your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

The sensations overwhelmed you—Vi’s lips claiming yours with an urgency that left you breathless, while Sevika’s mouth worked against the tender skin of your neck, her teeth grazing just enough to make your body arch involuntarily.

“Wait…” you tried to speak between kisses, but Vi silenced you, her hands sliding to your waist as Sevika moved behind you.

You felt her warmth as she leaned in close, her calloused hands lifting your nightgown with ease. A sharp gasp escaped your lips when her fingers brushed against your wet folds between your legs.

“Someone’s excited,” Sevika murmured against your ear, her voice low and teasing, as she slipped her fingers inside of you, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

Vi pulled away from your mouth, smirking as her lips found the other side of your neck, her hands kneading your chest through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The two women worked in perfect sync, their touches igniting a fire within you that you couldn’t control.

You melted into their touch, soft moans spilling from your lips as Sevika’s fingers pumped steadily, each movement making you dizzy with pleasure. Vi’s teeth bit into your collarbone as her hands roamed, her possessiveness leaving no room for doubt about her intentions.

And then, a loud crash shattered the moment.

Your eyes snapped open, and you bolted upright in your bed, heart pounding as you took in the dimly lit room. It was just a dream.

Your gaze shifted to the floor, where Eros was guiltily wagging his tail beside an overturned table, the culprit behind the commotion.

Groaning, you flopped back onto the bed, throwing a pillow over your face in an attempt to hide from the lingering embarrassment. Your cheeks burned as the vivid details of the dream replayed in your mind.

“A threesome? Really?” you muttered under your breath, your voice muffled by the pillow.

This was your first explicit dream, and it was a threesome. You groaned again, half-laughing, half-mortified, as you tried to banish the images from your head, but they refused to leave.

Eros mewled softly, his head tilting in confusion at your frustration, but you couldn’t even look at him. You had no one to blame but your subconscious—and, of course, the two women who had somehow taken permanent residence in your heart and now, evidently, your dreams.

The clang of your blade against the practice dummy echoed through the training room, each swing of your sword growing more fluid, more forceful. You had spent the better part of an hour working through your frustrations—your lessons, your father's words, the lingering pain in your hand. The sweat on your brow and the burn in your arms were the only distractions that seemed to quiet your mind.

You didn’t hear the door at first, but the sound of a slow, deliberate clap made you freeze. Turning sharply, you saw Mel leaning casually against the doorway. She was dressed just like you, her black, tight-fitting combat clothing outlining her athletic build. Her signature smirk tugged at her lips as her eyes flicked to the sword in your hand.

“You’re pretty good, Princess,” she said, stepping into the room. Her voice was friendly, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place.

“Thanks,” you replied shortly, lowering your sword but keeping it in hand.

Mel picked up a blade from the rack, testing its weight before giving it an experimental swing. “Want to spar? Just for fun. Nothing serious.”

You hesitated, glancing at her. Something about her demeanor felt… off. But it wasn’t unusual for Mel to challenge you—she often did, if only to tease you for being too "soft." Deciding you could use the practice, you shrugged. “Sure.”

The sparring started light, her blade meeting yours with calculated precision. She was skilled, her strikes fast and controlled. You matched her rhythm, every swing of your sword clashing against hers in a symphony of steel.

But as the match went on, something changed. Her strikes grew harder, her movements sharper, more aggressive. She wasn’t holding back anymore, and you found yourself forced onto the defensive.

“Getting tired already?” Mel taunted, circling you.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to let her win. Feigning left, you managed to land a glancing blow to her side, making her stumble back. For a brief moment, pride swelled in your chest.

But that moment was fleeting.

Mel’s boot shot out, slamming into your injured hand with brutal precision. Pain exploded through your palm, and you screamed, your sword clattering to the ground. Before you could recover, she spun and drove her foot into your stomach, knocking you to the floor.

You gasped, clutching your abdomen as the world tilted around you. “Good game,” you rasped, expecting her to back off now that you were down.

Instead, Mel stood over you, her expression unreadable as she lifted her sword. The metallic glint caught your eye too late.

Pain tore through you as her blade plunged into your stomach, the force of it pinning you to the floor. A scream ripped from your throat as your hands flew to the hilt, trying to push it away, but it was futile. Blood seeped between your fingers, warm and sticky.

“Oh, you thought this was a game?” Mel sneered, leaning down. Her voice was ice, her eyes alight with something dark and twisted. She pushed the blade deeper, twisting it cruelly, and another scream tore from your lips.

“Guards!” you cried, your voice hoarse with desperation.

Mel laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “No one’s coming. The guards? Long gone. I paid them to leave.”

You blinked up at her through tears, the betrayal cutting deeper than the blade in your stomach. “We… we were friends,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper.

“Friends?” she mocked, crouching closer. Her face was so close to yours now, her breath hot against your skin. “No. As my mother always taught me…keep my enemies close.”

Her words hit like a physical blow, and your body sagged against the floor, the pain and blood loss sapping your strength. She moved the sword purposefully making you wince.

“Look at you. Dying like your mother did…by a Medarda,” Mel says.

“You… won’t get away with this,” you said weakly, your vision beginning to blur.

Mel only smiled. “I already have.”

Before you could react, her boot connected with your face, the force of the kick snapping your head back. Darkness descended swiftly, swallowing you whole.

taglist (my shaylas <3): @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @taurtel @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @imfckngfantastic @imheadintothemountains @adora-moonshine @sevikasfan @sevikasleftbicep @sevikasrightboob @80saturn @littlerainsprite @runawaybaby3 @rhian88 @rhaeheartzsquirrelz @imsofreakingtired @athena-winters13

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spicedcherrylolli · 2 days ago

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PitFighter!Vi x Reader Part 1

Reader secretly gets nipples pierced and has been hiding them from Vi.

T.W- Suggestive content, NSFW

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

The crowd surrounding the ring was deafening. The cheers and money coming from every bit of your surroundings has you cheering as loud as you can. When you go to watch Vi, their is a primal need to let everyone know, (which they already do) that “She’s my girlfriend!” by cheering and announcing it multiple times. While in Vi’s favourite outfit, because tonight is the night you tell Vi. It has been 5 days since you got your nipples pierced, which is 5 days of no sex, and its wearing you both down.

Vi has been on edge for the past 3 days, training harder, in hopes to ease the constant lust running through her. She is confused for the most part but also wants you to be comfortable, hence her keeping her lustful thoughts to herself, until you want them.

Ding, ding, ding

Vi’s hand gets pulled up indicating her being the winner and you cheer, banging on the fencing surrounding the pit. Looking up, Vi spots you, smiles and winks, before being escorted out, you heading to the changing room. When you arrive, you walk into the room, locking the door and seeing Vi turn to greet you.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

“You did so good Baby.” You quickly walk over to her, “You were insane out there.”

Grabbing your waist to bring you closer Vi takes in your outfit, “ Yeah and you’re like my sweet sweet cheerleader wrapped up all nice,” She moves her finger indicating you to spin, “Just for me huh?”

Blushing as you face your girlfriend again, you nod your head, “Yup, all yours, if you want.” You check her out, grinning. Before you have a chance you say anything else, Vi has one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck pulling you towards her. Your lips collide moving in sync with each other, while your hands are touching all over vi. When she is about to tug your off shirt, you stop her.

“Wait,” Vi’s posture stiffens, while you pull back from the kiss, “I have a surprise for you.” Nervous hands folded in front of you. Looking up at her, you take in her powder blue eyes filled with lust from only a bit of touching.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” She whines, looking almost sad to not be touching you.

“I am sorry I have been distant but I’ve been hiding this from you. I hope you like them.” Grabbing the bottom of your shirt and taking it off to reveal your transparent bra under. Confusion flashed on Vi’s face. “Oh, one sec.” Unclipping the bra you let it fall to the floor.

“Fuck me” She curses under her breath. Moving her hand up to flick the ‘V’ hanging from your piercings. A sharp inhale being forced out of you at the contact. Her eyes filled with lust take you in from head to toe, and you feeling your heartbeat everywhere.

“So this is why I haven’t been wanting to touch too much recently?” Vi looks up at you, sincerity laced in her voice.

“Yes and I’m sorry but, It’s all for you baby,” seductively running your hands up and down her toned arms, “I just needed them to heal.” You explain. Grabbing her hands, you rub them up you abdomen, slowly inching closer to the new piercings. Vi’s eyes following the movement, letting you control the situation.

Liquid heat coursing through you. You needed her. Needed whatever she could give you, post fight. Vi’s expression now dark, dominating, making you want to do anything she could ever need, burn the world for her and for you she would do it in return. You let go of her hands and step closer bridging the gap between you. her hand moves up and then flicks the new piercing again. A gasp and moan surprised out at the contact.

“Oops, did I hurt you baby?” Vi asks in her sarcastic tone, moving the other hand up to do the same to the other. Another gasp escaping you.

“Such a pretty sensitive girl, aren’t you.” as she moves one hand to your throat, forcing eye contact. A whine ripped out of you. "Shh, its okay, I'll take care of you Cupcake." Her other hand moving down your abdomen right above your core.

“Vi please.” you whimper pushing yourself up, so her hand moves lower.

Grabbing your waist, she lifts you in to her arms, legs wrapping around her waist.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

Hi Lovies , this my official second time writing literally anything and I hope you liked it even a little. I am working on a part two that is full smut but since I am new it will take some time.

But thank you for all the love on the last post, that shits crazy. Anyways, luv you byeeeee.

-Cherry 🍒

#vi x reader #arcane x you #arcane x reader #vi smut #vi fanfic #violet arcane #vi x fem reader #vi x you #arcane #league of lesbians #pit fighter vi

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moonstruckme · 2 days ago

Note

i saw you wanted some asks other than the marauders

what ab eddie munson x homeschooled reader. i’ve never seen anyone write that and i was homeschooled through middle and high school. maybe reader is just hanging out in eddies room when he gets home from school bc they’re house is chaotic and they’d rather hang out with eddie? maybe reader brings their school work over to eddies to do because it’s quite at his place. i would take my books and notebooks to my friends house and do my school work until i got distracted. and usually id just flip to the back of the books for the answers 👀

i would pack my books in a tote like bag and just walk over there when i could lol

Thank you for requesting lovely Pepper <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 436 words

There are signs of you already when Eddie gets home. A pair of shoes by the door, a tidier kitchen than either Eddie or Wayne have ever left it, and soft music coming from Eddie’s room.

He finds you laying stomach-down on his bed, bent over a book and munching on a bag of chips with the radio sitting on the open windowsill. The afternoon breeze brings in the smell of greenery and springtime.

“Hey, beautiful.” Eddie lets his backpack slump to the floor.

You don’t startle. Must have heard him coming up the road. You turn your head to greet him with a show-stopping smile. “Hey.”

“You didn’t have to clean the kitchen.”

You shrug. “Figured if I’m going to steal your food, I may as well try and carry my weight.” You crunch down on a chip happily. “How was school?”

“Boring.” Eddie throws himself down onto the bed beside you, causing the springs to squeal and you to bounce slightly. “How’s your school going?”

“Not bad. Also pretty boring.”

“Yeah? Whatcha working on?”

You hum as his face finds its way to the side of your neck. It’s your routine to come to the quiet of Eddie’s trailer to do your schoolwork, and it’s Eddie’s routine to distract you. You tend to prove yourself amenable to distraction.

“Just math, you know. Bleh.”

“Bleh,” Eddie agrees. He kisses where your heart beats under your jaw. “But look at you, miss studious. Still doing work at four thirty in the afternoon.”

“Well” —he can hear the smile in your voice as you yield to distraction once again, letting go of your book to wrap your arms around him— “I didn’t actually start until noon.”

A giggly squeal escapes you when Eddie grabs your waist without warning, digging his fingers into your sides playfully. You’re beneath him in a second.

“Sounds like you’ve been working hard,” he says.

“Not really,” you reply, voice ringing with delight.

Eddie makes a pfft noise. He goes for your neck again, more to antagonize some more giggles out of you than anything else. “Harder than me. I think you deserve a break, sweetheart.”

Your fingers burrow into his curls. “I could use a break,” you say amenably.

“There’s my slacker.” Eddie works his way up to your mouth, catching the appalled laughter as it escapes.

“Hey!”

“What? I told you, you’ve already done more than me.”

“Yeah, but that’s such a low bar.”

“Huh?” He grabs your sides, kissing you as you writhe with poorly contained glee. “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Maybe you wanna try saying that again.”

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gothamite-rambler · 20 hours ago

Text

Dick, Roy, Donna, and Kara were locked in a room, each waiting for their partners to rescue them. Kara was feeling the effects of kryptonite, leaving her too weak to break them out.

Dick sat on the floor, idly circling his finger in the dust. The tension in the room lingered as they each contemplated their situation.

Dick: While we wait to be rescued, I have a confession… I don’t actually think Batman is that smart.

Roy: Wait, what?

Dick: Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. It's just... He thinks he can do everything on his own, but he really can’t.

Donna: Why are you confessing this now?

Dick: Because he’s my father and I grew up with him. I’m bored, and honestly, I’m frustrated by how long it’s taking him to save us. He’s an egotistical, blunt, traumatized guy who acts like he knows it all, but he doesn’t.

Roy: Um, can he—

Kara (raising her hand while lounging on the floor): Hold on, let him cook.

Dick: This guy has contingency plans for every hero out there but refuses to call them friends. He can’t maintain a relationship; I’m shocked he’s still with Selina. And for a master detective, he sure doesn’t seem to realize that gas station condoms or the pull-out method aren’t exactly foolproof!

Roy (interested now): Keep going.

Dick: He always has to insist on being right.

Donna and Kara: What? No.

Roy: No, I get what he’s saying.

Dick: He’s so difficult! He still refuses to admit that Phil Collins "In the Air Tonight" isn't about a drowning man! I’ll give him credit; he knows how to apologize when he’s wrong, he just sucks at always doing it. I grew up with that man in his twenties. I’ve seen all his mistakes. If it weren’t for Alfred, Jim, and honestly me, he’d be a complete train wreck—

Just then, Batman kicked open the door, clearly having overheard the entire conversation. Roy covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Dick waved nonchalantly, unfazed.

Dick: Hey, Papa! You made it... five hours later.

Batman (enraged): You… You... You are grounded! Grounded until... next month!

Dick pouted.

Kara: He’s an adult!

Dick: I mean, he can ground me. Totally worth it.

Batman grabbed Dick by the leg and started dragging him out, but Dick didn’t seem to mind, arms still crossed and a grin on his face.

Dick: I want McDonald’s!

Batman: No!

Dick (whining): I want McDonald’s!

Batman: Fine, but you’re still grounded.

Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Arrow watched the father-son argue for a moment, then turned to their respective family members.

Roy: Can you ground us?

Green Arrow (sighing): No. Just walk to the car.

Roy followed Green Arrow out while Donna linked arms with Wonder Woman and left alongside her. Meanwhile, Kara lifted her leg in front of Superman.

Superman: The effects of the kryptonite wore off.

Kara: Do it, or I’ll spill the beans about that Christmas party.

Superman (groaning): Fine.

He grabbed her leg and began dragging her along the smooth floor.

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aziraphales-library · 2 days ago

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Hello! Thanks for all your hard work, I’ve found so many good fics through here.

Do you have any recommendations for human au fics where Crowley and Aziraphale have known each other for a long time before becoming romantically involved. Could be acquaintances or co-workers or even friends, but looking for a good rec without a real meet cute/strangers-to-lover situation! Thanks so much :)

Hi! We have #friends to lovers and #childhood friends tags which you can check for lots of fics like this. Here are some more to add...

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

Slipping by AppleSeeds (T)

When Aziraphale's friend and colleague Crowley asks him out at their work Christmas party, Aziraphale turns him down, having only ever thought of Crowley as a friend. Months later, Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley have changed, but due to a series of increasingly ridiculous misunderstandings, they both become convinced that the other isn't interested in a romantic relationship. (They're just adorable, oblivious, and pining, that's the whole fic.)

Wanna Bet? by Mimsynims (E)

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t find my name’?” “I’m sorry, sir. We have bookings for all of your colleagues, but your name is missing. Unfortunately that means there’s no room set aside for you.” “Right…” Crowley could guess who had made the ‘mistake’. “But surely there’s another room available? It doesn’t have to be on the same floor as the others’.” He would actually prefer it if it wasn’t. “I’m afraid not, sir. Due to the conference all of our rooms are booked already.” The young woman on the other side of the counter looked genuinely distressed. “Most hotels within the vicinity are.” Crowley sighed and furrowed his brows. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place, and now he didn’t have a place to sleep? Knowing Gabriel, it would be no use asking to be allowed to go back home. “Let me check something…” The woman brightened again, a small smile growing on her face. “Yes. It’s not ideal, but it seems that two of your colleagues have been placed in double rooms. Perhaps you or someone else can consider sharing?” Anyone want to guess who he ends up sharing a room with? ;)

On The Side by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale is far too pure of heart to be anybody’s bit on the side. Or so Crowley thinks. But when his friend starts seeing walking red flag Jim, with his dodgy smiles and mysterious past, Crowley does everything he can to protect Aziraphale from disaster. His own heart might just end up being collateral damage.

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones. AU based on The Office.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #friends to lovers #co workers #office au #mod d

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typewritingyip · 3 days ago

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The Arcturus Missions

Part Twenty Three - Worrying the Medic

Part Twenty Two

———

Most mech suits were initially designed to have remote pilots, to not have a human being in the cockpit of the suit, hoping effectively for a drone. Clearly, that was not successful and the first countries to get functioning suits were ones who did not initially plan for that. Several other countries attempted that as their main strategy and in turn were delayed by the lack of progress.

Those suits went on to help with modern design for perception and maneuverability for the use of pilots.

Now, because of those designs most pilots have a widened visual perception, easier maneuverability, and enhanced UI. Unfortunately the new connections leave the pilots with the feeling of body dysmorphia. Both from the physical connection to the suit through their implants but also the visual, audial, and mental connection.

Scientists are still currently studying the effects of this on pilots, it is not currently in consideration to reduce the enhancements back to previous renditions for safety reasons, but new options are being considered for the sake of the pilots.

It’s unknown what this would do to pilots that have the ability to retire since the new generation of suits came about.

—

Cosmic rust was not taken lightly among Cybertronian’s. Whenever it was mentioned around Hound or Breakdown it would remind them of the diseases that would run rampant through military units, but this was a lot worse than the flu. It was spoken about in revenant tones, more akin to cancer.

Hound’s skin crawled and his implants burned.

Megatron was the first one up and stepping lightly away, “Alright, we know what the regulation states. Medic smells or sees rust then everyone gets checked. Knockout?” With a deep sigh, Knockout nods, “Of course, so, whose first?” Hound glances up and that was the wrong thing to do, “I see I’ve got a volunteer.” He gestures and starts to walk away.

At first, Hound stayed put before Mirage gave him a look, “He meant you Hound.” Sighing slowly, Hound pushed off the bench and started to follow the medic. Even back on Earth he hated going to the medic let alone a doctor.

Ducking slightly at the doorway, Hound moved into the medical tent, “You’re going to have to tell me if whatever I do is uncomfortable or dangerous Hound, I can’t read a person's visor, I’ve never been able to.” Nodding slightly, Hound moves and sits on one of the medical slabs, “Neither can I, Doc.” Knockout pauses and cracks a bit of a smile, “No one calls me doc anymore, they haven’t since the end of the war.” Hound tried not to smile, nodding a bit.

”And what do you mean, neither can you? Every single one of your kind, at least that I’ve met, has visors.” Hound chuckles lightly and shifts a bit, “Call it a feeling, we can tell in other ways how someone is feeling.” Nodding a bit, Knockout turns back around with a swab and dish, “Like an EM field, except you don’t have those either.” “Can’t say we do.” Knockout chuckles as he started to swab plating, frowning a bit after trying to get a seam.

Hound tries not to kick his feet, tries to sit still but it felt like he was back in the physical he had to take before the mission.

—

The room was white, not grey or blue but white except for the almost checkered floor. It looked like any normal doctors office but how could you call a doctors office one building over from where giant mech suits were stored normal.

Hound shifted on the examination table, wearing his working uniform, after all he was just on loan to MECHA from the army, as much as he might like it here.

Boots were shuffling through the hall and there were plenty of people talking outside, slowly he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. What he wouldn’t give to be back in his suit, it had been almost a month since it went in for the upgrades it would need for the Arcturus mission and pilot 2162 was covering his region. She was a fantastic pilot and doing her job well but he’d be more comfortable handling his region.

Then again, space wasn’t exactly his region and that’s where he’d be in a few months time. Sighing, he opened his eyes when there was a knock, “Come in.” The door opened and an older man came in, clipboard in hand and white coat swaying, “Oh thank god.” Hound sighed a bit and Ratchet looked up, rolling his eyes, “Third time I heard that today. Has Shockwave really gotten so bad you’d rather have my medical advice over his?” “Yes.” Ratchet rolled his eyes again.

Although Ratchet was a bio-engineer by trade, he did get his nursing degree before that, which was better than Shockwave and his medical school to any pilot.

“Alright, well, your chart looks good and your vitals are typical.” It was hard to define anything about a pilot with the quantifiable normal anymore, “Everything else is consistent, I understand they have taken you off your SSRI and ambien?” Nodding a bit, Hound shifts, “Yes sir.” Ratchet hummed and tapped his pen against the clipboard.

Shifting a bit, Hound clears his throat, “I’m feeling fine and sleeping well, my side effects have been limited.” Ratchet hummed again before pulling up the stool and sitting down, grabbing Hound’s wrist for a pulse reading, “Yet, your resting rate is high.” Hound couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yes sir.” Barely sparing him a scowl, Ratchet grabbed the ear and throat light.

They went through the motions, Hound responding to statements or answering questions and Ratchet kept referring back to the clipboard, scowling deeply before rolling backwards to look at Hound square on, “Why do you want to go to space Hound? Hmm?” Hound chuckled slightly, “What do you mean?” With a glare, Hound held his hands up.

Sighing, Hound shifts and fixes his shirt sleeve, “I want to end this damn war Ratchet, I mean look at me. Look at all the pilots, what we go through, what we put our bodies through. The sooner it's over the sooner we stop getting put through the blender.” Ratchet’s gaze softened, “Hound,” “I’m serious Ratchet, this shit isn’t removable and we’re pilots till we die or move up, most of us don’t want to move up.” Ratchet gave him a look and Hound sighed.

“Don’t you think I of all people know that the technology isn’t removable?” Nodding, Hound runs a hand through his hair, “Ratchet, the list of pilots grows every day and there is a longer list of dead ones than active ones.” They hardly could look at each other, but Ratchet sighs, “I don’t want to see your name on the longer list Hound.” Cracking a smile, Hound shrugs a bit, “Come on Ratchet, don’t you have some faith in me?” “In you, yes. In those lambo twins? Never.” Hound laughed.

The room shifted a bit, turning from bright to nearly dull, ”Now, can you shift your weight to the other side for me?” Shifting on the table, Hound sighs a bit, “Sure Ratchet.” Everything was coming back into focus now, no longer was the same doctor's office on Earth but an oversized medical tent.

“My name isn’t Ratchet,” “What?” Hound glances up and nearly startles at the sight of Knockout. Glancing around he cut the microphone to swear before turning it back on and clearing his throat, “Sorry, Knockout. Uh, Ratchet was my medic back on Earth. Has been since I became a pilot.” He nodded a bit awkwardly.

Humming, Knockout lifts up his tablet, “I’ll mark him down as your primary care then Even if he’s thirty lightyears from Cybertron.” Hound chuckled weakly and adjusted in his seat, shifting on the slab just enough, Knockout looks up, “Alright, base plating shows nothing, mind if I check the under plating?” It took a moment before Hound tilted his head slightly, “I’m sorry?” Knockout smiled, his smile even when kind was wicked looking.

He turned the tablet towards Hound, “Your under-plating, from Jazz’s schematic.” TO be fair, it almost looked similar to the blueprints for the suits back on Earth, but missing the cockpit entirely, “Do you mind if I take a look?” Shaking his head a bit, Hound shifted on the seat again, “Uh, no. Go ahead.” He cleared his throat as Knockout went around to the other side of him.

It was harder to not move when Knockout was behind him and prodding him, while pulling at his— at his suits plating.

“Alright, I’m going to be removing pieces to scan them, is that alright?” Hound shifted a bit, “From back there, yes, you won’t be near anything terribly vital.” Knockout hummed and gently started to pull the plating away with precision only a medic or engineer could have. Hound was still sitting perfectly still, leaned back against the piloting seat.

All of that had been disorientating, just another symptom, another side effect that he now had to deal with. Rolling his shoulder a bit, he sighs before getting the alert to the missing piece of plating, “You got it doc?” Knockout hummed again and activated his scanner.

It was quiet for a minute.

“What in the name of Primus is this?” Hound tried to shift to look but Knockout had moved away from the direct cameras and was holding his plating, gawking at it, “What?” Knockout came around and showed him a piece of his plating, which was stamped with ‘Property of the United States Government’, “I have a translator for written language, why does this proclaim the plating property of your government?” Hound stared at it, the stencil familiar and sprayed on most military machinery.

It was hard to explain why it was sprayed on the inside of his plating, “Uh,” Knockout nodded before storming out of the medical tent, shouting, “Lord Megatron!” And Hound stayed put.

He was still wracking his brain when both mechs came back in, Megatron was holding the piece of plating and had pretty well crushed it, taking a breath Megatron’s hands were shaking, “Why is this piece of plating attached to you?” Hound slowly sighed and nodded a bit, “It was a repair.” His voice was a little quiet, Megatron’s fist hit the wall, “Don’t you dare lie!” Hound jumped, he couldn’t help it.

They stayed in silence for a moment, Hound stared at the pair before deflating slightly, “It was a repair, but it’s part of being a pilot. The numbers across our chests, the paint, all of it is for identifying the pilot in the armor.” Megatron nodded slowly, “Armor?” “It’s not removable, not after the testing, but because I was a military pilot it is technically owned by the US government. Same as any materials I needed in the army.” Hound was recording the conversation and sending it to Jazz, it wasn’t the best of stories but he was no writer or actor.

Megatron moved over slowly, “So, these people own the plating you wear, put you through apparently incredibly painful testing, launched you into space without a way home, and expected you to die for data. Is that all correct?” Knockout leaned in, “They also reek of iron oxide, for a reason I have yet to find.” Hound’s implants itched, “That would be some of our lines, I’ll attend to the repair myself but it’s likely I have a small leak to my internal system.” Megatron threw his hands up before throwing the chunk of Hound’s plating across the room.

Wincing slightly, Hound sighed as Megatron turned back towards him, grasping his shoulders, “This was the other reason I wanted you in this unit, you don’t see your life beyond your so-called purpose and that is infuriating.” Sighing, Megatron pulled away before starting outside, “Mirage, get in here now!” For a second, Hound thought he heard a cube crack.

A second later the room went from being a medical tent to a get together just about, now Megatron, Knockout, and Mirage had joined Hound inside the tent. Sighing, Hound stood and rested his hands on his hips slightly, “What is this, an intervention?” Glancing at each other, Hound nodded slightly before starting out of the tent, “Now that the mystery of the rust is solved I’m going to get my internals to start patching the leak and get some sleep.” And he somehow made it out of there without being grabbed.

They barely had to spare a glance at each other, “Mirage, I want you to keep an eye on Hound.” Megatron’s voice was still rough with anger. Nodding, Mirage watched the mech go back over to where he’d been sitting and slump, turning off his visor, likely for fuel consumption while the internal repairs were happening, “Is he hurt?” He glances over at the two cons, frowning.

Both spare each other a look before Megatron shakes his head and Knockout shrugs, “We don’t know.” Mirage sighs slowly, “And how can he smell like rust if it’s not rust?” Knockout nods a bit and leans against the examination slab, “If what he says is true, it could simply be a mild corrosion of wires that have iron infused in them.” He shrugs weakly.

Mirage stared at where Hound was, before starting back out the medical tent and moving to sit next to the mech. His cube shattered on the ground but he really wasn’t hungry anymore.

Everyone was silent and staring, mostly worried about rust but also worried for Hound, you didn’t get visited by multiple people in medical at Knockout’s request unless you were dying. They were all sparing each other's looks, especially once Megatron and Knockout returned.

Knockout gave one glance around and swore, “It’s all clear you idiots, do you honestly think I’d let him back out here if it wasn’t?” Only a few people relaxed.

—

Bluestreak was sitting alone, the whole shuttle was lined with seats but he was sitting by himself. Maybe it was the big gun that he had leaning against his knee or the fact that most mecha wouldn’t normally be awake at this ungodly hour, while he seemed to have endless energy, but regardless Sunstreaker took the seat to his right with ease.

Glancing up, Bluestreak’s face lit up with a smile, “Hey.” Sunstreaker smiled a bit and sat back, adjusting in his seat, “Hey yourself.” Then he sent a private comm invite, which Bluestreak joined near instantly, “I’m gonna unplug from the suit, so it’s going to look like I’m asleep but I still wanted to talk.” The visual input from inside his suit was offered to Blue, who also accepted that.

His smile was small and Blue shifted to lean back as Sunstreaker seemingly fell asleep, leaning his helm against Bluestreak’s shoulder.

It took a second for Sunstreaker to get unplugged from his mech, removing the top part of his assistance suit and helmet before setting down near one of his internal microphones, “Can you hear me Blue?” Trying to hold back a smile, Bluestreak nodded slightly, “Yeah, I can hear you Sunny, I can see you too.” Sunstreaker smiled, “I wasn’t sure if that was going to work or not.” He brushed a hand through his curls, sighing.

Bluestreak sat silently, waiting for Sunstreaker to get comfortable, trying to keep the smile off his face, “You disconnect cause that overuse stuff going on?” Nodding some, Sunstreaker grabs a container of food, “Yeah, Hound’s orders. It’s just to try and alleviate the symptoms.” Blue hummed and rested his hand lightly on Sunstreaker’s suit, just above the knee, “So, are you going to get some rest?” Shaking his head, Sunstreaker chuckled and opened the makeshift container.

”Nah, I’m gonna eat my lunch and talk to you. Ask about my new boss and all.” Bluestreak tried not to wince, nodding a bit, “Right, Ironhide.” He sighs slowly and Sunstreaker smiles a bit, sipping some very vibrant blue broth which was just shy of being sweet, “He that bad?” Blue bit his lip, “Uh, well, it's not really that he’s bad per say.” He sighed slowly.

Sunstreaker shifted his attention to the screen right below the camera, “But?” Bluestreak groans a bit, “I don’t think it was a coincidence that you were paired with Ironhide and Sideswipe was paired with Elita-One. Even before the last war, they were, let's say, involved with military affairs. Then during it they were Optimus’s best commanders.” Sunstreaker sighs slowly, setting down his food, “It’s because we're civilians, right?” Blue gave a barely audible answer.

Barely glancing at the camera, Sunstreaker got up to pace a bit, “Is he a hard-ass?” Bluestreak chuckled, “I’m sorry?” Sunny smiles a bit, “Is he grumpy?” “Very.” Blue continues to chuckle, rubbing his neck a bit.

Whistling quietly, Sunstreaker shakes his head, “Damn, they were conspiring, huh?” Bluestreak shrugged a bit before clearing his throat, “Yeah, it would seem that way, but I think you got off better than Sideswipe did.” Sunstreaker glances at the screen, “Really?” Bluestreak hums, “Oh yeah, Elita is a little more rough around the edges especially to mechs over femmes. It’s not a thing but it’s about trust.” Nodding a bit, Sunstreaker hums.

Blue shifts a bit in his seat, adjusting Sunny on his shoulder, “Sideswipe is going to be fine though, it’ll probably be good for him.” Sunny nods for a moment before shaking his head, “No, he doesn’t take to authority well. So, Ironhide the grumpy hard-ass, so, what do I need to know about him?” Blue smiles and closes his eyes, leaning back, “I don’t even know where to start.” Sunstreaker smiles softly, “Maybe from the beginning?” Blue grinned.

“Ah well, I guess I could start with the old prime guard stories. Now, I wasn’t around for those. I wouldn’t come online for a few hundred stellar cycles at the very least.” Sunstreaker goes back to eating, smiling and nodding, sometimes it was just nice to be able to talk to someone or listen to someone without having to talk. He’d usually get that with Sideswipe but this was different and it made his smile turned from a nearly forced one to soft.

———

A/N

So, this was not what I had planned to post today then I got busy, so it is what was done.

That does mean, on Monday, I might not be posting Part 24 but something else… we will see.

Also a bit of Lore stuff cause I posted it in a comment of the last chapter, the implants as we all know are foreign objects to the human body which our pilots bodies are at present trying to reject. So the reaction is slightly autoimmune but they are also dealing with a shock to their n system as they encounter new bacteria on all these new planets they are going to. They have some anti-biotics but nothing is perfect.

Also if you saw what was at the bottom of that comment… ☺️

Tags:

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @dimencreasatlas @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @starscreamloverfr @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @blue-wrens @sirassban @astridkolch @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @osqindaxend @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscarpheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @pour1tin @thetrexartist

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU

#transformers #maccadam #the arcturus missions #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #mecha pilot jazz au #hound #sunstreaker #mirage #knockout #megatron #bluestreak

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winchesterwild78 · 2 days ago

Text

Daddy’s Girl pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: a little angst, lots of fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter starts out a little angsty and has some surprises along the way.

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days I still felt Dean’s uneasiness from his dream. He of course tried to hide it, but knowing him for as long as I have I know when he’s hiding something.

It was early in the morning when I woke up to an empty bed. Delilah was still sleeping. I stretched and grabbed my robe.

I found Dean in the kitchen. He looked exhausted and was nursing a cup of coffee. His green eyes flicked up to mine and he smiled softly.

“Hey baby. Want some coffee?” His voice was gruff and he sounded tired.

I nodded and grabbed a cup. As I walked past him I ran my hand over his shoulders.

“Dean, are you okay? You looked exhausted.” “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Dean, have you been sleeping at all? I go to bed alone, and when I wake up you’re already gone. Honey, please talk to me.” I placed my hands on his.

“I just can’t shake the dream from the other day. Everything I’ve ever loved, everyone I’ve loved ends up leaving or dying. I just wouldn’t survive if something happened to you or Delilah.”

“Oh Dean, we aren’t going anywhere. We have Jack and Cas on our side. Plus you’ve trained me well enough to take care of myself and her. Baby, you have got to get some sleep. You’re no good to us if you’re exhausted. Plus you get a little cranky.”

A smile formed on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at me. “You’re right. I’m going to go lay back down. Want to join me?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You and I both know if I go in there with you then neither of us are getting any sleep. Now you go in there and get some sleep. I’ll keep your little princess entertained while you sleep.” I kissed his lips and ushered him to bed.

About an hour later Delilah was awake and kept trying to sneak off to see Dean. “Delilah Rose, daddy is very tired. He needs sleep and we have to leave him alone.”

She stuck out her lip and pouted, “But I want to play with daddy. I miss him.” I chuckled, “Baby he won’t be asleep forever. He will wake up and the two of you can play then.”

She nodded and sat on the floor in the library. I walked in the kitchen to grab her something to drink and when I walked back to the library she was gone.

I sighed, I knew where she was. I caught her before she got the door open. I whispered, “Delilah! I told you to leave daddy alone.” “But I miss my daddy so much. I rolled my eyes, these two are insufferable.

“Delilah, what do you say we go to the park then go get stuff to make daddy an apple pie?” Her big green eyes sparkled and she nodded.

“Okay, go grab your shoes and coat.” She ran to her room and grabbed her shoes and coat, returning to me.

I helped her put them on. And I grabbed my coat. I left Dean a note on the kitchen counter and we left.

We went to the park and played for a little bit. I could tell Delilah was still a little sad. Her and Dean loved coming to the park. She played for a little while longer and I told her we needed to get to the store and then back home.

I reached for my phone and realized I didn’t have it. I sighed. It’s okay. I left him a note. He will be fine. He’ll give me crap about forgetting my phone, but he’s used to it.

Delilah and I went to the store and got the things we needed for the pie and headed towards the bunker.

When we got home Delilah bounded down the stairs. I found Dean having a panic attack in the library. When he saw us he jumped up and scooped up Delilah and grabbed me in his arms.

“Oh my god I was so worried about you two. You weren’t here when I got up, I couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer your phone. Why didn’t you answer your phone?!”

I saw the panic and tears in his eyes and it broke my heart. “Dean, honey. I left a note and I forgot my phone. I’m so sorry baby.” I pulled Delilah out of his arms, “Baby, go play in your room. Okay? I promise, Daddy is okay. He was just scared.”

Dean moved past me and went into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. He started sobbing. It broke my heart to see him. I placed my hand on his bicep, “Dean, baby. It’s okay, we’re okay. I took her to the park and then to the store.” “I’m sorry, Y/N. That dream just rocked me to my core. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you or her. You two are my life.”

I touched his face and he leaned into my palm. “Dean, I know what we need to do to help you move past this.” I closed my eyes and prayed. A few minutes later Jack appeared.

I stood and hugged him, “Hey Jack.” “Hello.” He smiled, then he saw Dean and his face fell.

“Dean is having a hard time right now. I figured he needed to hear from you. He had a dream that scared him the other day and he can’t shake it. He dreamed Delilah and I vanished and he couldn’t find us.”

“I see.” Jack said and looked over at Dean again. “How can I help?” “Can you reassure him we are going to be okay?” He smiled and walked over to Dean. “Y/N and Delilah are okay. They are not going anywhere. Well, Delilah will when she goes to college and gets married. She’s going to have two children and live a very long life. Y/N is going to have another baby in about a year and she is going to live a long life too. No demons, vampires or anything will hurt them. You have trained her well.”

Dean’s eyes looked at Jack and then over at me. “Wait, what? I’m going to have another baby?” “Oh yes, a little boy. He will be like Dean.” I chuckled. “Well then I’m a very lucky girl.”

I heard Dean let out a shaky breath. He hugged Jack and thanked him. Then he walked over to me and pulled me close, “I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean to worry you or Delilah.” “Dean, it’s okay. We know how much you love us, and you being scared and worried just proves it. Now where the heck did the note go that I left you?”

“Where did you leave it?” “On the counter in the kitchen.” The two of us walked in the kitchen, I carried the groceries I left in the war room. I didn’t see the note. Dean looked around and found it on the floor almost under the stove. “It must have blown off the counter.” I nodded, “I’m sorry. I promise not to forget my cell anymore. I guess this was just a perfect storm.” He nodded and pulled me in his arms.

“So, another baby, a boy?” I smiled, “I guess so. I wonder when he will be here. Jack said within the next year, so I guess we haven’t made him yet.”

Dean laughed, “Guess we need to get on that.” I playfully rolled my eyes. He kissed my lips softly and behind me I heard the sound of little feet. Dean smirked against my lips and pulled away.

We turned and saw Delilah peeking around the doorway. Dean bent down and held out his arms, “Come here my little pumpkin pie. I’m okay. I promise.” Delilah bounded into the kitchen and threw herself into his arms.

She had her favorite stuffy, a squirrel holding a baby squirrel and handed it to Dean. “To help you feel better daddy.” He took it with tears pricking his eyes. “Thank you baby girl, but your hugs always make me feel better.”

Dean wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly.

I walked up to them and hugged them both. “Okay you two, out of my kitchen. I have something to do here and you both will be in the way.” I chuckled. Dean and Delilah feigned hurt. “Ouch babe, I guess the two of us will leave you then.” They laughed as they left the room.

The next few days things settled down and Dean was sleeping better. He smiled more and couldn’t stop thinking or talking about us having another baby. “Maybe we should ask Jack when the baby is born.” Dean said early in the morning. I shook my head, “Dean, no. We will find out just like everyone else. Everyone who doesn’t have a direct line to Heaven.”

He sighed, “Oh come on. Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” I nodded, “Yes, but you’re driving me crazy with it. If you want to know, then you call Jack and ask him. I want it to be a surprise.” I kissed his lips and started to climb out of bed. Dean pulled me back down into his arms.

His lips on my neck as he held me flush to his chest. My back rested against him and his arms snaked around my body.

“Dean, we have to get up. You promised Delilah and daddy daughter day and you know she’s going to be up soon. What if she walks in here?”

Dean smirked and jumped out of bed, locking the door. A mischievous grin on his face, “There, problem solved.”

Dean climbed back in the bed and pulled my chest to his. “Now, where were we?” He started kissing my lips and down my neck. His hands trailed up my body and I arched my back, moaning.

About half an hour later Dean and I were tangled in the sheets, trying to steady our breathing. “Mmm, that was amazing.” I said laying against him with my head and hand on his chest.

“Aren’t you glad I locked the door.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I am. Now let’s get up so you can take our baby for her daddy daughter day.”

“Yeah, I have to show her what to expect from a man so she never settles for less.” I smirked, “Well, you’re doing an amazing job of that.” I kissed his lips and got out of bed, getting dressed I tossed Dean his clothes.

“Take a shower, I’ll get her up and ready.” He nodded and smiled, “Hey, Y/N?” I turned to face him, “Yes, Dean?” “I love you, Y/N.” I smiled, “I love you too, Dean. So much.”

An hour later Dean and Delilah were loading up in the Impala. He hooked her in her carseat and her legs swung back and forth as her giggles filled the backseat.

I kissed her head and kissed Dean goodbye. “You two have fun. Try not to eat too much junk and spoil your supper.” I winked at him. “We will try. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean. Be careful and I’ll see you two later.”

The Impala roared to life and I watched as the two of them drove away. I let out a breath and walked back into the bunker.

I went to the Dean cave and started to clean. I made my way into Delilah’s room and then mine and Dean’s. I decided to strip the beds and do some laundry.

I cleaned the bunker and pulled out a book to read. My phone rang as I sat down and saw it was Dean. I chuckled.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. We have a question for you.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“White or brown?”

I was confused. “What are you talking about? I need more context, Dean.”

He chuckled, “Just answer the question, white or brown?”

“Um, white?” “Okay, thanks sweetheart. We love you. Remember that.”

“Uhoh, what are you two up to?”

I heard Dean and Delilah giggle, “Nothing. We will be home soon.”

“Now I really am worried. I’ll see you two soon. Love you two.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Dean hung up and my curiosity piqued. What trouble could those two be up to now. I loved them going on daddy daughter dates, but sometimes they would get into mischief.

About thirty minutes later I heard the Impala pull into the garage. Dean and Delilah’s laughter filled the air.

I sat my book down and waited for them. Dean was carrying Delilah and they walked into the library.

“Hi Mommy. We’re back.”

“Hi baby. I see that. Did you and daddy have fun?”

Her green eyes twinkled, “The best. Daddy took me shopping and I got a new dress, then he took me to get ice cream and then we got you a surprise.”

I smiled. “Well I can’t wait to see your dress. I bet it’s beautiful.”

She smiled big, “Yes it is. It’s blue with stars on it. Daddy said I’m his angel so I needed a star dress.”

I looked over at Dean and he was grinning. She definitely has him wrapped around her finger.

“Mommy, are you ready for your surprise? We’re gonna give it to her now, right Daddy?” Dean nodded.

“Wait here mommy. Daddy and I will be right back.”

I smiled and my heart beat wildly. What were these two up to. Before Dean left the room to chase after her he looked at me and smiled, “Remember we love you and this is something we need.”

“Oh lord. I can’t imagine what it is.” He chuckled. “I’ll be back.” He kissed me and went back towards the garage.

I could hear Delilah’s giggles fill the air. I knew I was in trouble.

“Mommy, close your eyes please.”

“Okay baby. They are closed.”

I could hear her and Dean walk back into the room. Then I felt a heavy box on my lap.

“Okay open your eyes sweetheart.”

I opened them to find a big brown box on my lap. “Open the box mommy.”

Delilah squealed in delight.

I carefully lifted the lid. A little apprehensive of what was in the box. I gasped. I looked up at Dean and then at Delilah.

“Oh my goodness, are you serious?!” Dean grinned, “Yeah. We saw it and immediately thought about you.”

“Oh my gosh Dean. This is perfect.”

In the box looking up at me was a beautiful white terrier mix puppy with big blue eyes. I had one as a child and she got hit by a car. I had mentioned to Dean years ago how I always wanted one especially for Delilah.

I pulled the puppy out of the box and held her tight. “She’s beautiful, Dean and Delilah. Thank you.”

She was perfect and so sweet. Giving the best kisses and falling asleep on my lap. I lazily rubbed her head as I talked to Dean about a name.

“She needs a name. Something fitting.” Dean nodded. I looked at him and smirked, “I know. How about, baby?”

Dean looked at me and shook his head, “Nope. There’s only room for one baby in the family and she’s in the garage.” Delilah looked at Dean, “No daddy, it’s me.”

I laughed,”She’s got you there Dean.” He playfully rolled his eyes. “You’re my little pumpkin pie.”

“But I’m also your baby.” He nodded and pulled her in his lap, “You’ll always be my baby girl.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, “And you’ll always be my daddy.”

Dean’s smile grew.

“Okay guys, seriously we have to give this little girl a name.” I said holding the puppy.

Dean smirked, “What about, dog?”

I raised an eyebrow, “Uh no. Good thing we have to agree on our children’s names. Delilah might have ended up being named “girl”.” I laughed.

“Hey, I think I picked a beautiful name for our girl.” “Yes you did, Dean.”

“Well you said no to “baby” what about "Angel "?"

Dean looked at me and shook his head.

Delilah looked up from her coloring book, “Bubbles”.

Dean chuckled, “What? You can’t name a dog “Bubbles”.”

I looked at him and then at her. “It’s a great name, baby girl.”

“But daddy doesn’t like it.” She hung her head.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “No baby, mommy is right. It’s a great name.”

“You mean it daddy?” Her green eyes searching his. “Yes, I love it.”

“Yay! Can we call her Bubbles?”

I smiled and nodded. Dean just shook his head and sighed.

Delilah left to go take her coloring book and crayons in her room and I stood up with Bubbles and hugged Dean.

“See, I told you. She had you wrapped around your finger.”

“Don’t I know it. Now I have a dog named Bubbles. What kind of badass Hunter has a dog named Bubbles?!”

I laughed, “One who would do anything to make his little girl happy.”

I kissed his lips softly and walked towards the kitchen.

“We need to get some things for the dog. Like food, a bed, food and water bowl, and some toys.” I looked at Dean as I sat Bubbles down.

“Already taken care of. It’s in the car. I’ll go grab it.” I nodded.

As Dean made his way to the car he heard the tapping of paws behind him. Bubbles was following him.

“Bubbles, Jeez I can’t believe that’s your name. You have to go back inside. Don’t follow me.”

The dog turned her head like she was listening to him and sat down.

“Good, now stay.” Bubbles stood up and wagged her tail and as Dean walked she followed. Dean stopped and looked. Bubbles wagged her tail.

Dean shook his head. He walked to the car and got out the stuff he bought at the pet store. Bubbles followed behind.

He returned to the kitchen with his arms full. I chuckled when I saw Bubbles following closely behind him. “Looks like you’ve got a shadow.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah. I guess I just attract all the ladies.” He laughed.

I washed the bowls and filled them with food and water. Dean helped me figure out where to put her things, especially her food so she didn’t get in it.

I turned around to show her where her food was and she was gone.

I looked at Dean and we went looking for her. “Hey Delilah, have you seen Bubbles?” I asked as I approached her door. She shook her head no.

I continued looking when I heard Dean.

“Bubbles! No!” I ran to our room and saw Dean standing with one of his favorite flannels in his hand. It looked ripped. I bit my lip to stifle the giggle.

“She ate my shirt! My favorite shirt.” The giggle slipped out.

“Oh so this is funny?” I nodded, “Yeah a little. We just have to train her. She’s a baby, Dean.” “Well first thing tomorrow she’s going to training.”

I laughed, “Dean, you have to sign her up for the classes.”

“Well her and I will go and beg them to take her. I can’t have her eating all my clothes.” “Well, at least it wasn’t the leather in the car, or your favorite boots.”

His head spun and he looked at me and gasped, “Bite your tongue.” He looked at Bubbles who was wagging her tail at him with her tongue out, “And you better not get any ideas.” She barked and wagged her tail at him.

“Aww look at that, another girl already wrapped around your finger.” He scoffed.

Over the next few weeks we all fell into a comfortable rhythm with Bubbles and her training was going good. She had stopped chewing on things other than her toys and she was always by Dean’s side.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my burgundy shirt? I can’t find it anywhere.” I heard Dean call from the bedroom.

“The last I saw it was in the laundry pile when I washed clothes the other day. Check your closet.”

“I did, it’s not in there.” I walked towards the laundry room, maybe it was hanging in there. I looked and couldn’t find it.

“Sorry babe, I can’t find it. I don’t know where it is.”

“This is weird. I’m missing some shirts, some socks and I can’t find my old leather jacket.” “That is weird. I’ll see if I can help you find them.”

We searched everywhere. Checking the garage, the laundry room, the bathrooms, our room, then I walked into Delilah’s room.

I noticed something sticking out from under her pillow. I lifted her pillow and found one of Dean’s missing t-shirts. I chuckled, “Hey Dean, can you come here please.”

Dean walked to the door, “What’s up?” “Look.” I showed him his shirt and he smiled. He shrugged, “What can I say the girl loves me.” “Yes she does.”

We searched her room for the other things that were missing but couldn’t find them.

“I was sure we would find the rest of the stuff in her room. Let’s check the Dean cave. Maybe you took your jacket off in there.”

We went to the room and started searching, not finding anything. I looked over and noticed Bubbles’ bed was missing. “Dean, where is Bubbles’ bed?” “It was right there.” He pointed to the now empty spot.

“Okay, this is weird. You’re missing things and now her bed is gone.”

I walked around to the side of the couch that was close to the wall. I looked down and chuckled.

“Dean, come here.” He walked over and looked down. There between the couch and the wall was Bubbles. Curled in a ball, laying on her bed and a pile of Dean’s shirts, socks and his jacket.

He sighed, “So she’s not chewing on my stuff, she’s taking it now.” “It’s because it has your scent, Dean. You’re her person.”

“Well can’t I be her person without her taking my stuff?” He chuckled. When he laughed Bubbles stretched and looked up and saw him. She wagged her tail and leaped up.

He scooped her up and she started licking his face. I laughed “You know it’s only fair Bubbles took your shirts. Delilah and I both have your shirts and you’re our person, so she needs something too.”

“At this rate I won’t have any clothes left.” I laughed. I bent down and started to gather his stuff out of her bed. She looked at me and whimpered.

Dean looked at me and at Bubbles, “Leave that one.” He nodded towards an old green shirt he wears when he works on Baby. I smiled and nodded. I put it back in her bed and she snuggled to Dean.

I placed a kiss on his lips and pet Bubbles.

A few hours later Dean, Delilah, Bubbles and I were snuggled on the couch watching Frozen, again. I was sitting on Dean’s right side, Delilah was snuggled to this left and Bubbles was asleep in his lap.

I looked over in the middle of the movie and saw the three of them fast asleep. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over them. I pulled one over me and snuggled back to Dean. Looking over at my family I thought how incredibly blessed I was to have Dean and Delilah. I couldn’t wait to add our baby boy to our family. He will fit in perfectly and will complete our little family.

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