#I want you all to know that this train of thought came out of a day dream where Lilith gets captured Trazyn and starts hissing at Clonegrim

[cowboysandcigarettes]

JUNO

summary; watching dean work with some kids on a case leads you to an interesting realization.

warnings! established relationship, canon-typical violence, talk of pregnancy, smut!, praise kink, breeding kink (oops), soft sex, but it kinda unintentionally turned nasty, unprotected p in v (stay safe!)

CASES WITH KIDS WERE ALWAYS HARD. you had a soft spot for kids, especially little ones, even with their sticky fingers and clingy hands.

you had always thought about having kids, but once you became a hunter, you threw that idea out the window. hunting was no life to raise a kid in, god knows you only barely survived in your late teens.

when you met dean, you fell fast and you fell hard. it was difficult to resist his charms and good looks, but your case of lovesickness only grew as you and the elder winchester grew closer. he slowly opened up to you, allowing you to peel back the layers of toughness and defense that he had built up over the years, letting you see the real him.

that only made you fall more in love.

luckily, the feeling was mutual, for as soon as dean had set eyes on you, he was gone. he instantly knew you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, and as soon as you opened your pink lips to greet him─cussing him out for hijacking your hunt actually─he was completely done for.

neither of you had said anything for a long time, letting the feelings and tension build up over the years until it all came to a boiling point after a hunt almost gone wrong. you had barely had time to take a breath after almost dying before dean's roughened hands were on your face, grabbing you and crashing your lips to his.

you had been together ever since, and although the thought of having kids occasionally popped in your head, you figured dean would never want that. he was a hunter through and through, he could never leave the life, and if you were to have a kid, you could never raise them the way you and him had been raised.

so you pushed those dreams deep down, happy to live your chaotic life with dean, content with just the two of you.

but then you ended up in oregon.

♡ ♡ ♡

the case was a pain in the ass, a couple of rogue vampires taking kids, 'training' them to become a part of their nest.

finding the bloodsuckers was easy enough, they had been holing up in some old farmhouse off the highway, posing as new townsfolk and greeting the neighbors to scout their next victims. it only took the boys and you a day to find the farmhouse and pile into the impala, rumbling off to save the day once again.

the three of you had charged in after a quick surveillance, machetes in hand and dead man's blood at the ready as you crept in, trying not to wake the vamps. unfortunately, they were still up and at 'em, and suddenly ambushed the three of you before you could even process it.

there was only two of them and three of you, but with their enhanced strength and skills, it was pretty much a fair fight. sam and you had been fighting off one of them, dean grappling with the other, when the situation had grown more complicated.

the fight managed to be pushed into one of the other backrooms of the farmhouse, which just happened to be where the vamps were holding the kids. you noticed first, telling sam and calling out to dean before swiftly turning back to your own fight.

"i got 'em!" he calls back, kicking his vamp straight in the chest and sprinting over to where the three kids were tied up, tears streaking down their dirt covered faces.

you manage to get the jump on your own opponent, knocking the monster down. movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you look up to see the vamp dean had been fighting pushing himself up from the ground, fangs bared and snarling at dean, whose back was turned as he untied the kids.

"hey, ugly!" you call, a quick nod from sam assuring you that he had the other creature handled. the one snarling at dean turned in your direction, pausing for a moment before his lips curled again, baring his rows of sharp, deadly teeth at you. you just gripped your machete tighter, bracing yourself in a fighting position. "come and get it."

the creature hissed and charged at you, but you were one step ahead. you noted the flimsy floorboard in front of you and you waited until he was a few steps away before raising your machete over your head, bringing it down hard on the shaky board.

the impact of the blade further destabilized the wood, and as you stepped back, the vamp stepped on that floorboard, his leg crashing through, leaving him stuck. he cried out and growled, hissing and flailing his hands around, trying to reach for you, but before he could even call out to his buddy, you raised your machete again, swinging it around and cutting the bloodsucker's head clean off.

the creature's skull thudded against the wood as it fell, and you stood there for a moment, catching your breath before you lifted your head, trying to find sam. a proud grin spreads across your face as you see him standing at the foot of the other vamp, it's head cut off just like the other one. he meets your gaze, and you both turn to head towards the exit, cleaning off your machetes on some nearby hay bales.

you walk behind sam to the impala, pleased to have come out of the farmhouse with minimal blood staining your skin and clothes. you hear dean's voice before you see him, and as you round the car to greet him, you cut yourself off as you take in the scene in front of you.

the three children are leaning against the door of the imapala, their heads barely reaching the bottom of the window, faces dirt stained and tear streaked. the sight would break your heart if you weren't so distracted by dean, who was crouching in front of them, an easy, comforting smile on his lips as he spoke to them softly.

"see? i told you we'd get 'em for you," he tells them, and the gentle tone of his voice makes you melt a little. "you guys were so brave, doin' exactly as i said and helping each other get out. you guys are real superheroes."

the little boy in the middle, the youngest of the three, looks at dean with wide eyes, still glistening with tears, but there's no more trace of sadness other than the tear tracks on his dusty cheeks. "like batman?" he asks, his small voice slightly wobbly.

dean grins wider at that, and you can practically see the sparks in his eyes as he nods at the little boy. "hell yeah, exactly like batman," he assured the boy. "he'd be so proud of how brave you were, all of you. i mean seriously, i was so scared, but you guys were totally badass."

all three of the children's faces lit up at that, the two girls on either side of the little boy looking at each other and giggling softly before looking back at dean.

he pretended to be confused, cocking his head and looking between the two girls. "what's so funny?" he asks, his lips twitching as he fights off a smile.

"you said a bad word," the girl on the left says, giggling at dean's face.

dean pretends to be offended, quipping something back at the girl to make all three of them laugh again, but you don't hear what, because suddenly you're picturing doing that with another kid.

your kid.

images flash through your head of dean, a little girl in his arms, a sweet smile on his lips as he rocks her gently. dean and a boy with his eyes and your hair standing side by side as he teaches him how to fix up the impala. you and dean side by side as you watch the milestones of your child's life, the look in dean's eyes as he holds them for the first time.

you bite your lip as you watch him with the kids, your heart warming in your chest. but the heat doesn't stop there, it travels through your chest, pooling quickly in your core as you suddenly picture yourself pregnant, dean's hands on your stomach, your sensitive breasts, hips and all over as he takes care of you.

the movement of dean standing up snaps you out of your fantasy, and with a soft smile, you help him and sam load the kids into the impala, offering to sit with them in the back, dean driving and sam in the passenger seat.

the drive back into town wasn't short, but you honestly were content to sit in the car for a couple hours as the kids eagerly conversed with you. they were smart, and you were surprised at their range of vocabulary as they told you about themselves.

you learned that the two girls were sisters, maia and ruby, that they were six and eight, and had a cat named max that they loved to death. the little boy's name was logan, and he didn't talk as much, oddly staying quiet as the girls chatted away at you, but once they turned into talking amongst themselves, he started telling you about all of his favorite superheroes.

eventually, exhaustion dragged the poor kids under, maia and ruby curling into each other, your heart warming when you felt the weight of logan's body leaning into yours. you let him lean against you, gently lifting your arm and resting it over his shoulder, holding him to you.

not so long into his slumber however, logan began to squirm against you, catching your attention as a small, heartbreaking cry left his lips. the poor boy was having a nightmare.

gently, you gripped his shoulders, squeezing lightly as you tried to wake him up. "hey, shh, hey, logan it's okay," you whisper, your heart clenching as another soft cry leaves his lips.

dean's eyes snap to you in the rear view mirror, the cry breaking his concentration on the road. "he okay?"

"he's having a nightmare," you say, meeting dean's eyes for a second, before a pained gasp draws your attention back to the boy next to you. his eyes snap open, brimming with tears as they meet yours, his trembling lips parted like he's trying to say something, but nothing comes out. "hey, hey, buddy, it's okay, you're okay."

you're shocked when he suddenly surges forward, crashing into you with a sniffle. as soon as he does though, your instincts kick in, your arms wrapping tightly around him, one hand cupping the back of his head to you as you shush him softly.

"shh, s'alright honey, you're safe, you're okay," you whisper, tilting your head down to press a kiss to the top of his head, continuing to murmur soft reassurances into his slightly matted hair.

what you didn't see was dean watching you in the rear view mirror. his eyes stayed glued on you and the little boy until he absolutely had to look back at the road, doing so just long enough that he didn't crash, then his gaze returned to you.

something about seeing you with the kids, the way you interacted with and entertained them the whole ride, and especially now, watching you hold and care for this little boy you didn't even know, it did something to him. it started with a pull in his chest, squeezing at his heart, but it moved lower and lower, sparking a heat in his stomach as images flashed in his mind.

you, barefoot and your soft stomach swollen as you grew his child inside of you. you, holding his child in your arms, just like you're doing to little logan right now. a life out of hunting, the life he's always secretly dreamed of, white picket fence and all. dean thinks about how you'd feel, the way your body would change, how he'd be able to mold it with his hands, how sensitive you'd be as he drags his fingers over your skin, up to your chest, making you moan his name.

he's abruptly brought out of his thoughts as a soft melody reaches his ears. he lifts his eyes to the mirror again, and he swears if he was standing up, he would've swooned.

you've got the little boy cradled to your chest, one of your hands cupping the back of his head to hold him to you as you rock gently, your lips pressed to his head, but he can still hear your soft voice.

singing.

dean had never heard you sing before, but he decided then and there that screw his pride, he was gonna ask you to sing for him.

later, after maia and ruby had been dropped off, not going before giving dean a crushing hug, the impala rumbled over to the other side of town to logan's house.

you hoisted the sleeping boy higher in your arms, holding him securely against your chest and covering the back of his head as you step out of the impala, nodding to sam and dean in silent assurance before walking up to the small house.

dean just watched you through the window, his eyes glued to you as you knocked on the door, careful not to wake logan. his anxious tapping of the steering wheel slows to a stop, a contrast to the beat of his heart, which rapidly speeds up as the front door opens, his eyes glued to you as the hysterical parents graciously thank you. his gaze never leaves you, eyes zeroed in on you as you hand over the sleeping boy, his racing heart swelling as you smile at them, leaning down to press one last kiss to the sleeping boy's head before bidding them goodbye.

sam clears his throat next to him, snapping dean out of his daze as you turn to head back to where they wait in the impala. dean tears his eyes from you to glare at sam, who has a knowing smirk on his face.

"what?" dean snaps, a flush crawling up his neck at being caught staring at you.

"nothing," sam replies, shrugging nonchalantly, but the smirk never leaves his face. "just never figured you were the type."

"type?" dean asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. "type to what?"

sam opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't get the chance to as you open the door of the impala, swiftly sliding into the backseat pausing at the looks on the brothers faces.

"am i interrupting something?" you ask, raising your eyebrows as you look between them.

the brothers share a look, doing their silent telepathy trick that you've never understood, but then dean is clearing his throat and starting the car, eyes focused through the window as he pulls out of the driveway. "nope, just ready to get back to the motel," he responds curtly, and you can sense there's more to it, but you don't pry.

the ride back to the motel is silent except for the soft hum of the radio in the background, but you don't mind. all you can focus on anyways if getting dean alone in your motel room.

when you finally do arrive, you practically drag him out of the car, ignoring sam's roll of his eyes as you hastily unlock the motel room, stumbling in with more force then necessary and closing it behind you.

"what's the rush?" dean questions, the signature winchester smirk on his lips as he shrugs off his jacket and flannel, tossing them onto a nearby chair. "didn't know you got hot and bothered over killin' vamps."

you normally would respond with a roll of your eyes, quipping something back at him, but right now you're too focused the way his plain black t shirt is stretched over his chest, his biceps practically bulging in the sleeves making you almost salivate. you bite your lip as your eyes rake over him, lingering on his arms as the images of him gently cradling your child creep back into your head, making a familiar heat curl in your stomach.

he notices the lack of response, taking a step closer to you, ducking his head slightly to try and meet your gaze. "uh, hello? you gonna tell me what's got you all worked up or are you just gonna keep starin' at me like i'm a fresh piece o' pie?" he asks, snapping you out of your daze, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

your face heats up, a flush painting your cheeks as you avert your gaze sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at the thoughts running through your head.

"s'nothing," you mumble, dropping your eyes to your feet, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

dean tuts at you, stepping closer, close enough that the tips of his boots come into view where your eyes are stuck on the ground. "ain't nothin' if it's got you flustered like this, sweetheart," he drawls, lifting a hand to your chin, cupping it and raising your head to meet his gaze. "so, i'll ask again. what's got my girl all worked up?"

you bite your lip again, your thighs involuntarily clenching together at the low timbre of his voice, the heat in your core starting to outweigh your pride. "i just..." you start, feeling the anxiety bubble up in your chest as you start to ramble. "you were really good with the kids today and i know its stupid, and i know you don't want kids but i saw you with them and it just really got me goin' for some reason and-"

"woah, woah," dean cuts you off, both of his hands moving to cup your cheeks, keeping your eyes focused on his, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently like he could slow your rapid heartbeat through your skin. "slow down, baby, take a breath."

he just stares at you for a moment and you get the hint, taking in a slow breath, exhaling and letting some of the tension flow from your body. "good girl," he murmurs, tucking some of your hair behind your ear gently. "so, from what i heard, you are all worked up, thighs clenchin' and everything because of watchin' me with the kids?"

you don't answer with words, anxiety too tight in your throat as heat creeps up your neck, so you just nod your head in his hands.

"use your words, pretty girl," dean corrects, but there's something deeper in his voice, and you swear you can see his eyes darken as his grip on your face tightens just slightly.

"yes," you breathe out, swiping your tongue over your dry lips before pulling the bottom one between your teeth.

"oh, that's it, huh?" he asks, his voice lowering to a rumble that sends a shiver up your spine. "you wanna make me a daddy? let me fill you up and make you a mama?"

your eyes widen in surprise at his reaction, and you feel a flood of arousal drench your panties, making you clench your thighs together harder. the shock of his words wears off as he squeezes your cheeks a little tighter, urging you to answer him.

a strangled whine leaves your throat at the images his words create in your lust-hazed brain, and when you nod in his grip, a groan leaves his lips, his pupils dilating so much there's only a ring of shining evergreen around them.

"shit, babygirl, you have no idea what that does to me.." he growls, one of his hands slipping from your cheek to grip your hip tightly. he pulls you flush against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, along with the hardness that is pressed into your stomach, making your knees weak. "i was thinkin' the same about you all damn night long."

"you were?" you ask, your voice turning into more of a squeak when he dips his head down to nip at your neck.

"uh huh," dean mumbles into your skin, sucking on your pulse point so hard you swear stars flash behind your eyes. "just the way you interacted with the kids, when logan had that nightmare...all the sudden i just pictured you, all barefoot 'n round with my kid."

you whimper at the image, your eyes slipping shut as his hands drag down to the hem of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before pulling back enough to tear it over your head, tossing it who knows where before diving back down to btie at your neck.

"dean..." you moan breathlessly, back arching to give him more access as he trails his hands up to deftly unclip your bra, sliding the straps down your shoulders.

"that what you want?" he growls your name, the heat in his voice so intense you suddenly feel dizzy. "you want me to fill you up? fuck you so deep it sticks, then you can go around tellin' everyone it was me who knocked you up?"

you nod desperately, grinding your hips into him, groaning in frustration when you get no friction. "yes, god yes," you pant, gripping his shoulders to push him back from you enough to look him in the eyes. "please-"

that was all it took for the last of his resolve to break.

the next few moments were a blur of belt buckles and buttons as you both tugged at each others clothes, ripping them off and tossing them onto the floor of the now disheveled motel room. eventually, you both landed on the bed, now bare to each other, dean falling on top of you and immediately crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

you moan into his mouth, arching your back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up into him. the what between your thighs was too much now, an almost painful ache that only worsened when his hands slipped down to grab your grinding hips, pinning them firmly to the mattress.

"dean-" you start to whine when he pulls away from ravaging your mouth, but he cuts you off with another fierce kiss, stealing your breath away before he pulls back again, his eyes burning as they took you in.

"jesus christ," dean murmurs your name, his gaze raking down your flushed skin, lingering on your heaving chest before landing on the now sticky mess between your legs. "you've got no idea what you do to me, pretty girl."

"please dean," you whine, hips wiggling under his grip. when he doesn't acknowledge your plea, your hands drag up his shoulders to tightly tangle in the short strands of his hair, tugging until his eyes are on yours. "fuck me, please."

if possible, dean's eyes darken further, the jade that you love so much almost completely consumed by lust blown black, the sight making your thighs tighten around his hips.

"can't refuse my girl, now can i?" he pants, one of his hands leaving your hip to pump himself a few times before he lines himself up with your sopping entrance. your breath hitches as his leaking head notches at your hole, fingers digging into his scalp. it only seems to spur him on, a deep groan reverberating in his chest before he pushes into you, low moans leaving you both at the feeling. "fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good."

your jaw goes slack, your eyes going hooded as he fills you to the brim, your body hyper aware of every ridge and vein as his cock settles in your clenching walls. you both stay still for a moment, getting used to the feel of each other, before the ache in your core starts to build again.

"move, dean, move, please," you whimper, opening your heavy eyes to meet his, wriggling your hips under him.

he groans, nodding before dropping his forehead to yours, his breath fanning over your lips. he's still not moving, and you open your mouth to beg him again, but before you can say a word, he pulls out almost all the way, gripping your hips tightly, then slams back into you, hard.

you cry out, your back arching as your hands move to grip his shoulders for dear life, your nails leaving red crescent shapes in their wake. he doesn't give you time to recover before he's doing it again, then again, and again, until he's building a steady pace that has your legs wrapping tightly around his waist, your toes curling in the air.

"oh fuck- dean-" you choke, words cut off as a particularly harsh thrust has his tip ramming into your cervix with so much force that your vision goes black for a second.

"shit, yeah..yeah that's it, pretty girl," dean grunts in response, the force of his thrusts causing his nose to bump yours, your foreheads still pressed together. "let me feel ya, squeeze this pretty pussy 'round me till she gushes all over my cock."

his filthy words only push you closer to the edge, your nails dragging down his back, making him groan. "fuck, fuck," you gasp as he rubs against that sweet, gummy spot inside you, your back arching as the coil in your stomach tightens.

"mhm, right there, baby?" he growls, his words almost a coo as he angles his hips to hit that sensitive spot with each thrust. "yeah, that's it right there. c'mon, you're so close, aren't ya, pretty girl?"

you nod, clenching your eyes shut as his thrusts punch broken whines and whimpers from you, leaving you breathless. a sharp slap to your thigh has your eyes flying open, a small yelp leaving you at the stinging contact.

"eyes on me, baby," he demands, and you oblige, your mouth hanging open as you continue to fly towards the edge. "atta girl, there you go. such a naughty fuckin' girl, gettin' wet 'cause all you wanted was my cock in you, fillin' you with my cum 'til it sticks. that's what you want, isn't it, baby? to be full of my cum, waiting 'til it sticks, then being full 'n round with my kid?"

all you can do is moan, the harsh movements of his hips and the way his tip his hitting the tip of your cervix perfectly succeeding in fucking you dumb.

"yeah, that's what i thought," dean mumbles, tilting his head to nip at your bottom lip, slipping one hand between your sweat slicked bodies to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. "cum for me, baby, squeeze my cock 'til there's nothing left, ya know you want it. c'mon mama, give it to me."

the nickname is what pushes you over the edge with a scream that you think is his name, but you're too far gone to really know. your mind goes blank as your orgasm crashes over you in white hot pleasure, back arching and legs shaking.

somewhere in the back of your hazy mind, you hear dean groan your name, and you can feel his sticky release painting your insides, the warmth making your toes curl and legs shake as you come down.

when you start to regain some of your senses, dean's head is buried in your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he brings himself back down to earth. his rough hands run soothingly up and down your sides, sliding down to your trembling thighs.

after a moment, the room silent except for the both of yours heavy pants, dean speaks up, his voice slightly hoarse.

"goddamn, babygirl, 'f i knew me knockin' you up got you so turned on i would've brought it up a long time ago," he mutters into your neck, pulling a tired laugh from your lungs.

you sigh softly, head falling back against the bed as you try to bring your heartbeat down, his words ringing in your head. "thought you didn't want kids," you mumble in response, your hands stroking gently along his back, soothing the marks you made.

"i-" dean starts, but cuts himself off, pausing for a moment before he lifts his head from your sweaty skin to look down at you. one of his hands comes up, brushing some of your damp hair away from your eyes, his thumb lingering as he brushes the digit gently over your brow. "i didn't, not really. not until you."

the words steal the breath from your lungs again, your eyes widening slightly as you stare up at him. you search his expression for any sort of insincerity, but all you find is a look of love so intense you feel like he's tearing your heart straight from your chest. "not until me?" you ask, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

"not until you," he repeats, his words soft. he stares at you for a moment before sighing, tilting his head as he continue to admire you. "i never thought i would get a chance at the apple pie life, hell i didn't even really want to think about it, but then i met you, and everything changed."

his words, so heartfelt and so real, leave you speechless, your heart still pounding in your chest as you stared up at him in awe.

"you make me want all of those things, make me think i actually might deserve them," he continues, his thumb still brushing softly at your skin. "and i know we haven't...officially talked about it, but i love you, and if it really is somethin' you want, there's no one else i'd rather start a family with. if-if that's what you want, 'f course."

you don't even hesitate before you answer, a smile pulling at your lips. "yes," you breathe out, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. "there's no one i'd rather do it with."

a grin lights up dean's face, a look of boyish joy highlighting his features. without responding first, he grabs your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks and peppering kisses all over your heated face, making you giggle.

"you have no idea how damn happy that makes me," he mumbles between kisses, pressing on last, lingering kiss to your lips before dipping his head again, burrowing into your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you. "you're gonna be the best mama."

you laugh softly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you wrap your arms around him in return. "we gotta get cleaned up first, then we'll continue this conversation," you mutter into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, but he just grumbles, burying his face further in your neck.

"later," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your pulse point, content with just holding you in his arms. "just wanna stay here."

"okay," you whisper into his hair, relaxing into his hold. "we can stay here."

dean hums into your neck, and you can feel him smile against your skin, making your heart skip a beat in your chest. you knew it wasn't going to be easy, getting out of the life never was, hell just living as hunters wasn't easy, and raising a kid was gonna be harder. but you knew that you had dean, and in the end, that's all that mattered.

he was all that mattered.

bri's thoughts! bri write a position that isn't missionary challenge: fail. (i'm sorry i'm basic i crave intimacy) okay so here it is! finally actually finished something (the 50 unfinished works in my drafts are screaming at me rn) and now i'm gonna go to bed and dream about being on snl because it is my current obsession, especially after the 50th anniversary episode, which i recommend everybody watch! so i won't shut up about that but anyways, here this finally!

tags! @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @titsout4jackles @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @flormpus @star-yawnznn @Jaredpadonlyyyy @grangerously @dclover27 @chronic-fangirl-222 @stevesxwhore @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakingdom

[pscottm]

Well Operation Save America came, they saw, they harassed, and they annoyed; but they did not close the clinic. The clinic stayed open, no patients were turned away, and the doors never closed. We remain victorious. And that victory is a good thing – but, make no mistake, even though OSA has gone home; our work is not done.

If we were to leave this park and discover that clinic violence had become a thing of the past, never to plague us again, that would be a very good thing, indeed; but, still, our work would not be done.

If we were to find that, while we were here, Congress had acted to insure that abortion would always be legal, that would be a very good thing; but our work would not be done.

If we were suddenly to find a host of trained providers, insuring access in every city, town, village, and military base throughout the world, that would be a very good thing; but our work would not be done.

When every woman has everything she needs to make an informed, thoughtful choice, and to act upon it, we will be very close; but, still, our work will not be done.

As long as women, acting as responsible moral agents, taking responsibility for their own lives and for those who depend on them, have to contend with guilt and shame, have judgment and contempt heaped upon them, rather than the support and respect they deserve, our work is not done.

How will we know when our work is done? I suspect we’ll know it when we see it. But let me give you some sure indicators that it isn’t done yet:

- When doctors and pharmacists try to opt out of providing medical care, claiming it���s an act of conscience, our work is not done.

Let me say a bit more about that, because the religious community has long been an advocate of taking principled stands of conscience – even when such stands require civil disobedience. We’ve supported conscientious objectors, the Underground Railroad, freedom riders, sanctuary seekers, and anti-apartheid protestors. We support people who put their freedom and safety at risk for principles they believe in.

But let’s be clear, there’s a world of difference between those who engage in such civil disobedience, and pay the price, and doctors and pharmacists who insist that the rest of the world reorder itself to protect their consciences – that others pay the price for their principles.

This isn’t particularly complicated. If your conscience forbids you to carry arms, don’t join the military or become a police officer. If you have qualms about animal experimentation, think hard before choosing to go into medical research. And, if you’re not prepared to provide the full range of reproductive health care (or prescriptions) to any woman who needs it then don’t go into obstetrics and gynecology, or internal or emergency medicine, or pharmacology. Choose another field! We’ll respect your consciences when you begin to take responsibility for them.

- Here’s another sign. Did you notice the arguments that were being shouted at us in front of the clinic? They’ve been trying for years, and seem to be pushing especially hard now, to position themselves as feminists – supporters of women. You heard them – yelling that they understand that it’s all men’s fault. That men must do better at supporting women and children so that women, presumably, won’t feel the need to abort. They yelled that they understood that the women going into the clinic had been hurt by men and were reacting to that pain and betrayal. They pledged to help men be more responsible so that women wouldn’t want abortions.

Let me tell you something. Any argument that puts men alone at the center – for good or for bad -- any discussion of women’s reproductive health that ends up being all about men, is not feminism. Nor, for that matter, is it Christian, or reflective of any God I recognize. And as long as anyone can even imagine such an argument, our work is not done.

- And while we’re at it, as long as a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States can argue, as Justice Kennedy recently did, that women are not capable of making our own informed moral decisions, that we need men to help us so that we won’t make mistakes that we later regret; as long as a Supreme Court Justice can deny the moral agency of women simply because we are women – and can do it without being laughed off the public stage forever – our work is not done. What has happened to us that he could even think he could get away with publishing such an opinion? Our work most certainly is not done.

- Finally, the last sign I want to identify relates to my fellow clergy. Too often even those who support us can be heard talking about abortion as a tragedy. Let’s be very clear about this.

When a woman finds herself pregnant due to violence and chooses an abortion, it is the violence that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman finds that the fetus she is carrying has anomalies incompatible with life, that it will not live and that she requires an abortion – often a late-term abortion – to protect her life, her health, or her fertility, it is the shattering of her hopes and dreams for that pregnancy that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman wants a child but can’t afford one because she hasn’t the education necessary for a sustainable job, or access to health care, or day care, or adequate food, it is the abysmal priorities of our nation, the lack of social supports, the absence of justice that are the tragedies; the abortion is a blessing.

And when a woman becomes pregnant within a loving, supportive, respectful relationship; has every option open to her; decides she does not wish to bear a child; and has access to a safe, affordable abortion – there is not a tragedy in sight -- only blessing. The ability to enjoy God’s good gift of sexuality without compromising one’s education, life’s work, or ability to put to use God’s gifts and call is simply blessing.

These are the two things I want you, please, to remember – abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Let me hear you say it: abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done.

I want to thank all of you who protect this blessing – who do this work every day: the health care providers, doctors, nurses, technicians, receptionists, who put your lives on the line to care for others (you are heroes -- in my eyes, you are saints); the escorts and the activists; the lobbyists and the clinic defenders; all of you. You’re engaged in holy work.

Thank you for allowing me to join you in that work for a few days here in Alabama. God bless you all.

Abortion isn’t the lesser of two evils–it is a just and good thing. So says Reverend Katherine Ragsdale:

Let’s be very clear about this: when a woman finds herself pregnant due to violence and chooses an abortion, it is the violence that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman finds that the fetus she is carrying has anomalies incompatible with life, that it will not live and that she requires an abortion — often a late-term abortion — to protect her life, her health, or her fertility, it is the shattering of her hopes and dreams for that pregnancy that is the tragedy; the abortion is a blessing.

When a woman wants a child but can’t afford one because she hasn’t the education necessary for a sustainable job, or access to health care, or day care, or adequate food, it is the abysmal priorities of our nation, the lack of social supports, the absence of justice that are the tragedies; the abortion is a blessing.

And when a woman becomes pregnant within a loving, supportive, respectful relationship; has every option open to her; decides she does not wish to bear a child; and has access to a safe, affordable abortion — there is not a tragedy in sight — only blessing. The ability to enjoy God’s good gift of sexuality without compromising one’s education, life’s work, or ability to put to use God’s gifts and call is simply blessing.

These are the two things I want you, please, to remember — abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Let me hear you say it: abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done. Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done.

What really impresses me about Ragsdale is this bit:

The idea that abortion kills a child, she contends, reflects parental hopes and dreams for the child-to-be, not the reality of what the zygote or fetus actually is. (It is, in her words, “proleptic,” a theological term for anticipated realities that come to be treated as extant in the here and now.)

When pro-choice forces signal their partial acceptance of the abortion-as-child-murder idea, says Ragsdale — which they do when they speak of the “tragedy” of abortion — they may be motivated by political concerns, or by a desire to be respectful and conciliatory. But in the process, they’re ceding precious intellectual ground to abortion opponents, and backing themselves into a tactical corner: how, after all, can you effectively defend something for which you’re simultaneously apologizing?

What’s more, they’re also increasing the likelihood that women who do choose to have abortions will spend their lives tormented by needless guilt. “I suppose it’s possible for an intelligent, faithful person to still believe that there’s no moral difference between a zygote and a baby,” Ragsdale allows. “But there’s no reason for most of us to believe that. And I don’t.”

…”If you want a baby,” says Ragsdale, “and you’ve decorated the nursery, and bought the toys, and named the baby — and then they discover the baby’s organs are growing outside the body, and not only will the baby not survive, but the woman will be torn up trying to deliver it — there’s a tragedy. But the tragedy isn’t the abortion — the tragedy is that you needed one.

I know this won’t convince the hardcore anti-abortionists, but it refreshing to see someone refusing to cede the moral high ground.

[reinreingoawayy]

sae was super against the idea of having a pet cat. one, he thought they were mean, and two, he couldn’t stand the smell of their shit. so when he sees you holding a small black stray cat, both—you and the cat—drenched from the rain, he couldn’t help himself from shaking his head while he grabs towels for you and for the cat. he suggested bringing it to the animal shelter, which you disagreed right away as you tucked the poor cat into your arms as if he was going to snatch it from you and throw it to the nearest animal shelter.

he exhaled as he watch you give your full attention to the cat.

“so what are you gonna do about it now?” he asked.

“i don’t know—keep it?” you said, gently patting the towel on the cat’s body.

“but—”

“but i want to make sure you’re okay with it first,” you said.

“you know the answer,” he said with finality in his voice.

“can’t i change your mind? at all?”

sae looked away because he knows—he knows himself that he’d eventually give in to those pleading eyes. sae had always been this tough guy, but for some reason, the tough, hard to please, unchanging mind, becomes all too soft for you. it was almost like you had him in a spell that he couldn’t get through, not that he’d want to get through.

for him, what comes first is you. regardless of what he wants, it was always you first, and he was okay with it. seeing how your eyes would light up, the way you curl the corners of your lips when you’re happy was enough reason for him to put you first before anything else.

but having a pet cat was a different topic. he was very open about not wanting it. so, it was a challenge for you to persuade him. it only took a lot of pleases and promises and few bribes here and there before he finally exhaled with defeat. that was your cue that he was finally giving in.

“fine,” he said softly.

you beamed and almost jumped onto him for a hug.

“thank you!” you said again and again.

“but we must have conditions,” he said as you sat back to your seat, ready to listen to his conditions. there was a handful but you were more than willing to cooperate if that meant you could finally have a cat.

after bringing the cat to the veterinary clinic to make sure she was all good, you both went to a pet store to buy some stuff for the small cat. you were all giddy and excited as you survey each aisle, thinking and grabbing all the stuff you thought she might need while sae push the cart behind you.

“do you think this is excessive?” you asked sae.

he quickly shrugged his shoulders. “if you think it’s good for her, then go for it,” he replied, making your heart melt for a moment. you felt a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest that it almost made you tear up in front of the whole store.

after buying all the stuff, you went back home, played with the kitten while sae goes out for his usual football practice. if you don’t have work, you’d stay at home doing random stuff to fill up the boredom. he usually comes back before dinner time, if there’s intensive training, he comes back before midnight, and today is that day. when he comes back, it’s either you were already asleep or binge watching a series with your skincare on.

tonight, you decided to wait for him while you play with the kitten, but exhaustion came faster than sae and before you even know, you were knocked out on the couch with the ball of yarn on your hand. before you pass out, you could’ve sworn you heard the door unlocked but you drifted anyway.

sae sighed, watching you sound asleep on the couch. the blue ball of yarn was still on your hand and the small cat was laying beside you, perfectly loafed.

“hi there,” sae said, kneeling in front of you and the kitten. he felt stupid for greeting the animal, but when the kitten let out a small meow, he was taken aback.

“sorry if i acted that way earlier. truth is, i don’t really know how to take care of someone like you and i’m a little afraid that i might end up neglecting you, but don’t worry. your mom, right here…” he said, pointing at you, still sleeping.

“she’s gonna take good care of you and i will do my best to do my part as well. i’m sorry if i ever had you feel you were not welcome here. i just really don’t know what to react. it’s a me problem. you are definitely most welcome.”

he bit his lower lip as he tried to scratch the kitten’s back hesitantly, but when the kitten leaned on to his touch, he felt a slight relief.

“so how was your day with your mom? did you do anything fun?” he smiled.

“my practice was fine. it was tiring and almost felt redundant, but i love football so it’s fine. i hope you find what you love soon. i’d like to see it.”

“one last thing i have to tell, love your mom as much as i love her, okay? i hope you see how much of a wonderful person she is. she’s the best you could ever have,” he said before finally nudging your shoulders to wake you up.

“wake up, love,” he said in a very soft voice.

you hummed, pretending not to hear all of what he said just now.

“i love you, sae,” you whispered.

“you heard that, didn’t you?” he said.

“maybe?”

“i love you, too. now lemme get you to a proper bed.”

[anqelrafe]

— ୨ৎ bsf!rafe showing your date what he was missing out on.

synopsis: after getting stood up by your date, your best friend decides he's gonna show him what he could've had. authors note: i'm honestly not sure how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out before i lose motivation. anywayss, enjoy!!. . .♡ content warnings: not proofread. a little rushed cause i'm tired lol. contains smut, mdni. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. oral f.receiving. fingering. praise. on call during sex.

rafe laid on his bed, his head resting comfortably on his pillows with his arm draped lazily over his eyes. he had been listening to you talk about your day for the past hour, just barely listening to bits and pieces. he was really only waiting for you to skip to the lunch date you were supposed to have that afternoon, but you were so stuck on the topic of wanting to try out a new lip combo—whatever that was. so he decided it would just be quicker to just ask you himself.

“what about that date?” he cuts you off mid sentence, moving his arm from his eyes to peer over at you while you leisurely span around in the swivel chair at his desk. “with uhh...what was his name? ayden?” your glossed lips pull into a frown, stopping your spinning “andrew,” you correct, your finger twirling around a loose thread on your shorts. “and it didn't happened. he never came”

rafe's eyes shifted to yours, an annoyed furrow in his eyebrows forming at your admission “you mean that asshole never even showed up?” he scoffed, now fully sitting up against the headboard.

“nope,” your murmur, shifting in your seat “not only that, but he texted me an hour later to tell me he didn't feel like coming.”

“what a pussy,” rafe muttered under his breath, pushing his greasy hair away from his forehead as he tried to suppress an eye roll. he hated it whenever someone wasted your time or let you down. he always thought any guy who you even batted an eye at was incredibly lucky. “he just doesn't deserve you then. n i already told you that you were too good for him. don't know why you don't listen to me. you need to go after guys who would treat you better.”

your lips purse, tilting your head sideways as you toy with the polish on your manicured finger. “uh huh. and who would that be, hm? you?”

“yes.” rafe’s answer is almost immediate and without hesitation. he had no shame, no remorse, no fear. he was straightforward and honest to a fault. “i’d never let you down, you know that. and i'd show you what your date should've done.”

your fingers stop picking at your nail polish, your lips pulling into a thin line. you knew rafe was a good friend, he always had been. but boyfriend material? you weren't so sure. you've seen the way he's run through girls like t-shirts; and you refused to be one of his discards. “rafe—” you started, but he cut you off, waving his hand dismissively.

“nah, nah. don’t ‘rafe’ me. i’m serious. you don't wanna date me? fine. understandable. but at least let me help ya out. y'know, as your friend. i could be uh...setting a standard or...whatever you wanna call it. i could give you a better time than he would've.”

you weren't stupid, you knew what rafe was trying to do. it's how he got all of the island girls to flock over him─manipulation. but was it really manipulation if you wanted it too?

‎ ‎ ─── ✷ ⊹ ࣪

“you taste so fuckin' good. shit — you're drippin for me.” rafe groaned, his eyes trained on drenched folds before they locked on your face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure with every swirl of his tongue against your clit. “feel good, yeah?”

you were only able to force out a few incoherent sounds, the overwhelming pleasure making your brain fuzzy. any guy you've ever slept with never offered or made the slightest effort to eat you out like this. so the new sensation of rafe's tongue had you seeing stars and gasping beneath him. “c'mon, i asked you a question, i want actual words, alright? i want you to tell me how good it feels. and look at me when i'm taking t'you.” rafe spoke against your sex, the vibration of his words making your hips twitch.

“mngh....y-yes.” you breath out, forcing your eyes open to lock to his, “feels good...s'good.” you whimper, glossed lips parting as you stare down at him.

“mmh, there ya go, that's my girl. when i ask something i expect a real answer, yeah?” rafe murmured as two of his long fingers easily slipped into your soaking hole, pulling a mewl from your lips and making your back arch off the mattress slightly. “fuck baby, you're perfect — s'fuckin tight.” he groaned, watching the way your narrow pussy sucked in his fingers, a ring of your slick coating the base of his digits. “y'been giving this pussy to amateurs i bet. don't worry though..i'll stretch ya out real nice.” rafe murmured, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, your eyes rolling back while his fingers moved in slow, deep strokes, finding the spongy spot that made you cinch around his fingers.

“mgnh...fuck, rafe. i—” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets under you, your words being punctuated by rafe purposely humming around your clit, the vibration making your hips twitch. “mmh yeah i know, pretty girl. gonna cum, yeah? go on baby...make a mess f'me.”

his hands squeeze your thighs as they start to tremble, a loud whine falling from your lips as your orgasm hits, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, glossy eyes squeezing shut. rafe groans against you, lapping your juices as he helps you ride out your orgasm. “yeah, that's it, baby...good girl.”

you felt completely boneless, muscles trembling and skin buzzing all over as you slowly try to come down, catching your breath as he pulled himself up to hover over you, his hand tapping your trembling outer thigh “open up f'me baby.”

your eyes flutter open, thighs shaking as you slowly let them fall open. your eyes half lidded as you stared up at him. rafe groans softly at the sight before him, positioning himself between your legs and slowly slid his leaking tip up and down your glistening lips, teasing your clit slowly.

“fuuuck” rafe groaned as he started to slip his twitching member into your leaking cunt, his eyes fluttering at the sensation of him bottoming out. “shit baby, you're so fuckin' tight...suckin' me in s'good” rafe grunted, his hips starting to snap against yours as he drove his cock in and out, watching your lips part and eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

your head falls back onto the mattress as you mewled beneath him, your lips opening but no words leaving your mouth, already too cock drunk to form any coherent sentences. “bet you needed this, hm? needed this pussy taken care of s'bad, you just had to be fucked by your best friend — you like that, don't you, baby? you like your best friend's cock stretching you out?”

before you could even process what rafe said, the sharp, jarring sound of your phone ringing pierced through the air. the loud and harsh sound causing rafe's eyes to snap up in annoyance, his grip on your hips tightening. “fuckin' christ — who's calling?”

with your brain slowly working to catch up to the situation, the persistent ringing of your phone seemed to finally sink in. your hands fumble around as you search for the phone, eventually finding it. glancing at the caller id, your eyes flutter in surprise, and you let out a whimper, forced to keep your eyes open as rafe's hips continue their relentless rhythm. “w-wait,” you stammer, struggling to catch your breath as you see andrew's name flash across the screen. “i — shit — i need to-”

“answer it.” he ordered, smirking down at you as he watched the name flash on the screen. “let him know your best friend's takin' good care of this pussy.” rafe murmured, noticing the hesitance in your expression.

“wasn't a question.” rafe grunted, taking your phone from your hand without any consent, his thrusts getting rougher as he answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “mmh, y/n's busy. fuck— y'know you're really missin' out though, man. this pussy's a fuckin' dream.” rafe spoke between breathy moans, the sounds of skin slapping and both you and rafe's moans clearly heard on the other end by andrew. “hear that? s'the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

“hey, what is…” andrew's voice comes through the other end of the line, his words trailing off when he realized who he was talking to. “rafe?” rafe's smirk only widens at the sound of the obvious confusion and uneasiness in andrew's voice. “uh huh..” rafe groaned, “fuck man, she's takin' my dick so well; she even makes the prettiest noises f'me wanna hear?” the condescending, almost faux sympathy in rafe's voice was clear, it was obvious he was getting off on this.

he angled the phone closer to your face, making sure the sound of your lewd, almost pornographic moans and whines were clearly heard over the phone. “mmh yeah, all those pretty sounds just for me. but i uh— fuck, she might need to call y'back, man. gonna fill this pussy up soon.”

true to his word, rafe led you through four quivering orgasms after he hung up, letting himself go after your fourth one, his hips stuttering as his cock twitched, his warm liquid spilling inside of you.

“that definitely wasn't our last time...pussy's mine now.” rafe breathed out, collapsing next to you.

taglist 🪽: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl @drewswife @plaidcowboy @missquantic @rafesdiorperfume @minitarayummy @this-one-weeb @akobx @mystianqel @lacebambidoll @dolletebun @milamilkie @ch6rm @rafesprecious

[stanart4clearskin]

knight!art donaldson x princess!reader

art had essentially grown up in the castle. his mother was the queen's lady-in-waiting and his father was the king's most loyal knight. in return for their valuable service, the king and queen let art take lessons with their daughter—you. the two of you studied english, art, music, and fencing together. although the start of your guys' relationship had been rocky, the two of you eventually became good friends. the two of you confided in each other when life was hard or simply when you wanted a companion. 

all throughout childhood art had a crush on you but he was smart enough to know not to act upon it. he knew that you were destined for far greater things than being in love with a common citizen such as himself. although he knew he could never be with you, that never stopped him from acting upon his feelings. he complimented you whenever he could, brought you flowers he saw when he helped his dad patrol the grounds, and would sneak into the kitchen to grab you a sweet treat late at night. you were art's first love and he liked to think that he was yours. as you got older, the two of you never talked about any feelings either of you could possibly have because you were to be engaged to a prince of a distant kingdom. art didn't want to get in the way of that. 

on the eve of your 19th birthday and wedding, you had confided in art late at night about your apprehensions for your future. your head was in his lap as art's fingers combed through your locks. you both knew it was improper for a man and woman to be alone so late at night, let alone in your chambers but neither of you really cared. 

"i'm terrified to be married." you admitted, your eyes tracing the lines of the cobblestone ceilings. "i have heard that prince zweig is loud and brash. he doesn't have much respect for women, let alone me."

art's heart clenched at your words. he hated the thought that you were to be married to someone who wasn't him and he hated the fact that your future husband wasn't even that good of a man. "i'm sure those are just rumors." he said but the words seemed unconvincing to both of you. 

"i have heard that his parents have tried multiple times to find him a wife. every time something has gone wrong." you were apprehensive about what the next day might bring. prince zweig previously had his past bride-to-be kidnapped so that they couldn't go through with the wedding. 

art could tell that you were nervous. his nails scratched against your scalp, causing you to release a hum of pleasure. "i'll be with you all day. i'll make sure nothing will happen to you."

the day of the wedding had come and the hours leading up to it had been rather uneventful. no one had attempted to kidnap you nor had anyone attempted to sabotage the officiant. your ladies-in-waiting helped you with your dress, hair, and makeup and soon enough you were walking down the aisle. you weren't sure what the feeling in the pit of your stomach was when you noticed that prince zweig wasn't at the alter. perhaps it was relief or maybe even joy at the possibility of not having to be married. 

king and queen zweig insisted that everyone wait for the prince to show up but night turned into day and there was no sign of him. as you undressed from your stuffy white gown, you couldn't help but feel giddy. a large smile graced your features when art came to escort you back to the castle. the two of you were as giggly as hyenas during the carriage ride back home. that night the two of you snuck out of the castle and took a carriage ride to the nearest town. you spent most of the night at a local bar, drinking and singing your hearts out. when you both returned to the castle at sunrise, you shared a drunken kiss that neither of you would acknowledge for years. 

as time passed, art was sent off to a knight training camp while you and your mother traveled the country looking for possible prospects. many men were interested in you–naturally–but you had very little to no interest in any of them. you would never admit it aloud but your heart was already occupied by art. you couldn’t bear to marry someone other than him but you knew you could not marry him so secretly you vowed to never marry. every suitor failed to meet the mark for you and so after nearly a year of looking, your mother gave up and the two of you returned home. throughout your traveling around the country, you hadn’t been able to keep in touch with art. you had tried but life was too busy to constantly send him letters about your day and he was too busy training each day to respond. the two of you had grown distant but you were determined to reunite with him once he returned from camp. 

the moment you saw the gates opening and a carriage pulling in, you wasted no time rushing outside to go see art. he had hardly even stepped a foot onto the ground before you launched yourself at him. immediately you noticed the changes training had done to his body. he had once been awkward and lanky but now he had grown into his height and had muscle to accompany it. he held you with ease, as if you weighed as much as a feather. 

art beamed when he saw you. he would never tell you but every night while at camp he dreamt of you. his dreams ranged from merely having conversations with you to him completely ravishing you late at night. “hello princess.” he greeted and you noticed that his voice had changed as well. it was deeper and smoother, almost like dark chocolate. 

“i’ve missed you, art.” you gush, letting your feet return back to the ground. your eyes take in the sight of his face–from his crooked smile to his bright blue eyes and the hint of brown they have. 

“that’s knight art to you.” he says and in return you lightly shove him. all throughout childhood art had teased that you would eventually have to call him by his position but it felt surreal now that it had come true. 

“in that case you may no longer call me princess as i am a queen now.” 

for a moment art’s expression faltered and the color faded from his face. “queen? your father passed?”

you nearly snorted at the look of distraughtness on the knight. “no silly! my father abdicated, making me queen.”

pure relief flooded art’s face. he’s sure that he’d be equally as devastated, if not more devastated than you if your father were to pass. 

as the weeks passed the two of you fell into the routine that was new but also similar to the one you had growing up. early in the morning art would sneak into your room and wake you up, claiming that it’s his duty as your knight. during the day he’ll linger outside your office and peek his head in sometimes to watch you do your diplomatic duties. typically knights eat with the other workers but you forced him to eat in the dining hall with you and your parents. at night a knight will post guard outside your room while art lays with you until you fall asleep. he claims that it’s because someone needs to stay close with you at all times but he can’t resist stealing a kiss or two. 

even though the two of you would never marry, it didn’t stop either you or art from loving each other.

[dearstvckyx]

High School Sweethearts - NH13 (ft. NJD players , Hischier family)

summary: the four times you and Nico talked about marriage, and the one time where the talks came true / childhood friends - high school sweethearts - husband and wife

pairings: nico hischier x reader / njd players x reader / hischier family x reader / jack hughes x reader

. 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 .

1. The Playground Wedding

At seven years old, “marriage” wasn’t much more than a game. The two of you stood under the big oak tree in the schoolyard, hands clasped together as your best friend Jonas took on the role of officiant.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Jonas declared, barely holding back a snicker.

Nico’s face turned red instantly. “No kissing!” he protested, shaking his head so hard his hair flopped over his eyes.

You made a disgusted face, nodding along. “Yeah, gross!”

Jonas rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Fine, then just hold hands. And say ‘I do.’”

You and Nico glanced at each other, suppressing giggles before mumbling in unison:

“I do.”

“I do.”

Jonas clapped his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Okay, now you’re married! That means you have to stay together forever!”

At the time, neither of you thought much of it. Forever was just a word, and marriage was just a game. But even as you ran off to the swings afterward, hands still loosely linked, neither of you let go first.

2. Late-Night Conversations in High School

Years passed, and what was once a childhood game had become something real.

It was your senior year of high school, and the two of you had been dating since freshman year. You were lying on Nico’s bed, staring at the ceiling as music played softly in the background, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his arm.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you asked, voice quiet in the dim glow of his bedside lamp.

“With you?” Nico turned his head to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “Always.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you pressed on. “Do you ever think about, like… marriage?”

Nico was silent for a moment, then shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Yeah. I mean… it’s not something I’d want to rush, but I can’t really imagine being with anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me neither.”

He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Then maybe, someday…”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Someday.”

3. After the Draft

Nico had been drafted first overall to the New Jersey Devils, and life had changed overnight. Between training camps, media obligations, and moving to a new city, everything felt like a whirlwind. But when he had a rare free moment, he called you.

“You sound tired,” you noted, voice laced with concern.

Nico chuckled softly. “I am. But I wanted to hear your voice.”

You bit your lip, missing him more than you wanted to admit. “Is it everything you expected?”

“It’s… a lot,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. I just wish you were here with me.”

Your heart ached. “Me too.”

There was a pause before he added, almost shyly, “You know… if you were my wife, you could come with me anywhere.”

Your breath hitched. “Nico—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a nervous laugh. “Not yet. But… someday, right?”

You smiled, your chest tightening with love for him. “Someday.”

4. Jack Hughes and His Big Mouth

Taking care of an injured, very drunk Jack Hughes was not how you and Nico had planned to spend your evening.

Jack was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes. “You guys are so cute. Like… stupid cute.”

You exchanged amused glances with Nico. “Thanks, Jack,” you said, adjusting the ice pack on his knee.

Jack suddenly sat up—or at least tried to, before flopping back down with a groan. “No, but like, seriously. Nico talks about marrying you all the time.”

Your eyes widened. “He does?”

Nico groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack—”

But Jack had already passed out.

Silence filled the room until you turned to Nico, raising an eyebrow. “All the time, huh?”

Nico sighed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean… yeah. I do think about it. A lot.”

You felt your heart swell. “Me too.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile. “Good. Because I meant it when I said someday.”

You leaned against him, your fingers finding his. “Someday,” you echoed, squeezing his hand.

5. The Proposal

The New Jersey Devils had just won the Stanley Cup. The arena was electric—fans screaming, confetti raining down like a dream, and the sound of skates scraping against the ice as teammates embraced, shouted, and celebrated the biggest moment of their careers.

You stood at the edge of the chaos, watching Nico soak it all in. His hair was damp with sweat, his face lit up in pure joy as he hugged his teammates, lifted the Cup high above his head, and let out a triumphant yell. You had never seen him look happier, and it made your heart swell with pride.

Then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, Nico turned to you.

His smile softened, something deeper flickering in his eyes as he skated over. Without a word, he reached for your hands, his own still trembling from adrenaline, from the weight of what he was about to do.

The roaring crowd, the flashing cameras, the sea of teammates and WAGs—everything blurred into the background.

“You know how I always said ‘someday’?” he began, his voice thick with emotion.

Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around his.

Nico took a shaky breath and reached into the collar of his jersey, pulling out something that had been tucked beneath the fabric—a ring, carefully secured to a thin chain around his neck.

Your hands flew to your mouth as your heart pounded in your chest.

“I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment,” he continued, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions written all over his face. “And I realized… there’s no better moment than this. No better place. No better time.”

He let go of your hands just long enough to drop down onto one knee, right there on the ice, surrounded by his teammates, his family, the fans who had watched his journey from the start.

Your vision blurred with tears as he held the ring up to you, his blue eyes shining with nothing but love.

“You have been with me through everything—every high, every low, every dream I chased. And through it all, the only thing I was ever truly sure of was you.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t want to say ‘someday’ anymore. I want forever to start now. So… will you marry me?”

For a moment, all you could do was nod, too overwhelmed to form words. When you finally found your voice, it was barely more than a whisper—shaky, full of love, of certainty.

“Yes,” you breathed.

The arena erupted into cheers as Nico slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands still shaking, and then, without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ice and spinning you around.

The cameras flashed, the confetti kept falling, and somewhere in the background, Jack Hughes was loudly cheering, “ABOUT TIME!” Earning a smack on the back of his head from Jesper.

But all you could focus on was the boy who had once fake-married you on a playground, who had spent years saying ‘someday,’ and who was now kissing you in front of thousands, sealing a promise that had been written in your hearts all along.

Someday had finally arrived. And it was perfect.

Extra:

The ones who knew

The drunkenness of Jack Hughes

[wosov]

A tough pill to swallow - part 1

Kiddo forgets to refill her prescription soon after moving in with Leah and goes off the rails without her ADHD medication

Five months. It took living with Leah for five months for you to fall out of the routine of taking your medication. I mean you had only been diagnosed with ADHD since primary school so it really shouldn’t have taken such a short amount of time for you to forget such a vital part of your day. But here we are. You were currently on an extreme high and it felt amazing. You had so much energy that keeping up with your world class teammates was a breeze. You woke up at the crack of dawn full of energy as though you had drunk about 7 energy drinks at once. 

The one problem was that this high lasted no longer than two days and what followed was something you never wanted to experience again. You woke up to your alarm blaring out at you, signalling you to another day of training. In the distance you could already hear Leah rummaging about in the kitchen, no doubt grabbing her protein powder to start off her smoothie for the day. You rolled over in bed and groaned, feeling like the weight of the world was on your chest. 

Leah came into your room after three brisk knocks and immediately started singing “Good morning sunshine!” as she pulled your curtains back which led to you fighting the urge to either scream in her face or pull the duvet back over your face. You picked the latter which led Leah to roll her eyes and walk over to your bed and yank the covers off you.

“Cmon kiddo! You need to get out of bed, we only have 30 minutes before we need to leave the house” she spoke with an easy and upbeat tone that you found impossible to replicate so you just huffed and rolled over. “Kiiddddooooo you gotta get up and dressed now cmon lets go” to which you didn’t respond choosing to willfully ignore her, which Leah did not take well to. “Kid, I know you can hear me” she said with mild annoyance as she started poking you which was like her poking at your poorly contained irritability. You finally thought you had won when Leah walked out of your room with a huff, mumbling under her breath but that hope was very short lived as she soon returned with a cup of cold water and promptly trickled a little onto your face. This was the last straw for you as it shocked you out of your unrestful slumber. You shot up out of bed and all but screamed at Leah.

“LEAH WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

Leah (who really wasn’t expecting a reaction like that) was stunned into a temporary silence. She just stared at you dumbfounded that you had shouted at her like that whilst trying to regain her composure in order to not yell back at you.

“Kid I don’t appreciate you taking that tone with me” she spoke with a dangerously calm tone. “I was only trying to get you out of bed since you weren’t responding to me earlier, now if you will excuse me I am going to go and finish getting ready. I have set out your training kit on the side and we will be leaving in 25 minutes.” And with that Leah briskly walked out of the room leaving you to wallow in your guilt and annoyance. You hadn’t meant to scream at her like that, in truth you don’t really know what came over you. It was like you weren’t in control of yourself, you thought as you pulled on your kit. After you were all dressed and ready for the day, you sluggishly walked out of your room (choosing to ignore your bedside drawer where your empty prescription bottle lay). 

You hated feeling like you were not in control of yourself, of your thoughts, your feelings or your actions. It was as if you were one comment away from exploding in anger but other than that you just felt numb. You felt so empty, so devoid of any feelings that normal people seem to have, but in some twisted way it was comforting. You welcomed it, after all you believed this is only what you deserved. If you were the one who couldn’t act like a fucking normal person, then you obviously deserved to feel like this. 

As you moved downstairs you half expected to be met with a fist and screams in retaliation for the scene you had caused upstairs, so you kept your sight focused firmly on the floor - as if bracing for one impact or another. But when that didn’t happen you lifted your gaze from the floor with a little confusion. In doing that you saw Leah rummaging through her bag looking like she was trying to find something. You must’ve been standing there aimlessly for a few minutes until she noticed you and smiled. 

“Hey kid, all ready to go? I just need to find my left shin pad then we can get on the road” she stated whilst still looking through her bag - albeit with a little more urgency than before. “There’s some toast left on the side there if you wanna help yourself or we can just grab something before training, up to you.”

You nodded in confusion at the lack of response to your outburst which Leah seemed to sense as she stopped what she was doing and looked at you.

“Kiddo I’m not angry at you, it was probably a poor judgment call on my part to think waking up a teenager with cold water would work” she stated with an amused look on her face. 

You just nodded hesitantly, as if you were still waiting for some kind of punishment. 

“I uh, I am really sorry for shouting at you Le” you mumbled out. 

“What was that Kiddo, I couldn’t quite hear what you said there”

You took a deep breath before speaking more clearly, “I’m really sorry Le.”

Leah just smiled at you before saying “Water under the bridge kid, it’s all forgiven.”

That should’ve eased the guilt you were feeling but it just made you feel worse. All you could think about was that you screamed at such a sweet and caring person and all she did was forgive you like it was nothing then blame herself for the situation. 

The entire journey towards the training centre was filled with Leah humming along to her playlist of the day and you staring out of the window trying not to fuck anything else up, and as soon as you had arrived, you were quick to jump out of the car and grab your kit bag before all but running into the building to get ready for the first session of the day. Leaving Leah, who hadn’t even turned the ignition off, to sit there bewildered wondering what on earth had just happened. She was used to your cheeky personality chatting her ear off about one topic or another that had caught your interest before running off in search of your shared teammates who were more into pulling pranks on the rest of the team. Not whatever had happened just then. Leah caught the confused eye of Beth who was walking in with Katie McCabe as they were usually your prank pulling counterparts. But after watching you walk into the building without so much as saying hello to them, Leah knew there was something going on with you that was bigger than just the usual teenage hormones. And by the looks of it both Beth and Katie knew it too as they quickly waved over to Leah before silently asking what was wrong, to which Leah just responded with a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders as she watched you disappear into the building, quickly feeling despair wash over her because the truth was.

She truly had no idea how to fix this.

[odileeclipse]

A wager of Fate Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader  Part 1. 

(This was made via request of my friend I love Pure Vanilla more trust. Pure Vanilla programming will be back as soon as I get the time LOL)

The Silver tree stood as it always had, eternal, unyielding. It’s empty branches glowing softly beneath the pale moonlight. You had been raised by Elder Faerie to be unyielding, molded by the past behind the tree. You had gone under Elder Faerie’s wings trained to one day take his place, when his magic faded. The duty was carved into your bones, a promise etched in silver.

Elder Faerie advised against unnecessary contact with the tree. The history behind what the tree sealed. All of this was information forced upon you as a child. But you felt content with the responsibility. It gave you importance, and worth. The air tonight felt colder than usual, exhaling your breath curled in the crisp night air. Elder Faerie had long retired, exhaustion pulling him into a restless slumber. Maintaining the seal was no easy task. You felt sorry for him for the duty on his shoulders. Nobody had seen the weariness in his eyes like you had. The quiet grimace he wore when he believed nobody was watching. Was this truly the fate you were meant to inherit? The thought gnawed at the edges of your resolve. You shook your head silencing the thought. No, there was no room for doubt. You wondered if he was growing weaker. If the seal really would stay up. You weren’t even sure how you’d inherit the job of maintaining the seal when he was gone. A soft chuckle shattered the stillness. “Thinking so deeply this late at night? Careful now, one might think you’re having second thoughts.” The voice slithered through the air like silk laced with venom. Did you speak aloud? You don’t remember. No, he can’t read your mind, that's not possible. You stiffened, turning sharply directly towards the tree. There were cracks along the trunk of the tree. Blue hues seeping from the cracks. “You shouldn’t be here,” You said, your voice steady, despite the icy tendrils of unease creeping up your spine. “You’re bound to the tree. Your words hold no weight” You felt you needed to keep him entertained, to prevent him from doing anything more. You had trust in Elder Faerie’s power, but the unease you felt was suffocating. “Isn’t that why I must speak?” His voice was mocking, you didn’t even understand what he meant. “Who am I speaking to?” Your voice wavered, the beasts were sealed in the tree you knew this very well. But you’d never heard any of them, interacted with them. Perhaps Elder Faerie was afraid this would happen. It’s why you shouldn’t stay here any longer. But your body felt immobilized, stricken with fear. “Relax, I’m still inside my cage” He said, chuckling which did nothing to ease your nerves. You clenched your fists. “Don’t make a mockery out of me. This is my duty and my future purpose. The silver tree is to be protected.” 

“Must it? Or is it simply that you were told it must?” His voice was playful, liliting, yet each word dripped into your mind like ink. Staining something pure within you. “Tell me, future ‘Guardian’, does duty taste sweet? Or does it burn like berry juice on the tongue?”

You knew better than to engage with him. You had been warned. Elder Faerie had spoken of a particular cookie. Shadow Milk Cookie. Of his deceitful nature, his poisoned words, his twisted illusions, and yet. Yet, you felt the weight of your future come crashing down on you. It came in waves, it felt sickening. Was this his doing? Shadow Milk Cookie’s laughter tainted the air. “Don’t look so conflicted. You know you want to listen…” You shook your head and turned on your heel, this was a power larger than you. You knew better than to be baited. “When you tire of your chains, do pay me another visit.” His laughter followed you all the way back to the sanctuary of your chambers. And though  you swore you wouldn't return. The weight in your chest said otherwise.

A new day was for new beginnings. The scent of lilies filled the air before she was present before you. Soft, delicate yet overwhelming. Like spring overtaking the last remnants of winter. You stood at the foot of the tree, watching the silver knights arrange in perfect formation. Their gleaming armor reflects the pale glow of the sacred bark. You were confused. They did not stand for you. But for her? Who was she? Did you miss a couple chapters? Her presence alone felt like a beacon that commanded reverence. But you were the future guardian? How could someone else hold higher importance? Other than Elder Faerie of course. Her presence was striking some faerie cookies kneeling. You watched from the shadows Elder Faerie at the center of it all, his expression was unreadable, but as he met her gaze, something in his stance softened. It was not the stiff cold posture required of him as guardian. It was something else tethering closely to devotion. Your insides twisted. You have spent a lifetime, preparing, waiting, for the moment the burden of Guardian would be upon your shoulders. You had practically given up everything, your childhood, your freedom, your…identity. What were you? Other than guardian heir? You did it all to uphold the sacred duty of the seal. And still even with all the kindness Elder Faerie bore, he had never looked at you like that.

It was a ceremony that passed in a blur. Words were spoken, oaths exchanged, yet none of it mattered because when it was over, Elder Faerie did something he had never done before. He knelt, the silver knights following suit. A wave of shining metal bowing before the goddess. What had she done you weren’t able to do. The weight of reality pressed down on your chest, suffocating. The whispers of the faeries turned to hymns in her name. White Lily Cookie. Their voices lifted in praise, not for you, but for someone you felt had taken your rightful place.

In the growing silence of your heart, a voice slithered through your thoughts, silk-soft and poison sweet. “Strange isn’t it?” A shiver ran down your spine, you turned to find the voice but beside you stood no one. "All those years of training, of sacrifice, and yet the moment she arrives, they forget you exist." You shook your head, knowing you shouldn’t answer but you do, for your own self preservation. “No, that isn’t true..I know who you are. I had my doubts but you will not warp my mind as you please” you were unwavering. “Oh? Is that so?” laughter filled the air yet nobody seemed to notice. How was he doing this? Did you let him in? No, that's a foolish thought.

You wouldn’t let him twist this. You had trained for your position for years, you were chosen long before White Lily Cookie’s arrival. You knew your purpose. “I-” he cut you off. “You what? You believed you were meant to be the Guardian? That your years of sacrifice mattered? Please, be serious, you hold a candle to me. To my power” You only felt a suffocated throat tighter. “Perhaps,” He mused as if speaking to himself but you knew better. “You were never meant to be anything more than a placeholder. A silver thread meant to be unraveled the moment something brighter appeared” The Silver Tree’s light flickered—just for a second, just long enough for doubt to sink its claws into your chest. The flicker of light from the silver tree trembled, weak and uncertain. Shadow Milk cookie chuckled. The laughter was smooth yet laced with something sharp. You were unwavering, you refused to turn your back on all you’ve ever known yourself to be.

"Still clinging to your little fairytale?" he purred, his voice seemingly next to you. "Still waiting for your grand moment? how much longer will you play the part of the obedient heir when the stage has already been set without you?" Your jaw tightened. "I am the heir. I will be the Guardian." "Oh?" His tone was light, teasing, but beneath it lay something heavier, something pressing. "And yet, it is her name they sing. Her name they worship." The shadows around him rippled like ink spilled across a page, bleeding into the edges of the light. "Elder Faerie Cookie has already turned his back to you. The kingdom has already chosen their goddess."

A sharp pang lanced through you, but you square your shoulders. "That doesn't mean I've been cast aside." Shadow Milk Cookie sighed, feigning pity. "Then why does it feel like you have?" He circled around you, slow, deliberate, a predator savoring the inevitable fall of its prey. "Why do you linger in the dark while she stands in the light?" His voice dipped, rich with something intoxicating, something near pleading. "You were meant for more than this." His voice was inviting, collected, something you wanted to fall into.  "You know, I too was cast aside once," he murmured. "Stripped of my place, my power. Left to rot in the dark while another took what was rightfully mine. I see it in you, that same injustice. That same ache." He paused, allowing the words to settle into your vulnerable heart. "But you don't have to endure it." The air around you felt thin, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. "What are you saying?" You could hear his smile widening. "I'm saying you don't have to stay here, wasting away in a role they've already given to another. You and I, we're not so different" His voice dropped to a whisper, each word curling around you like smoke. "Help me escape, and I will give you something this place never will, a purpose that is truly yours." The Silver Tree flickered again, the sacred light dimming just slightly. "They will never see you as you wish to be seen, But I do. I always have." The words curled around your ribs, settling in the spaces where doubt had already begun to bloom. The kingdom had abandoned you. Elder Faerie Cookie had abandoned you. And yet, Shadow Milk Cookie stood here, offering you something, a chance, a path, a way out. The darkness around him pulsed, waiting, expectant. And still, he smiled.

"But you don’t know me." A beat of silence. Then—laughter. Not sharp, not cruel, but delighted, as if you had just said something terribly amusing. "I know you far better than you know yourself," he mused, his voice dipping into something softer, something almost indulgent.

“Come find me. Tonight. Beneath the Silver Tree, where the light dares not reach," he coaxed, playful, inviting. "And perhaps… I’ll show you what it means to truly be seen." Then—silence. The air lightened, the kingdom still unaware of the voice that had wound itself around your thoughts. But you knew better. Nightfall would come. And you would have a choice to make.

Nightfall draped the Faerie Kingdom, The silver tree’s glow pulsed steadily, casting soft light upon the sacred ground. Inside where the light didn’t touch beneath its roots darkness stirred. You hesitated at the tree’s edge. “You came.” The voice was tainted with amusement, revealing who was speaking to you. "I must admit, I half-expected you to resist. To turn away, to cling to the place you so desperately wish to belong." A chuckle, deep and smooth. "But curiosity is such a lovely thing, isn’t it?" You stood your ground not allowing fear within your heart. “I’m not here to play your games, or to be swayed Shadow Milk” "Oh, but everything is a game, my dear. Some just don’t realize when they’re already playing." The shadows shifted again, curling around the base of the tree. He was close—so close you could feel him, even if you couldn’t see him. “I don’t want to play with you, I would be a fool to indulge you in anything. I came here searching for answers.” You don’t know what answers you wanted, but you needed to sound confident and unshakeable. "And yet, here you are. Standing before a villain, seeking something you cannot name." The Silver Tree’s light flickered—just for a moment, just long enough for doubt to take root. "Want to make a deal?" His voice dipped lower, velvet-smooth. "You want answers. I want freedom. Help me, and I will show you the truths they’ve hidden from you." The shadows curled tighter, waiting, expectant. "Do we have a deal?"

[vigilante-3073]

Texas Honey

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: The story of how Joel Miller fell in love with Y/N, a girl sweeter than Texas honey.

TW: Joel is smitten, age gap, mentions of infected people/death.

Y/N was only five years old when the Cordyceps brain infection began to spread. She was lucky enough to make it into the Boston Quarantine Zone with both of her parents and her grandmother.

Her parents had quickly established a reputation for themselves in the smuggling community. They were brave enough to go where few people went and the items they had were highly sought after.

Joel thought they were stupid.

Those people had a kid at home and they were putting themselves in danger for absolutely no reason. Nobody was shocked when they were eventually torn apart by infected while on some ridiculous run.

Y/N was understandably devastated, but it was bound to happen at some point or another. After the death of her parents, Joel hadn't heard anything from her or her grandmother.

He didn't see Y/N again until sixteen years later, she had grown into a beautiful young woman and he was almost caught off guard. Y/N had recieved medical training during her time in the QZ and many people turned to her when they were sick or injured.

FERDA officials would be suspicious of certain injuries and some individuals had nowhere else to go. Y/N had quickly converted a section of her apartment into a clinic of sorts and people came to her at all hours for medical care.

Joel found himself on her doorstep when he sliced his hand open while he and Tess were on a run. He had wrapped it in duct tape to stop the bleeding, but he knew that he needed stitches.

Y/N was kind and gentle with a feather light touch as she cleaned his wound before stitching it closed. He watched her closely as she worked, delicate and meticulous as she pushed the needle through his skin.

"How long have you been doing this?" Joel asked.

"I've been working with one of the doctors since I was fourteen. He said he wanted to pass on his knowledge to someone who cared and I guess that's me," She said, picking up a pair of scissors and snipping the thread.

"Is your grandma still around?" Joel asked.

"She is. Did you know her?" Y/N questioned, pulling out a small roll of gauze.

"Knew your parents more, but your grandma was always a nice lady," He said.

Y/N carefully wrapped his hand, she cut the gauze and tore off a piece of tape before taping it in place.

"I have no idea what you cut yourself on, so I want to see you again in a few days, okay?" Y/N questioned, he nodded.

"Thanks," Joel muttered, standing up from the table.

"Wait, Joel... I-I'm sorry if I'm putting you on the spot, but if you and Tess are going on a run anytime soon I can come with you. My medical training can be really helpful, I'm not the best shot, but I'm fast and a good climber," Y/N said.

Joel stared at her for a moment, "Where's this coming from?" He asked.

She huffed, tears gathering in her eyes as she crossed her arms, "I need ration cards," She admitted softly.

"How bad off are you?" Joel questioned.

"I haven't eaten in two days... I have enough for my grandmother, but I don't know what else to do and I won't let her go hungry because of me," She said shakily.

"Sweetheart, I know you might think it's a good idea, but it isn't. The world out there is dangerous and you can lose your life in a second," Joel said.

Y/N nodded, "I understand... I'm sorry for bothering you, Joel," She mumbled, wiping away a tear quickly as it rolled down her cheek.

Joel felt incredibly guilty for refusing her help, but he couldn't be the one who got her killed. He wouldn't.

"Honey, listen. I can help you out, alright?" Joel said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stack of credits.

"Joel, no, I can't just take your credits," She said quickly, resting her hand over his.

"I haven't even done anything to earn them, it's wrong," Y/N added.

"You stitched me up," Joel stated.

"That's nothing," Y/N said dismissively.

"Your big heart is making you go broke, babygirl. Take the credits, I have plenty," Joel said, counting out a stack and placing them in her palm.

He closed her fist around the crumpled bills, "Take 'em," Joel said.

Y/N hesitated before reluctantly nodding, "Okay," She said softly.

"Ill see you in a few days. Make sure you eat somethin', alright?" Joel said.

She nodded again, "Thank you, Joel. You don't know how much this means to me," Y/N said shakily.

"You deserve it," Joel stated.

Y/N watched him leave her apartment, closing the door behind himself before she looked down at the pile of credits he had left for her.

Maybe Joel Miller wasn't all bad.

He had a reputation in the QZ, but she couldn't imagine someone so evil being capable of such kindness. Y/N was able to eat for the first time in days and she would always owe him for that.

...

Joel had seen Y/N on multiple occasions since that initial exchange, she always greeted him with a smile that made him want to melt. Y/N had always been the sweetest thing, she never complained and she had an awful habit of putting everyone else first.

Joel couldn't think of a time where he'd seen her be ungrateful, angry or irritated. She was always happy and willing to help, dropping whatever she was doing in order to care for someone else.

Joel had one hell of a soft spot for her.

He would never admit it, but he would move heaven and earth for that girl. Y/N was a genuine ray of sunshine and people tended to take advantage of her.

Joel would always remember the day when Y/N started avoiding him. He had a bad feeling and the second he saw her, he knew exactly why she had been staying away.

Her face was covered in bruises and her lip was split, Joel had to do everything he possibly could to keep himself calm. Joel tilted her head up and examined the damage, her lip trembled as she turned her head away from him.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, tone scarily calm.

Y/N sniffled, body trembling as tears welled up in her eyes, "His name is Trevor. H-he came looking for pills and I've never had them, but he kept saying that I did. He trashed the apartment and took a bunch of supplies," Y/N said.

"I want you to go find Tess," Joel instructed.

"No, Joel, you can't hurt him," She said shakily.

"I won't hurt him, I promise. I'm just gonna get your stuff back," Joel stated.

He wouldn't hurt the kid. He'd kill him.

"Go get Tess and tell her to stay with you until I get back," Joel said.

Y/N hesitated before reluctantly stepping out of the apartment and rushing off to go and find Tess. Joel stood in the apartment, silently seething as he waited for her to return before he could punch the punk's teeth down his throat.

Joel knew of the guy, he was an asshole and he definitely deserved to be beaten within an inch of his life. Y/N came back with Tess following closely behind her, she was obviously worked up and wanted to make it better.

"Joel," Tess started.

"I'm just gonna talk to the kid. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on her while I'm gone," Joel said.

Tess huffed, "Fine, but keep the conversation short," She advised, Joel nodded.

He left the apartment and came back two hours later with everything that had been taken from her along with a set of seriously bruised knuckles.

Tess had always known that he cared about Y/N, but the lengths he was willing to go to for her still shocked Tess. Y/N was not a person who would ever stand up for herself and Joel quickly slipped into that role for her.

Joel was incredibly hesitant when Y/N kept insisting on joining them on runs outside the QZ. She wouldn't accept his ration cards without doing something to earn them and he was struggling to keep her from venturing outside the safe zone.

Y/N eventually went to Tess and they came to him as a united front and he knew that he wouldn't be able to argue his way out of it. Y/N joined them on a few simple runs, she brought a pack of medical supplies but she was also surprisingly agile and quick.

Y/N helped them cut their travel time in half during certain runs when she was able to get through a tiny space and clear away debris for them. She didn't like using guns, but she was pretty good shot and it made him feel better about bringing her out of the QZ.

Joel always had Tess slip some of his cut of the ration cards in with Y/N's and she teased relentlessly him for it. Joel wanted to help Y/N without her knowing he was helping, she wouldn't accept the funds otherwise.

When Joel passed Tess a small stack of ration cards for her to add into Y/N's cut, she smirked.

"Softie," Tess teased, taking the cards.

"Shut up," Joel muttered, shoving his stack of cards into his pocket.

"Why don't you bring the cards to your girlfriend this time, huh?" Tess said, holding out Y/N's ration cards to him.

"She's not my girlfriend," He stated.

"Bet you'd like her to be," Tess grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

...

Joel went to deliver the ration cards to Y/N, his stomach dropped when he saw her sitting out in the hallway. Y/N was crying, body curled up against the wall with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Joel made his way over to her, "What happened? Is it your grandma?" He questioned, she nodded.

"I came back from my shift and she was in bed. I-I thought she was sleeping but then I realized that she- she wasn't," Y/N hiccuped, breath catching in her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Take a breath," Joel instructed gently, kneeling down in front of her.

Y/N took a shaky breath before continuing, "She wasn't breathing and she was cold. I tried to help her, but sh-she was already gone, Joel," Y/N said with a sob.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Joel said.

"She was all I had," Y/N mumbled shakily.

Joel looked into the apartment as two men made their way towards the door carrying a body bag.

Joel stood up, "C'mere," He said, holding out his hands to her. Y/N took his hands and Joel pulled her to her feet, he wrapped his arms around her and held her body close to his chest.

Joel turned his back to the doorway, blocking her line of sight as the men carried her grandmother's body away to be burned. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, her hands gripping onto the material of his shirt. Her lip trembled, a fresh wave of tears rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed.

"You did everything you could for her, sweetheart. You gave her the best years she could've had," Joel assured.

"Sh-she died alone, Joel," Y/N said shakily, tears soaking into his shirt.

"I'm sorry, honey. She was a good woman," Joel said, rubbing his hand over her back gently.

Y/N slowly managed to calm herself down, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. Her eyes were red, her cheeks were damp and her skin was blotchy. Joel cupped her cheeks, gently wiping the tears from her skin.

"Joel, can I stay with you tonight? I don't want to go back in there," Y/N said softly.

"Of course, honey," He nodded, hands dropping from her cheeks.

"You can say no if you want to," Y/N mumbled.

"Why would I ever say no to you?" Joel questioned.

"I just wanted you to know that you don't have to say yes," Y/N said.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. You can stay with me for as long as you need," He assured.

"Thank you, Joel," Y/N nodded.

He walked her down the hallway to his apartment, unlocking the door and allowing her to enter first. He watched her as she looked around the room, lingering in the middle of the apartment awkwardly.

Y/N had never been in his apartment once in the years that they'd known each other. Joel always came to her apartment while she looked after her patients and her grandmother.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the couch," Joel said.

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed," Y/N replied.

"I'll be fine. It's one night," Joel assured, moving over to the couch.

"Why don't we just share the bed? I mean, we've slept next to each other before," Y/N offered tentatively.

It was true. They had slept beside each other on multiple occasions while outside the QZ. They had even shared a sleeping bag once or twice, but Joel still hesitated.

"I-I'm sorry, that was a really stupid thing to say," Y/N muttered, realizing that she may have overstepped.

"No, it's alright, we can share the bed. Just don't be clingin' onto me, alright?" Joel said.

"I won't, I promise," Y/N nodded.

That night, they fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed but woke up in each other's arms. Her body was pressed up against his side, her arm thrown across his stomach and her leg slotted between his. Her head rested on his chest and his arm had found itself wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him.

Her skin was warm and her hair was soft when it brushed lightly against his chin as she shifted. Joel knew he needed to get up soon for his shift, but he couldn't bring himself to leave quite yet.

He wanted to spend every second he could in her arms and he was reluctant to leave her. Y/N seemed to feel the same way, gravitating towards him after the loss of her last surviving family member.

Y/N started to come around his apartment almost every day after the passing of her grandmother. She cooked for him and Tess, cleaning the apartment and had even started doing his laundry.

Y/N had a need to be needed after all those years caring for her grandmother. She had never experienced life without being a caregiver and she felt like she didn't have a purpose now that her family was gone.

Y/N stood at the stove in his apartment, heating up some soup in a pot on a hot plate. She scooped it into a bowl before placing it in front of Joel at the table.

"Thanks, honey," He said, she smiled.

"Tess, do you want any?" Y/N questioned.

"No, I'm good," Tess said, shaking her head.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna run back to my apartment. I have a few people coming to see me today," Y/N said.

"You're not gonna eat?" Joel questioned.

"No, I'm not hungry but I didn't want you to go without. The hot plate is off, but it should keep the rest warm until you're done," She said, Joel nodded.

Y/N stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind herself gently. Tess stared at Joel across the table as he started to eat silently, he didn't acknowledge her but he could feel her eyes on him.

"She your little housewife now or something?" Tess questioned.

"Leave her be," Joel stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Joel would be happy if Y/N spent the rest of her life with him in his apartment. If she needed to cook and clean to feel useful, he'd let her.

This incredible person had chosen to care about him and he needed it more than he was willing to admit. Y/N was a light in his life and he loved her more than anything.

Maybe he would eventually come clean about his feelings, but he was content with the way that things were.

For now.

[lieslab]

Wish you were sober

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: The ending of your romantic relationship isn't a wake up call from your substance abuse, but rather a fall from grace.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2K

Trigger warning: Substance abuse/addiction, brief mention of domestic abuse, childhood trauma, drug paraphernalia, and heroin overdose.

Addiction/domestic abuse resources

_ _ _

Tangerine stained the heel of Hyunjin’s palm. Plum purple smeared along the outside of his opposite arm. Another quiet night of solitude and soft music made his heart content. The strokes of his paintbrush gliding across the page, the gentle dabbing of blending colors together; he could get lost on nights like this. 

Weeks ago, he would have stared blankly at his canvas and shoved it off the wooden easel. Too much hurt in his heart made his brain erratic. He acted without thinking, but time healed the hurt. Not fully, but enough to survive the next day. 

The next day and then the next. Another handful of days spun into a week. A week webbed into a month. A month stretched into two. The tears stopped falling every night. The brutal bullet wound in his heart began to heal with scar tissue. 

He wished he could fix you, but that’s the thing about people. People have to recognize and fight their own problems. They can lean on others for emotional support, but you cannot face people’s problems head on for them. No matter how scary, life must be faced head on. It’s the only way that a person will truly grow. 

Loving someone isn’t always easy. Some flaws are bigger than others. Some are unforgivable and others, as harsh as it sounds, they’re unmanageable. You? A derailed train waiting to crash. Hyunjin? A global k-pop idol with an image to keep up. He didn’t want to be there when you flew head first into another train. 

He tried his best to help you. He coaxed you into conversation after conversation. He tried to get you the help you needed, but you didn’t budge. You refused to see you had a problem. It’s why he left. He couldn’t keep putting his heart on the line and waiting for it to end badly. 

He called it being proactive and you dubbed him heartless. He tried to explain it to you, but you refused to see it. Screaming and crying, under the influence of alcohol, you tossed a book at his head. He barely ducked in time. You didn’t stop. 

One book and then another. Another two and then the lamp. It crashed and shattered, scattered all over the floor, and you couldn’t see the reality. Warped by the wave of alcohol, you knew your boyfriend’s heart no longer picked you. You thought he was selfish. The two of you parted in a broken and unforgiving manner. 

Hyunjin squinted, pulled down more tangerine along the petals of the flower he painted. When he finished, he pulled back, tipped his head, and nodded. Everything in the painting finally came together. It began to look how he envisioned it in his head. 

The vibration of his phone broke his concentration. He wiped his hands on a plaid cloth and swiped the phone without looking. “Hello?” 

“Oh my god, you didn’t block my number.” 

“Who is this?” When he heard your name from your friend’s mouth, his heart sank. He forgot he saved your best friend’s number. Just in case you had an episode where the two of you needed to contact one another about your spiraling behavior. 

“I’m sorry to call you so late, but I can’t find them, Hyunjin. They’re shooting up again and I know it’s not your responsibility, but please. I’ve looked everywhere and I’m freaking the fuck out.” Anxiety brewed in the pit of their stomach. Desperation flooded their voice. “Just this once, please help me and I’ll never contact you again.”

He didn’t know why he agreed, but he did. He shoved himself away from the painting, washed his hands, put on a pair of shoes, and disappeared into the darkness of the night. The same worry he felt weeks ago, it all came back. 

You were reckless with your life. You blamed it on a bad childhood. The teenage years that gnashed your heart into bits of pulp and mush. The kids who didn’t care. The parents who hated you. The world turned its back on you, so you turned your back on it. 

Last Hyunjin knew, you were abusing alcohol. He couldn’t stop you from buying it. He couldn’t take your wallet and hide your money away. Deep down, he wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t right. You had to come to terms with things on your own. 

The last week that the two of you were together, he’d come home to find you passed out on the couch or in the bed. You smelled like a bar. Empty bottles scattered around your body. Whether it was beer or cheap vodka that burned all the way down, it didn’t matter to you. Anything that you could drink and get drunk, it worked. 

If you progressed to shooting up something, your mindset grew worse. All hope that Hyunjin had for your recovery was swept away with a single phone call. His footsteps echoed along the pavement. Dark eyes darted around the sidewalks. The white fluorescent lights hummed above his head. 

Late at night, most places were closed, but he had an idea of where you might be. You always had a favorite rundown park. You said it reminded you of childhood before you realized you were unlovable. If you closed your eyes on the swing, you pretended you were five again. 

Reality didn’t dagger against your chest. You didn’t understand that parents should have been capable of love. Childhood friends didn’t abandon you. Life filled with bright colors and the sharp scent of mowed grass. You blew bubbles, unaware of the horror of the future. 

He walked along the sidewalks, passed the darkened business fronts, and he walked until he found the dead-end street. You took him here for your version of a first date. The two of you climbed the neglected playset. 

You squeezed through the top of a small rock formation and sprawled out on a circular platform. A rusted, metal spinning wheel attached to the side of the platform. At your hip, the perfect height for kids to steer the ship shaped playset. 

Hyunjin’s eyes scanned the area, but he didn’t see you in the dark. He took out his phone, called your name, and turned on the flashlight. He glanced around the area, hoping none of the nearby houses would call the cops on him. He wasn’t a creep, he just wanted to find you. 

Further and further, he walked to the pointed playset until he found an unmoving silhouette above his head. He rushed towards the same rock formation the two of you climbed months ago. He called your name, squeezed in the hole, and pulled himself into the small platform. 

He wiggled forward and his hand bumped metal. He cursed, shined his flashlight, and froze. The underside of a burnt spoon stared back at him. He panicked and rushed towards your body. 

You laid with your eyes shut. Pale skin and blue lips. Your body didn’t move with normal breaths. He shook your shoulders and called your name. Each sound louder than the last, trying to get you to wake up, but you didn’t. 

You always said being under the influence felt better. Away from the harsh realities. High on dizziness and euphoria, it provided relief from the pain in your brain. Your thoughts swung like Newton’s cradle. Each one left your brain more damaged and more hindered than the last. 

There had always been a chance he would find you like this, but he didn’t expect it to be tonight. He didn’t think it’d happen like this. He walked away, hoping, praying, and wishing you’d get better. He thought it’d give you a final wake up call. He didn’t know it’d doom your death. 

He screamed your name and shook you again. Your head slightly rolled, but your eyes didn’t flutter open. Your chest didn’t press forward with a simple breath. His hand reached out and hit your cheek. “Come on! Come on!” 

You didn’t stir. He fumbled for the packets in the back of his jeans. He didn’t think he’d have to use narcan, but he was glad he brought them along. You always worried him with your recklessness. He grabbed the plastic pack, ripped it open, and gently wrapped his fingers around the plastic pieces. He pushed the tip into your nose and pressed the lever, shooting it into your nasal cavity. 

“Come on, wake up. Don’t leave me tonight. You can’t do this to me tonight.” He shifted you onto your side. The recovery position was supposed to aid in your recovery. His fingers shook as he dialed the correct number for an ambulance. 

His words came out numbly. He explained the situation and your location. When you didn’t take a breath after a while, he administered a second round of narcan. Just as blue and red lights turned the corner, the sirens grew louder, and you gasped. 

You didn’t understand what was happening. The spot you jammed the needle in your forearm ached. Remnants of euphoria clung to your head. Your eyes drooped and Hyunjin’s grasp around you felt warm. You weakly uttered his name, not sure if he was here or a figment of the drugged haze. 

“I’m here and I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting go. Stay awake and stay with me.” He waved his arm to the first paramedic he saw. “Over here!” 

Your world blurred. Faces smeared. Sounds echoed and morphed. Your heart raced in your chest, but none of that mattered. The hurt didn’t last. It fractured, contorted, and burst into tiny pieces that drifted away with the drugs. 

It always felt good. The highs kept you high. The lows dragged you down and slammed you back to earth hard. Each one made you feel worse and worse. For each low, you craved the high again.

A never-ending self destructive cycle that almost killed you tonight. 

_ _ _ 

When you were finally straightened out hours later, after the doctor worked magic on your overdose, a headache loomed overhead. Your mouth felt dry and your body ached. 

Hyunjin sat across from you with tears in his eyes. After accompanying you to the hospital, he called your best friend back and told them that he found you. They showed up, but once they saw the state you were left in, they left the room in sobs. Unable to accept that this person was who their best friend was once. 

“Hyunjin?” You whispered. Your hand stretched for his, but he didn’t grab it. He stared at it and more tears slipped down his cheeks. 

“You nearly died tonight.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. I’m sorry I’m being rude, but you’re an idiot. Do you know how devastating it was to find you not breathing? You dumbass!” He snapped out of anger. “I thought I lost you!”

He ignored your hand, reached out, and tugged you into a hug. “You stupid, fucking idiot. Don’t make me lose you. Don’t make me have to live through that. I’ll never forgive you if this addiction kills you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“Don’t say sorry. Do something about it! Fight it!” He pulled away and cupped your cheeks. “Fight it. Let me help you. Let your friends help you. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Nobody ever said you had to be alone for it. Don’t let it take you away from us. Stop letting it win.” 

Maybe it was the devastation smeared along your ex-boyfriend’s face or the desperation in his eyes. Perhaps, it was the later admitness from Hyunjin where he informed you that your best friend ran out of your hospital room unable to fathom the reality you found yourself in. Maybe it was the gentleness from nurses and the doctors, who didn’t treat you like a burden, but rather like a person with an injury. 

_ _ _

Later, curled up to a sleeping Hyunjin in your shared hospital bed, you silently vowed to fight and win. No matter how long it took and no matter how much withdrawals sucked, you’d win. You’d fight for your life. For your future. For your friends. For your ex. 

You’d fight to become a success story and not another doomed statistic in a textbook.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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[somewhereincairparavel]

hot take but I will always hate the concept of percy getting elected as praetor with having spent so less time in camp jupiter, while jason spent the same amount of time in chb and still wasn't able to fill in the gaps percy left, but percy seemingly did for jason in camp jupiter, and how replaceable jason was shown as, despite the fact that he spent 12 years, and trained as a TODDLER. i swear if I see some "joke" about percy surpassing jason in a week COMPLETELY ignoring that it's a very obvious gary sue moment written by rick I'll get so salty. it's one of the many inconsistencies of hoo.

because not only does it scream main character favouritism from rick (with making percy fit into everything somehow with zero plot holes) people ONLY say "jason was replacing percy" but apparently acting like percy wasn't? they were BOTH sent to replace eachother, temporarily atleast.

it's the fact that romans are showed to be very choosy in selecting praetors, which is why it took jason so long to become one despite his reputation. the camp just randomly hailing percy (a greek, people whom they hate) as their leader with zero hesitation whatsoever DESPITE the presence of octavian is weird. considering how much they opposed frank, a ROMAN going on an important quest, deeming him unworthy, despite hearing mars, literal GOD giving them orders to send frank, they were still very adamant in not sending him. so we can see that romans bend their rules for no one.

yes percy accomplished something GREAT and deserved the position as much as jason did, but if you take into consideration how the romans were written in the books, they were the type of people to ignore efforts people made if it meant the people were going against their "traditional" values. going by that logic, rick made them contradict their own views just for the purpose of elevating percy, and instilling this sense of superiority over jason.

knowing that the target audience wouldn't want jason to be on the same level as percy, which is strange because rick also meant to write jason and percy as foils of eachother, so shouldn't they be given equal amounts of importance? or just don't write them as foils at all if you want percy to have leverage over jason so bad? like pick a side.

if percy can be made a praetor with a week's time and have golden treatment in an enemy camp that accepts no one in easily (as opposed to chb who's more accepting) then why ISN'T jason held up like a hero in chb if percy is? (nah don't bombard me with the "camp half blood is loyal! unlike camp jupiter, rick wrote percy getting held up to point out that difference between the camps loyalty" bs we are just making up excuses and stories to make sense of the bad writing, who knows if rick even thought through all that, considering how inconsistent he is in books after pjo)

how come chb, whos main trait was written as loyalty to the campers never changed when it came to jason being there? jason got good friends, sure. but the camp NEVER saw him as a replacement to percy and there was some tension with him popping out of nowhere right when percy disappeared. jason was accepted in camp, but he wasn't hailed like a hero there the way percy was.

but camp jupiter, who's traits were extremely traditional values and rules that was never changed or messed with in the past was randomly tailored to percy's advantage? jason was hailed as the pinnacle of the true image of rome, and them replacing him with an unconventional greek hero within a WEEK seems so contradictory and just screams bad writing. why is the fandom giving this portion of the bad writing a pass when it clearly wastes the potential of the characters who aren't percy or annabeth? also this is NOT a percy hate post before y'all flood my inbox with threats, just pointing out one of the many inconsistencies of heroes of olympus.

[gamesetattach]

You Always Know

Jannik Sinner x Reader An old friend comes to Jannik's rescue, so he doesn't drive himself crazy during his three month ban. Friend is a loose term... they've always been something deeper than that. A little angst, a lot of comfort. Can't wait to see our man play again..

The world wouldn’t let him ignore it. The news of his ban had sent shockwaves through the tennis world, the headlines relentless, the debate louder than he could ever tune out. He ignored the worried looks from his team, the sympathetic texts, the way even strangers seemed to have something to say—ignored how it all pressed down on him, demanding a response he refused to give.

So instead of facing it, he did what he knew best—he buried himself in routine. Trained like nothing had changed, like he wasn’t forced onto the sidelines of the sport that made up his entire life. He ran drills, pushed himself harder in the gym, kept his schedule the same as if all those tournaments were still on the horizon.

If he didn’t acknowledge it, maybe it wouldn’t feel as real.

His team noticed. They always did. Darren Cahill, who had seen athletes crumble under the weight of lesser storms, wasn’t about to let him slip through the cracks. He had coached enough players to know when one was trying to outrun the things they didn’t want to face. And he knew Jannik well enough to recognize the warning signs—the clipped answers, the longer hours on court, the empty look in his eyes when he thought no one was paying attention.

And so, Darren made a call.

Not to any journalist, not to his lawyer, not to a PR team—but to you.

---

You had been in Jannik’s life for years now, an old and trusted friend. You were the person who knew him beyond his forehands and trophies, the one who could pull laughter out of him on even the hardest of days, the one who he let see him as more than just Jannik Sinner, World No. 1.

You and Jannik had a low maintenance friendship—you'd known each other long enough to stay close even through stretches of time with no contact. Even without consistently staying in touch, you always picked up where you left off. Silence had never been uncomfortable between you, so close that your relationship had settled into something easy, something unshakable.

You weren’t part of his team, weren’t tied to his career in any professional sense, but you had always been a constant. The person he called when he wanted to talk about something that wasn’t tennis, or about everything to do with tennis. The person who never expected anything from him beyond who he was off the courts, and outside of the cameras. You didn’t need to be around all the time to know him better than anyone, to read between the lines even when he wasn’t saying anything at all.

And right now, he really wasn’t saying a thing.

---

You'd hopped on the soonest flight, barely packing a bag before heading to the airport, knowing Jannik wouldn’t have asked for help himself. He never did.

You already held your suspicions about his state of denial, and so when Darren reached out, you dropped everything. You never did need much convincing when it came to Jannik.

Which was why you now found yourself standing outside his front door, your fist hovering just before knocking.

You could hear movement inside—soft footsteps, the muffled sound of a chair scraping against the floor. He was up and around. You knocked.

A few seconds passed before the door opened. Jannik stood in front of you, hair slightly damp from a shower, already sticking up in a way that told you he had run his hands through it too many times. His expression barely changed, though his brows pulled together just slightly.

"Hey, stranger," you said, offering a small smile.

"Did Darren send you?"

"Something like that," you admitted, stepping past him into the room without waiting for an invitation. "You weren't answering my calls."

He shut the door behind you, sighing. "Didn't mean to. Just—"

"I know," you said in gently, he didn't have to finish. And he knew that.

He met your gaze, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between you. Then he shrugged, a feigned nonchalance that didn’t fool you for a second. "Nothing to talk about. It’s done."

You dropped your bag onto the chair by the window, glancing around the space. It was neat, and Jannik was always one to leave things laying around—he had always needed extra motivation to pick up after himself, but there was an emptiness to his home now. A kind of sterile order that made it feel like he was just barely existing, moving through the motions without really being there.

His silence stretched between you as he let you survey his state of living, the air thick and weighted. This was how it could get with him—he let things simmer under the surface, kept them locked away until they built up into something too heavy to carry alone. And he’d been carrying this for too long already.

You turned back to him, and watched him for a moment before speaking, arms crossing over your chest. "Jannik. The world is throwing opinions around like confetti, your name is in headlines every day, and you’re pretending it’s not happening?"

He sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. "What is there to say?"

You raised a brow. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something about the fact that you’ve been banned from playing for three months? The fact that the entire sports world has an opinion on you right now? That half of them don’t even care about the truth?"

Jannik’s jaw tightened, his fingers pressing together. "Talking about it won’t change anything."

"Maybe not," you said. "But ignoring it won’t either."

"What do you want me to do?" His voice raised ever so slightly now, and you could hear he was trying to temper himself. "Go online and argue with everyone calling me a fraud? Defend myself to people who’ve already made up their minds? It won’t change anything."

You studied him—his tight shoulders, the tired look in his eyes, the way he was holding himself together like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go even for a second.

"No," you said finally. "I want you to let someone in before you shut down completely."

He let out a breath, but the tension in his shoulders refused to let up. "I don’t know how to do this. How to just... stop."

"Jan," you spoke softer now, sitting down beside him. "You don’t have to hold this by yourself."

Because this wasn’t just about the ban. It was about what it meant. The helplessness of being forced to wait, of watching his sport move on without him, of knowing that no matter how hard he trained, he wouldn’t be able to prove anything until time had run its course.

"You don’t have to figure it out alone," you said. Your hand found his, fingers brushing lightly before curling around his palm.

Jannik glanced at you then, the exhaustion clear in his gaze. You didn’t push, didn’t ask for more. You just sat there, letting the silence settle, a quiet reminder that he didn’t have to say anything for you to understand.

Jannik let out a dry laugh after some quiet, shaking his head. His fingers tightened around yours, grounding himself in the one thing that still felt real. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Show up."

You gave him a half-smile. "I know."

And you knew what he really meant. And, for now, that was enough.

---

Jannik never asked you to stay. But he never asked you to leave, either.

The first night, you figured you’d take the guest room. You had barely set your bag down before Jannik wordlessly picked it up and carried it into his room. He didn’t say anything as he placed it down near his dresser, just looked at you once, as if daring you to argue, before climbing into bed. You had paused for only a moment before following and slipping under the covers beside him, the little space between you known and warm.

By morning, it was like you had always been there.

Jannik’s house had been eerily quiet before you arrived—so quiet it felt like a void. You filled it effortlessly. You worked remotely from his dining table, half-ignoring his commentary whenever he passed by, and usually replied with some sarcastic remark about how you technically were on the clock. When he came home from practice, his hair damp with sweat and exhaustion evident in his posture, you tried to have food ready, or would at least shove a snack into his hands before he could think to protest.

You weren’t trying to fix anything. You were just there. And that, more than anything, seemed to keep him steady.

---

The first time you went with him to practice, he acted like it was no big deal. Like you hadn’t slipped into his life so comfortably, like his team had no reason to be surprised by your addition. And they weren't, really, they welcomed your presence and the version of Jannik it brought.

"So, are you her assistant now?" Darren asked as Jannik entered the court, shooting a look at where you had settled on the bench with your laptop.

"Shut up," Jannik muttered, stretching his arms.

You smirked. "You did carry my bag in."

"Because you left it in the car."

"Because I knew had an assistant for that."

The team laughed, and Jannik shot you a glare, and there was something lighter in his mannerisms than before—his humor was coming back. And when he started hitting, there was something looser about his body, too.

The days blended together like that. You'd wake up tangled together, your leg thrown over his, his hand resting heavily on your waist. Neither of you would move for a while. And when you did, it wasn’t to pull away, but rather to burrow deeper into the warmth of each other. It was silent, comfortable. The kind of closeness that required no explanation.

You worked while he trained, watched his practice matches, ate meals together like it was second nature. It wasn’t something you talked about; it just was. The easy familiarity of it all. The fact that neither of you ever brought up the way your feet always ended up in between his under the dinner table, or how he absentmindedly pulled your chair closer when you sat too far.

---

One night, you decided to cook dinner together. It started out with the best intentions—simple pasta, nothing too complicated—but somewhere along the way, chaos took over. You were in charge of chopping, Jannik was on sauce duty, and neither of you were taking it particularly seriously.

"That’s not how you dice an onion," Jannick observed as he glanced at your poorly cut pieces.

"You play tennis, not Head Chef," you shot back, pushing the board toward him. "Do it yourself if you’re so good."

He rolled his eyes, reaching to grab the knife, but you were faster—sliding it just out of his reach.

"Weren't you ever taught not to play with knives." He yelped, but laughter was bubbling underneath his words.

What followed was an impromptu game of keep-away, him chasing you around the kitchen, laughter bouncing off the walls as flour somehow ended up in your hair and tomato sauce splattered onto his sweater.

By the time the food was actually done, the kitchen was a disaster, but neither of you cared. You sat on the counter, Jannik leaning against the sink, both of you catching your breath between bites of pasta straight from the pot.

"We’re horrible at this," you mused, twirling spaghetti around your fork.

Jannik huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Speak for yourself. I think I was doing just fine until you got involved."

You nudged his knee with your foot. "You love the chaos."

He didn’t respond right away, just gave you a look, something warm and knowing in his expression before he took another bite.

---

Another afternoon, it started to rain just as Jannik finished practice. You had been waiting by the parking lot, sitting on the steps of the training center, scrolling on your phone. When the first drops hit, you got up to rush to the car, but Jannik, fresh from his session, grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

"Come on," he said, a rare, mischievous glint in his eye.

"What?" You barely had time to react before he took off into the open courtyard, tugging you with him. The rain picked up, soaking both of you within minutes. You groaned dramatically but gave in, letting the rain drench you both as you danced around in the open space, laughter spilling between you.

"You are ridiculous," you laughed, wiping water from your eyes as he lifted your arm to twirl you lazily.

"And yet you’re still here." He smirked, pushing his dripping hair out of his face and turning you to face him again, still holding your hand.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, letting him spin you around once more before tugging you closer, your clothes sticking together from the rain.

You stayed like that for a moment, breathing in the scent of wet pavement and him. His thumb brushed against your wrist absentmindedly, tracing small, barely-there circles. Neither of you moved, neither of you broke the moment. It wasn’t hesitation that kept you still, nor was it uncertainty. It was something deeper, something heavier that had settled between you long ago. The rain kept falling, but neither of you seemed to care.

When he finally let go, he didn’t step away. "We should probably get back."

"Yeah," you agreed, but neither of you moved.

After another beat, he shook his head and exhaled a soft laugh, and reached for your hand again, this time simply lacing his fingers through yours as he pulled you back toward the car. It wasn’t even anything to be addressed. Just another moment in a series of many others neither of you had ever tried to name.

You went home and showered, and then you both found yourselves on the couch watching a movie neither of you were paying attention to. Jannik’s head, which had started off resting against your shoulder, made its way onto you lap. Your fingers absentmindedly played with his curls. Throughout the film, you made comments about the ridiculous plot and the over the top acting, and he chuckled each time, the low sound vibrating against you.

"Are you even watching?" You teased, poking his ribs lightly.

He hummed. "How can I? When your narration is drowning out the actual movie."

"Okay and? Just tune it out like background noise, because I'm not going to stop."

His lips quirked. "Bah, no. Why would I do that when you're best part?"

---

The tension from the ban was still there, but it had dulled at the edges. His frustration still flared up in moments—when he checked his phone and saw another headline, when a notification popped up that should’ve been about his next match but wasn’t. But instead of shutting down completely, he turned to you.

One night, after another long day, you found him sitting outside on the balcony, staring up at nothing. You leaned against the doorway, watching him for a moment before stepping forward.

"You good?"

"Yeah." His voice was low, distant. "Just thinking."

You slid onto the lounge chair beside him, pulling your legs up. "Anything specific?"

He exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "Nothing I want to say out loud."

"So dramatic."

"You chose to be here."

You nudged his knee with your foot. "I did."

He didn’t respond right away, just looked at you, the weight of all that lied between you in his gaze. You held it, waiting, letting him take whatever time he needed. And then, finally, he spoke.

"I don’t like not having control," he admitted, voice quieter now. "Not over my training, not over what people think. And especially not over what happens next."

You nodded, understanding. "But you do have control over one thing."

"Yeah?"

You smiled, shifting so your shoulder bumped against his. "Whether you let this consume you or not."

He looked at you again, something softer in his expression. "You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Say exactly what I need to hear."

You shrugged. "It’s a gift."

His lips twitched, and he shook his head. He meant to reply with something teasing, but what came out was true and firm. "Stay."

The word was simple, but it held all that he felt for you. You had been planning to, of course. But hearing him say it—hearing him ask—settled something deep in your chest.

You leaned your head back against the chair, gazing up at the night sky. "I'm not going anywhere."

And for the first time in weeks, Jannik finally felt himself believe that everything might just be okay.

---

Some time before May 5th, 2025

The countdown had dwindled down to days.

Jannik had never been the type to fixate on time, but now, every minute stretched, every hour filled with the anticipation of something just barely out of reach. The ban was ending, the silence lifting, and soon, he would be back where he belonged—on the court, in the rhythm of competition, stepping into the world he had been locked out of for what felt like an eternity.

But the excitement came with worries, too.

He had spent so long keeping himself moving, telling himself the brief pause in his career was just another phase, another setback to push through. Now that it was nearly over, he wasn’t sure what to do with the nervous energy thrumming beneath his skin. His body was ready. His mind, however, wavered.

So, again, he turned to you. Like he had these past three months. Like he always did.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees, idly typing away at something he was sure he'd hear about soon. You had made yourself at home in his space long ago, moving through it with the kind of ease that made it feel less like a house and more like something alive—something warm.

He wasn’t sure when exactly that happened, though he knew the seeds were always there, and he wasn’t in any rush to stop it.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, not looking up from your screen.

Jannik huffed, sinking deeper into the cushions beside you. “I’m thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

He nudged your knee with his own, rolling his eyes when you simply smirked at your screen. A few more seconds of quiet stretched between you before he finally exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what it’s going to feel like,” he admitted, voice quieter than usual. “Going back.”

You finally looked up at that, closing your laptop without hesitation and shifting to face him fully. “It’s going to feel exactly the way it always has.”

Jannik let out a slow breath, staring at his hands before looking back at you. “What if it doesn’t?”

“That's okay, too.”

He didn’t reply right away, but the way he studied you—quiet, searching, as if trying to absorb the certainty in your voice—spoke louder than words. You reached out, slipping your fingers through his, grounding him in the moment.

“You’ve done this a thousand times,” you reminded him. “Nothing about who you are has changed in these three months.”

He nodded slowly, squeezing your hand once before letting go, but the weight in his chest felt a little lighter. He didn’t say thank you, but he didn’t need to. You just knew.

You always did.

And soon, the world would remember too.

---

Until then xx

[t44ovely]

There’s no home, without your love - Kylian Mbappè

Description: Suddenly your and Kylian’s relationship chances after hes move to Real Madrid, is there a way to get this back were they’ve been before?

Tw: angst a little, fluff, mentions of having sex, just being together in the shower (not smut included)

Word count: 1918

A/n: english is not my first language so there might be some writting and spelling errors, you can kindly give me a note about those!❤️

—————

You and Kylian have been together for almost three years now. You started dating turning his PSG times in early 2022. You met at a party we’re you were with your friends, who were friends with Kylian’s teammate Achraf Hakimi. You fell in love instantly and been really in love every since, until his dream came true.

”Kylian Mbappè is singing contract with Real Madrid this summer, after he annonced in May that hes going to leave from Psg and now singing contract with the club of his childhood dream.”

You were so happy for him, he was too and you couldn’t wait the new life in Madrid with him. You moved to Madrid in June, the house was huge and beautiful, Kylian told you that he would get everything you wanted into that house to make you feel home. So you thats what you did, you got your dream couch, dinning table and huge ass closet for all of your clothes, bags and other accessories. You were so happy and life in Madrid started so goodly, other Girlfriends and Wifes were so nice and you got along with them very well. You and Kylian were so happy with your new life and everything went so well until the season fully got started.

The first games with Real madrid back in August 2024 were so much passion and exiting in both of you, Kylian showed the world that he was good enough to be there and deserved it. The time was intense and training got more time out of yours together. You started feeling little bit lonely, he was training all the time, playing at teammates houses, at away games, you got it, you just missed him and your time as a couple.

Time passed your converstation got smaller everytime, day by day, week by week, until your daily talks was just something about the day, good mornings and nights.

Then finally after weeks you had a chance to go with Kylian to watch Real madrid play against Liverpool at Anfield. You were so happy to go support him out off home and so was him, you thought this would bring little bit your relathinship together.

———

”Bèbe, are you ready? I leaved my shirt in the bed, remember to wear it.” Kylian says while walking into the bathroom of your hotelroom and hugging you by the waist, while you were getting ready to the match.

You sigh, ”yeah almost, could you text to Ethan that im little bit late, so he dosen’t have to hurry to pick me up?” Kylian giggles little into you neck, he nods and pick ups your phone on the sink and opens it with his fingerprint you had put into your phone. He choose whatsApp and theres open chat, but not with Ethan, with a woman named Rose.

He dosen’t regonize the name so he asks, ”who’s Rose? And why are you talking about our sex life with her?” He asks you showing the texts. You snap the phone of his hands and go to yours and Ethans texts like you told him to do. ”it’s nothing, no one, i told you to text Ethan not to read my texts” you say little bit pissed off while tapping the texts to his little brother. He huffs, ”Yeah i know im sorry, but the texts were open already, couldn’t you at least tell me who is she?” He says trying to get your attention.

You set your phone back to the sink and continue doing your makeup, while complete ingnoring hes question. Hes still standing next to you, watching you, ”well i have to get going, maybe we need sex to get your attitude back on trail.” Kylian says and walks out off the bathroom, after few minutes he yealls goodbyes to you from the door and the door shuts.

Silence, your biggest enemy. You hate it. It remindes you at home, back at Madrid were you feel the most lonely than ever.

———

You arrived to Anfield with Ethan about half an hour before the game starts, so you had good time to find your seats and use the restroom quigly. After finding your way to the seats you spot Kylian warming up at the field. Hes talking with Jude and Aurèlien, when they’re heads turns into your direction, Kylian gives you little wave and sends you kiss, you send him back and then he starts walking towards the tunnel with the boys.

The refree whislest the game start and your heartbeat starts get up. The first half goes quit good, with 0-0. You get up on your seat and tell Ethan that your going to get some snack and then come back. While your in the lounge area you hit to someone, Saffie Khan Curtis Jones girlfriend.

”Oh god im sorry didn’t look at all, you okay?” She speaks with her accent, while keeping you stady on your feet. ”Yeahh im okay, i didn’t look either so sorry, phone kept my eyes out off the world” you say while sharing little laugh with her. You speak with her for a while and also go get some little snack before the other half starts.

You laugh with your mouth full of some pie you found with Saffie, ”oh god im lost of breath, thats so weird how could someone say something like that strait to someone.” still laughing, Saffie try her best to even getting a word out her mouth, ”yeahh i was thing the, like how could you, clad now it’s just too funny,” she finally gets to say, ”we should go get back to the seats the game starts in two minutes,” she says looking at her watch. You take your purse and give her little hug, then heading back to your seat.

The other half dosen’t go as wanted, Liverpool scores at 52 minutes in, then Camavinga gets injured at the 56 minutes, then the most baddest thing that can happen happens. Kylian misses his penalty, your heartbreaks and you just know how sad and dissapointed he will be after the game. The game ends into 2-0 to Liverpool and the Anfield is happier than ever, but your not you know how this will affect to your sweetest boyfriend, even when he did his best.

You and Ethan gather your things and messages pops into your phone.

Kyks❤️:

”Going with the team see you at hotel.”

You:

”okay, you did good babe im super proud of you❤️”

Kyks❤️:

”thanks”

You can see his face and feel his feelings throught the phone, you put your phone into your purse and look back up meeting Ethan’s eyes, ”Hes fine, you know Kyky he gets back on his feet after few days, just give him time and your love.” He says while giving you a hug, you just humm into his shoulder. You then walk to the car, driving your way to the hotel.

———

You get in to your room before Kylian so decided to hop in the shower and change into your pyjamas after that. When your middle of your shower you hear someone open the door of your room, it can’t be Kylian yet? You think, ”its me!” you hear Kylian yell, like he would have hear you thoughts. ”im in the shower, almost ready!” You yell to him into the bathroom.

After few minutes you hear the bathroom door open, you turn your head only to see you shirtless boyfriend his shirt in his hand standing in front of you. ”Hey baby, i would give you a hug but im super wet, lemme get out so you can have shower” you say to him turning the shower off. While your stepping out Kylian comes over you taking you into his arms hugging you tightly, you immediatly take him into your arms hugging him so tight like he would vanish if you let go.

You stay there for good five minutes just in each others arms, Kylian lose ups a little just to have look at you, but still arms thightly around your waist, he looks at you with tired eyes, but with little smile greeping into his lips. ”Hey…” he says quietly. ”Hey…” you say back, giving him a smile. He takes a good look at you and says ”you look very good like this bébé” while giving little laugh. You realising that your still compelate naked after the shower, you start laughing and he joins into the laugh.

You start to take his pants off slowly, after getting them fully off he tooks his socks and boxers off, he push you into the shower and turns it on. ”Can you wash my back for me chérie, je suis si fatigué…” Kylian says while he turns his back for you to wash, you don’t say anything you just took his body wash and start washing his back, while giving little massage for him. He moans and groans little with your hands on him.

You get out off the shower, brush your theets together and you change into your fav skims pyjamas, while kylian changes into his skims pyjama pants, matching with yours. You get under the covers together the bedside table lamp still on, you lay on your back which gives Kylian opportunity to lay his head on your chest.

”this is nice,” he says after few minutes into your chest, you feeling his warm breath in your chest. ”Yeah, i’ve missed going to bed the same time like this, laying together you know just you and me” you say while giving him a kiss into his head, he hums into you taking his head up looking into your eyes.

He looks you with forgiving eyes, ”je suis vraiment désolé mon amour. j'ai été tellement dans cette équipe, j'ai oublié tout ce qui concerne toi et nous” (im so so sorry, i've been so into this team, i've forgotten everything to do with you and us) you can almost see his eyes watering. You look at him taking a deep breath. ”Yeah…i’ve been feeling the same, kind off alone you know, but i understand it’s a lot and it really is your dream team. I just want you to give me your love, cause that house isin’t my home without your love Kylian.” You took his face into your hands, getting really close to his face letting your foreheads rest into each other, while you rub his cheeks. ”I know bébé and im going to give you that love back, cause i love you and theres nothing in that house without you.” Kylian says while closing take gap of your faces, kissing you slowly.

The kiss started heating after few, you break the kiss breathless resting your forehead back to his with big smile on your face. Kylian starst laughing and then speaks up, ”know whos Rose’s and why did you tell her we haven’t had sex in a month,” laughing still. You groan and start laughing yourself too, ”shes my old therapist, helped me with this whole thing of us and she just happend to ask if we have had sex in a while.” You giggle of the whole idea and Kylian giggle even more, ”well well, tomorrow after we’re back home i will change that…”, he start kissing you again and thats all you want, just Kylian and his love for you like you have for him.

—————

[lesmiix]

Self defense.

Hyun-ju x g/n reader.

Summary: Since Hyun-ju has been a sergeant in the special forces, she knows self defense really well and wants to teach you, so she assured nothing bad happens to you.

a/n: HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN💗💗

Hyun-ju and you were laying on the couch, quiet, you were with your phone and she was reading a book, until she suddenly broke the silence.

"Hey my love, have you ever thought of learning self defense?" She asked, closing the book and putting it on the little table besides her.

"Well, I've been thinking about it for the last few weeks, but I don't have time to go to classes, and they are way too expensive." You answered, resting your head on her chest.

Hyun-ju giggled a bit to your answer.

"Do you want me to teach you?" She proposed. That took you out of guard, you knew that she had been in the special forces, but you thought she wanted to forget about that past of hers, so you never asked her.

And here you are. Trying to learn how to avoid a simple punch. She was being slow and careful, not wanting to hurt you.

"I mean, if it doesn't bother you, I would love to learn" A smirk appeared on your lips when she nodded.

You knew what you had to do, but you didn't really try to put too much effort, just so she would explain it more to you, explaining the movement you had to do touching your body, correcting your position.

Even so, you couldn't dodge them, just enough so that they didn't hit you all over the face.

You couldn't quite focus on what you had to do, you were more focused on your girlfirend's muscular body, your mind not having the most appropiate thoughts. You could tell that she could lift you up with a single arm.

When you finally made the right counterattack, she blocked it, not giving you the chance to win. She pushed you against the wall and keeping her body pressed against yours, preventing you from moving.

You sighed in defeat, closing your eyes slightly, already tired from all the effort you had made.

Oh the nice view you had when you opened your eyes.

"What's wrong honey? Already tired?" She teased, holding your chin so you would look up to her.

You were completely pressed against the wall by your girlfriend's body, you both were sweaty, and her face was red. She had her forearm leaning on the wall and her other hand was now resting on your hip. You couldn't look anywhere but at her strong arms, wich were slightly flexed.

Your voice came out in nothing more than a soft whisper.

"I- I'm fine" You asnwered, not being able to say anything else noticing how close her face was to yours.

Your face was all flustered, and Hyun.ju noticed it.

"Hyun-ju...-" You started, trying to ignore the buttefrlies on your stomach.

"Are you sure?" She asked, pulling herself closer to you. Pressing you even more against the wall, leaving you breathless.

"Wanna take a break?" She proposed, playing with the hem of your leggins, you quickly took the hint, nodding too fast, wich made her giggle.

You would probably have more training sessions of these.

a/n: Sorry for the inactivity! I will continue making the requests that I have not finished!!!❤️

If hyun-ju was a Sergeant, doesn't that technically mean she probably knows how to do basic hand-to-hand combat as well? Like self defense type stuff???? Imagine hyun-ju teaching reader how to do basic self defense hand-to-hand combat??? Uhmm??? Her being all sweaty pressed up against the reader, trying to teach them how to protect themselves and the reader just blushing and not focussing while her arms are all over them andakcudzfzczshsjscuc SOMEONE WRITE THAT PLEASE IM BEGGING YOUUUU!!!!!

[midnightshindig]

Very much inspired by that other post with Rex and Cecil but Immortal x Viltrumite reader. Reader is a deep cover agent to back up Nolan but stayed in cover when Nolan went off the handle. Instead of Kate, reader started hooking up with Immortal. Eventually, Immortal finds out and confronts reader. Although, reader does love Immortal since he's at least as strong as a young Viltrumite and will live just as long if not longer.

Immortal x Viltrumite!Reader

Gender neutral as per usual, and as always, fic under the cut!

You were so pissed when Nolan abandoned Earth

Luckily you had the foresight to not tell anybody you were also a Viltrumite

Especially not your Nolan-hating partner of a few months

You'd been casually hooking up since he came back to the Guardians, since you were the only person on the team who could keep up with him physically, and who also had the longevity he did

Honestly it was pretty sad, you thought, that you'd have to take him out before conquering Earth

I mean... did you really have to? As long as you didn't copulate with him, you could probably keep him as a pet of some type?

Either way, he was pretty obsessed with you

What had started at hooking up in the showerroom turned into sitting together on the couch turned into talking about your past lives.

"I've lived dozens of lives, Y/n. I've been married to hundreds of women and had a handful of children across them all, none of which possessed the powers I do. I've been alone in this universe for the entire duration of it-" He put his hand over yours as you watched the sky "But it comforts me to know you have just as much of a past as I do"

You told him altered versions of your childhood, true to life in all but the Viltrumite details

"I grew up on a highly militaristic planet that believed companionship made one weak. I've never..... had a real partner before. Not on my home planet- I mean. I've been with humans since arriving- but I'm hundreds of years older than they are, and will live for thousands more."

This was a sentiment you shared

and so, battling many different obstacles, you two started dating seriously

Keeping him as a pet post-colonization was seeming more and more likely as the days went by

So when he proposed...

with a ring, he hand forged nonetheless...

How could you say no?

and things were good for a while.

but not even the smoothing sandpaper of immortality could buff out the rough edges of your relationship

Especially not when your partner overheard an intercom between you and your fellow Viltrumite, giving an update on the progress on Earth since Nolan's disappearance

"Yes, commander, things have been well. These people and their protectors are weak, our only concerns are Nolans spawn, but they are weak willed and have not been trained in any meaningful capacity-"

your comms were cut off as The Immortal smashed the device laid in front of you, cutting you off and peering down at you with disdain and hurt

"What was that?"

"what was what?"

"Y/n, you're... a viltrumite? Here to take over Earth?" his voice was stern, gruff like it always is, but covering it was a thick layer of pain

He folded his arms and sighed "What was your plan? To dispose of me? To marry me and what? Keep me as a pet?"

....ouch.

He had you pegged.

You wanted to defend yourself, but you didn't have anything to say

"Was it even real? Or am I like Debbie to you? Weak and a waste of time like she was to Omni Man?"

"No-!" You cut him off, reaching for him but being met with an evasive step back

"No. Immortal, I wasn't lying to you" you lied. like a lying liar. "I love you, and you're not like Debbie- you're an equal to me!"

You motioned with your hands as he tensed, allowing you to speak, steadying his glare on your figure

"You're going to live just as long as I am, if not longer! you're not as strong as me, but you could easily pass for a weaker Viltrumite. My people- ugh.... Immortal, they could accept you as one of our own. We could be happy."

His stiff upper lip didn't give you much hope, but when he sighed a deep, heavy sigh, slumping his shoulders and leaning onto you, you knew it would be okay

"I'm not like Nolan, I'm not going to let any real harm befall these people. I'm going to prepare them for takeover, they'll be ready. Nobody has to die, Immortal. This will be a safe process if you let it be, and... you can stay with me"

He said nothing, wrapping his arms around you wordlessly and burying his head into your shoulder, his massive frame hunched over you

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke in a soft voice

"I have to protect these people. They're my people."

You lifted his head and cupped his cheek "aren't you tired? We have the resources to protect these people, your people- our people- forever. Wouldn't you like to retire? Wouldn't you like to... settle down?"

That convinced him, and his cracked a soft smile at you

"No needless bloodshed or subjugation?"

You shook your head "A peaceful transfer of power, let the people with millennia of experience take the reigns for a while, put up your feet"

He sighed again, and the tension leaving his body was obvious

"God I can't wait to marry you, Y/n."

You stroked the back of his head and smiled "I can't wait either, Immortal."

Hopefully he wouldn't be too mad when he found out you'd continued to lie to him

but by then, you'd have worn him down enough to be truly okay with it

for now, all you had to do was plan a wedding.

[raayllum]

Hi. I don't mean this to be confrontational at all and apologize if I come off that way. I'm asking purely out of curiosity.

I feel like I rarely see you post any TDP critical takes or engage with TDP critical takes made by others unless you're rebutting those takes. I believe (unless I'm mistaken) you even said once or twice before that you have the "tdp critical" tag blacklisted. I was wondering if there was a particular reason for that. Whether you were just uncomfortable posting anything negative regarding the show given that you're primarily a fanblog or maybe you simply lack takes that are actually critical of the show or for some other reason.

It's absolutely fine if you don't want to share or engage with criticisms of the show. I was just curious why for such an active blog that's even existed since the very beginning of the series I see most exclusively positive takes shared regarding the show by it.

Not confrontational at all! TLDR at the bottom because I'm sorry in advance for how long this is.

It's because of 3 main things:

1) It's my blog so I only really engage and focus on (to the best of my ability) takes that I agree with. Occasionally I rebut more critical takes, but most of my stuff I post is things I wanted to write regardless (like my "why Callum made his choices in 7x02" meta) and then discourse came after I'd started writing the thing privately, but it was still a topic I thought was fun to explore. If people posted critical stuff that I agreed with, I'd probably reblog it, but it has just yet to happen, and I'm not too interested in generating it myself (more on that in a second).

2) I have a background as and was trained to examine things like an English major; I also tutor/teach humanities and literary analysis (and a surprising amount of math) for a living. This does not by any means make me an authority, but it does mean I approach stories from a very specific good faith lens that I think the majority of fandoms in general just... don't? Or at least seem not to, as far as I can tell, but maybe I'm wrong; I don't know what's going on in anyone else's head. (This also does not mean that anyone who's an English major has to or should think this way, or does; this is just how I personally internalized further what I learned from my degree and how it aligned with what I'd already been inclined to do with stories since like, childhood.)

What I mean, therefore, at least (and more elaborate thoughts on it here in terms of the perspective I'm coming from) is that because of my lifelong inclinations of 90% of the time Enjoying Canon / my background, I typically go into stories assuming two things: first, that the story is exactly what is supposed to be; and two, if something doesn't work or make sense to me, I assume first that I'm wrong, and I go looking for reasons about why the story would do this before I pass judgement on it. This can apply to character beats / characterization, execution, plot, etc. just about anything. This doesn't mean that the story can't be 'wrong' (or 'bad'), just that it's never my initial assumption.

My search for reasons/answers also does not mean that I'm going to magically be able to deduce reasons, or that any reasons I find are objectively correct and/or intentional or have to work for anyone else; sometimes I can't find the reasons (which to me is my biggest indicator that a story is not for me or no longer for me). Sometimes I find the reasons and it still isn't 'good' or is still not my preference (a good example would be when I thought a TV show randomly paired 2 characters together that I was a not a fan of in their s4, and I still don't like them together, but when I got to S5 I was like "Oh yeah, for plot reasons, of course you'd pair them together, that makes perfect sense") but I know I'm giving things a fair shake. I'm engaging with the story as is, which is my primary interest, not necessarily what I expect or even want the story to be. No piece of media promised to be my ideal; I entered in the story contract of being along for THEIR ride and gauging if the loop-de-loops are a thing I'd enjoy, but they're not going to (nor do they need to) tell my story to be 'Good'.

I've shipped things or enjoyed ideas that would 100% make a story worse if it was canon, and I didn't want them to be canon! I didn't need them to be, either. I'm interested in learning, growing, and adjusting with whatever is presented to me, and if I can't do that (or am no longer enjoying doing so) then it's time for me to go. This doesn't mean I never approach stories from a lens of 'here's what they could do better' (I'm not a big fan of She-Ra or The Owl House, which are both notoriously popular, and I have Thoughts on both of them; I can talk all day long about how structurally broken but fun Frozen is, or how poorly butchered the Star Wars sequel trilogy is) but that's usually when a story has a persistent flaw to me on a structural or overarching basis—consistent tonal issues (which I don't take seriously even for shows like Shera that I think have them, because I'm the adult choosing to watch stuff made for children so of course the tone's not for me) or broken lore, ableist/racist writing, or too many underdeveloped characters or retcons. A single scene, episode, or season (depending on the percentage of the show it is, if it's a full third or something than yeah that's more of an issue)—depending on the severity of the fumble—is probably not going to be enough for me to be pissed about it.

Part of this also stems, I think, from giving stories the grace that I'd want my own to receive some day, but I digress.

I also know from my experiences as writer is that sometimes the choices I (or a story has made) won't work for everyone, wasn't made to work for everyone, and what I dislike about a thing is 100% a choice that the author was making On Purpose that they love, and well - it's their story, isn't it? So holding space for "this is how I subjectively feel, this is what I think the story was trying to do, here's why I feel it didn't quite hit that goal, or did have the pay off to set up (just not in the manner I'd predicted" is like, important to me to all hold simultaneously as separate things that can occasionally overlap.

3) As stated before, I do have critiques—quite a few, actually—for TDP (a few I've briefly touched on here before, such as its lack of female-female relationships) but generally speaking I've never seen anybody else have the same ones.

Part of this is undoubtedly because I don't go looking, but I've also been in the fandom for 6+ years and have seen a Lot of critique for the show to the point it all gets redundant/recycled (hence the blacklist because I've never agreed with any of it) and I do think—not all—but a lot of is just... not that well founded in the text or just not very well expressed, which makes it harder to understand where people are coming from. I've written before about different types of fandom critique (vague/assumptive vs more specific critique which I think is more communicative/productive) but I know for myself, my critique is going to be Consistent for the whole show and specific about why I think what I think. If something bothers me in one season, I'm gonna meticulously check to be like "is this in other seasons? did it bother me then? if so, why or why not?" and if I'm not being consistent on that basis in terms of where and why I'm levelling critique, that's gonna change my mind.

For example, I think S6 repeats a lot of dialogue / ideas, sometimes almost if not directly back to back in scenes, and sometimes in exceedingly similar ways, particularly at the Starscraper sections of the story. For example, Kosmo explains that "on every moonless night, a blizzard rages and shrouds the heavens" and then Kosmo repeats the exact same information like 7 minutes later in the exact same way: "for centuries on every moonless night, a blizzard rages and shrouds the heavens." And it would be one thing if these repetitions were like, in different episodes, because not everyone is going to binge or watch the previously on, and you gotta get audiences caught up. That's why Karim and Miyana have a similar discussion/repetition in 4x08 and 4x09 respectively, but we're in the same episode in S6, we like Just learned this. I don't necessarily know what information we'd put in the 2nd instance with Kosmo instead (maybe highlighting his desire to see the stars, foreshadowing that he'll be timeblind further?) but I've looked for a reason for the repetition, and while I think it's a cool idea for Kosmo to have a tendency to repeat things as a character quirk / set up his affinity for being timeblind (because to deal with alternate timelines is to deal with repetition until things branch off) it's not a satisfactory reason for me.

Or like, S2 has my least favourite pacing in the show, because while I adore the flashback episodes and they're really fucking important for theme (my number one fave thing!!) they do cause the middle of the season to more or less grind to a halt in terms of the main storyline when 2x04 was already more of a transition / filler episode (which we needed after the Moon Nexus arc, 2x04 is one of my fave eps in the season, but it would typically be a transition episode to move us into a new plot section of the story, & that's not quite what happens here, so the pacing drags a lil).

But I don't think season 2's pacing is bad. I don't think 6x04 is a bad episode or that Kosmo is a poorly written character. It's just not my personal preference, and I think I'm a lot more cautious about using that metric (my enjoyment, my preferences, how relatable it is to me, etc) to discern how "good" a story is quality wise. A story can be a great story even if there is nothing relatable in it to me or if it makes me deeply uncomfortable, because art can exist for a lot of different reasons and my limited-ass white western perspective or personal story preferences is not the be-all end-all. I think TDP is a beautiful example of rejecting punitive punishment, and I've gotten more pro-abolish prisons as I've gotten older, but some of my own works have characters who chase revenge and that's the portrayed as the right thing to do, because not everything has to line up perfectly or have a singular way in which to align. It's interesting to explore a variety of viewpoints and that's the whole reason I write.

None of this means I never use my personal preferences or enjoyment as a metric, but that's usually when I'm making recommendations to people or just talking about my personal feelings, and I don't tend to lean on those much when it comes to Analyzing a story other than a jumping off point of "Huh this scene made me emotional, I wonder why? [examines the narrative for set up and pay off]". Cause I think I do, ultimately, consider myself a meta blog, and that's always been my #1 in fandom ever since I got into fandom at 12 years ago, that's what I love doing and engaging in.

If people wanted to have Actual Discussions of "this character beat felt ooc" and they could present their evidence from the text (similar scenes where a character responded differently or something or whatever), and I could say "oh, interesting, that felt in character to me because of XYZ" and I would present my evidence for the text, and we would go back and forth both having a good time before probably respectfully agreeing to disagree, I'd love to engage just for the discussion, I love character and characterization analysis. One of the most fun times I ever had was arguing both for and against the "S4 Rayla is a fake/illusion" theory before the season released because it was fun to consider and counter stuff. I have one friend who's also autistic and back in university we would just swap contrarian story viewpoints for like, an hour on something we had both read, and it was the best. (That friend loved the end of Game of Thrones, which like no one fucking liked, and also has S4 and S7 as like their top 2 TDP seasons, which isn't even true for me, god bless their soul.)

But I would say at least 70-85% of the time when people are critiquing a thing, while it might be coming from a consciously analytical standpoint, that's not what they want to express or that's not how they express it (or at least, not in a way that I can personally understand). They want to vent, and I've definitely done that before with stories myself, I get it. Sometimes a story pisses you off and you just gotta vent. But I'm not going to engage with someone who's venting unless I agree, and if it becomes clear that they are after I do engage because I think maybe they're not venting, and then they are, then I'm just gonna leave 'em in peace. I hope they're having a great time / get whatever they need out of the process.

I also just... am not going to post things I don't agree with. I'm not gonna pretend to have critiques I don't. If I have a critique on... anything that I felt was worth posting about, I would. I don't think I do. Like, I walked out of S4 feeling so happy and excited and content with the season as a whole, MUCH more than I felt when first walking out of S6 or S7, but like I process that shit privately and now I really do like those seasons, so? Yeah.

I think a lot of my disdain for Heavy constant critique comes back to like, I remember being like 13-14 years old and being so excited to come onto tumblr and find out what the ATLA fandom was analzying, because it's in many ways the show I reverse engineered literary analysis from (Katara-Azula was an early, apparent, and favourite foils dynamic of mine, for example) and there's so many lovely things about it. At that point my fandom experiences had been like a really small fandom of a show that wasn't that good but we loved it for what it is, and HTTYD, which had a very thoughtful thriving community of analyzers, and they would debate episodes and ideas in a very friendly manner even if they didn't always agree. So getting on ATLA tumblr and seeing nothing but hate for so much of the show for miles, and seeing so much hate for all the specific things that I loved the most, and that were the most meaningful to me and that I was stupid or childish to like or enjoy or get excited about them, broke my heart honestly. And I just never want to be that or potentially contribute to that for anyone else; I really don't. And at a certain point, if your critique does align with the majority takeaway, you gotta ask yourself if you wanna or really need to toss your hat in the ring and if you'd be adding anything to it, because sometimes we don't all need to comment on every single particular XYZ thing has commented on (no I didn't like the Crowlord jokes in S4, I don't like his character in general, he's also barely in the show, my dislike does not matter to me; the story uses him for comedic relief, he objectively fulfills that role even if he doesn't subjectively work for me, it is small potatoes, I'd rather focus on the more interesting, more prominent things that I love).

TLDR;

Thus far, every time TDP has done something I went ??? about, I've found a reason + one that worked for me, or it's small enough that it's a nitpick. If I don't love all parts of canon, then I stop enjoying it, and if I stop enjoying it, I leave the fandom. If I'm in the fandom, then I love and appreciate all parts of it, even if things may not always necessarily align with my preferences. I'm interested in seeing what the story is doing and focusing on that with my blog, my primary interest is not based in what I want it to do (not saying that's where anyone who does critique the show is coming from or that it's lesser to do so, this just how I'm conceptualizing the difference in mindset, but maybe I'm wrong about where the divide is or what the mindset is). 90% of the time whatever the show does I end up liking more or finding more interesting anyway, and I've also never had anything align with my specific brain more than TDP has. Kinda simple as that, in some ways.