#and it’s because of that dream that they’re gone

[pukefactory]

You gotta help me dawg- if your requests are open

Can I get Hollyberry with a devoted and affectionate reader?

◆ ━━❪ SUGAR IN MY TEETH ❫━━ ◆

➜ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Hollyberry X A Devoted Reader

➜ Character(s): Hollyberry Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

➜ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

➜ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

➜ Image Credits: @Devsisters

♡ You learned quickly that Hollyberry Cookie isn’t one for idle flattery—so when you call her your heart’s fiercest champion, she actually pauses. A beat. A silence. She roars with laughter next, slapping you on the back so hard your teeth rattle, but her cheeks are berry-warm. “Oh-ho! You flatter like a poet in armor! I LIKE THAT.” She calls you that sometimes now—poet in armor—because every time you speak, you arm her soul.

♡ No matter the battle, your voice cuts through the clamor like a battle horn. “Behind you!” “Left flank!” “I’ve got you!” She hears you like a prayer. You’re not the strongest fighter—she’d never let you on the front lines alone—but your devotion is the kind that sings. She’s said more than once that your trust is mightier than her shield. “And it’s a legendary shield, too! But your faith in me? That’s what makes me invincible!”

♡ There’s an unspoken ritual whenever she returns from campaign. You run to her. Not with desperation—but with certainty. You catch her in a hug before the dust has even settled from her boots. “Welcome home,” you whisper, even though her heart never left yours. She swings you in her arms and spins you around like victory itself. “You waited for me again! Ah, my braveheart! Let’s raise a toast to patience and passion!”

♡ Hollyberry Cookie has a whole room in the palace turned into a tasting hall—not for herself, but for you. Because she’s memorized your favorite drinks, your giggle after three cups, your sleepy smile after four. “What’s devotion if I can’t keep your cup full, hm? What sort of queen would I be then?” She calls it “The Lover’s Table,” and won’t let anyone sit there but you.

♡ She once tried to carve your name into her shield—but ended up slicing through it and had to commission a new one. (“A minor scratch! Well…a divine catastrophe, but never mind that!”) Now she keeps a tiny engraved charm of your name tied to her gauntlet instead. “It guards my punching hand,” she says with a wink. “So I never forget who I’m fighting for.”

♡ When she’s wounded, you’re the only one she lets see. She brushes off the medics, laughs off the bruises, but when the doors close, and she’s in your arms—bandages and all—she sighs like a war drum gone quiet. “I’m not made of steel, love,” she mutters into your hair. “But with you? I never fall apart.” Your kisses always land gentler than any healer’s balm.

♡ One time, a court noble questioned your closeness to the Queen Mother. “They’re not even nobility,” he sneered. Before he could blink, Hollyberry’s shield was embedded in the banquet table, two inches from his cup. “And your point, you soggy crouton?” she bellowed, laughing. “My beloved could be made of crumbs and dreams, and still be worth more than your powdered wig!”

♡ She dreams of adventure with you—not duty. She wants to elope into chaos. She’s told you a dozen times: “Forget royal banquets—run away with me to the wilds!” You thought she was joking. Until she dragged you out at dawn, mounted on a battle boar, holding a basket full of wine and meat pies. “Adventure’s the truest kind of love story, don’t you think?” You’ve never looked back since.

♡ You have a habit of calling her “my sunshine berry,” and at first she’d laugh boisterously—“You’re ridiculous! I like it!” But now, in the quiet after battle, when she’s half-asleep in your lap with an empty cup in hand, you’ll hear it—barely whispered: “Sunshine berry…�� Like a charm. Like a spell. Like your name on her tongue when she’s too tired to dream of anything else but you.

♡ And on your quietest nights, when your love isn’t booming like a toast but soft like summer dusk, she looks at you like she’s never been a hero before. Like you were the first person who ever saw her as more than a shield or a legacy. “You love me like I’m just a person,” she murmurs once, voice thick with awe. “But you’ve made me feel like a legend.”

[keepingitformyself]

but i am flesh and blood (and this flesh has needs) ii

synopsis: even with the snow finally melted you find yourself questioning whether it’s even possible to protect the girl you love from something that doesn’t bleed. or is she too far gone to come back?

pairings: lottie matthews x reader

genre: angst, violent themes, fluff.

warnings: blood, typical yellowjackets violence.

word count: 4.3k

read the first part here

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

three months before the spring.

it doesn't feel as cold as it used to. but that doesn’t help much when you’ve spent the past few weeks crammed in some splintering wooden hut with everyone else. it doesn’t ease the weight of losing the cabin that still burns despite its ultimate collapse weeks ago.

the snow still bites at your skin when the wind gets harsher. your ribs still ache with the hunger you’ve grown accustomed to. but lottie still holds you close despite it all. she still whispers silent prayers with her arms wrapped around you. she lets you cry into the curve of her neck when you need to. she says, ‘i love you’ like it’s the only truth she’s never cracked. she looks at you like you’re the one thing that’s always felt real.

and you kiss her when you need to remember that she’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt for you out here.

you start to have dreams shortly after the cabin burns down. sometimes they’re pleasant. dreams of you living another life. a life where you still play soccer, where lottie is there loving you, like nothing bad has ever touched you both. like, there wasn’t some strange and unfortunate string of fate that brought you together.

other times, the dreams are cruel, scarier. the cabin is there, whole again, but nothing about it feels right. people who shouldn’t be there are alive. greying, blue corpses that talk. you smell the smoke, but there’s no fire. and you feel the heat despite feeling the harsh wind of the cold blowing through the hut.

when the flames finally do come, you shoot awake from your sleep. your breathing is laboured, and tears stain your cheeks. lottie is already there to hold your hand. like it’s some twisted routine you’ve both come up with. you never ask, she doesn’t either. she’s just always there, like maybe she was waiting for you to come back.

you think maybe she was. maybe she also has the same dreams.

one night, when the dreams seem more brutal, lottie is there again to hold you close. you wake in quiet sobs enough to wake the others up. lottie cradles you, holds you close to her chest, and you let the sound of her breathing ground you as you sob into her collarbone.

“you’re safe,” she repeats into your hair. you believe it. because god has never answered your prayers the way she did.

the others watch with worried expressions. natalie looks at you like she’s uncertain of something. tai looks like she wants to reach for you as well, but never does, once catching lottie’s gaze. and shauna doesn’t look at all.

later that day, when you’re supposed to be sourcing wood to build with, you catch lottie again. she’s crouched by a tree, looking distantly at it as if it were speaking to her. you don't announce yourself; instead, she’s already meeting your gaze before you call for her.

“lottie,” you say, but it sounds like a plea. you drop down beside her, her hands reaching for your face.

“what is it?” she asks, but it sounds like she’s barely even here. and you don’t notice how tears start streaming down your face until she’s trying to wipe them off with her thumbs.

“what’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more present. you feel the warmth of her breath hitting your face.

you shake your head, trying to move her hands off you. but she holds on tighter.

“no,” you manage to say.

“what?” she searches your face.

“you have to promise me something,” you say once finally clutching her hands in yours.

lottie looks at you, searching out of confusion, or nervousness, or both.

“look at me,” you say low, but pointedly. “please, look at me.”

“i’m here,” she whispers, “i’m looking.”

you move one of her hands to press against your chest, over your heart.

“do you feel this? the way it beats?”

she nods her head. eyebrows furrowed, “i feel it. i feel you.”

“it means i believe in you,” you whisper, “it means i love you.”

a beat.

“i need you to believe in us, too.”

there’s an agonizingly long pause in between. lottie stays still. like, she won’t answer. like, she can't. but you see the tremble in her lips, the wetness of her eyes starting to show. she gulps down the knot in her throat because, sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t know how to love you without letting this place eat her whole.

lottie knows exactly what you’re asking. understands exactly why you’re asking it. but, nevertheless, she knows. it’s the only thing she feels she’s ever known. the kind of thing that feels like it’s never slipped away. not like the trees she prays to. not like the voices that won’t speak to her.

because in the space between, out of all the fucked up madness that has happened, you’re still the only thing that feels tangible.

the only thing lottie can swear she will always believe in.

lottie releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, a shudder leaving her mouth as she chokes out a sob.

“i do,” she nods. “i swear– i promise,” she chokes back a sob.

she lunges forward, hands immediately finding their place on your face as she presses against your lips. she tastes your tears, salty and warm. she doesn’t even try to wipe them away. instead, she drinks them up like they’re the only thing close to being ordained.

and in that, lottie promises to herself, reminds herself, that she’d choose better. because nothing good has ever lasted long in the wilderness. but maybe you can.

——

you made it to the spring, and for the first time in ages, you were no longer desperate or clinging to some hope that you’d live to see another day. you weren’t actively starving, and you’ve slowly found joy in the new way of things.

and, lottie, well, lottie was still lottie. even after surrendering the crown to natalie, after she survived the hunt, and after claiming the wilderness had chosen her. even after admitting she could no longer hear it. but even then, lottie still believed. she still believed there was a reason everyone was still here. and she still came back from her little solo walks with a fresh wound on her palm. an offering, she’d call it.

you’d just sigh and pull her down to the makeshift bed of your shared hut. you’d wash her palm with the lake water and wrap it in old scraps of cloth. muttering to her that if she was gonna offer something, she could at least try giving it something more convenient.

“could you try offering it a squirrel head or something next time?” you’d joke as you wrapped the fresh wound. lottie didn’t reply, not even a wince when you tightened the cloth around her hand.

“you should come with me,” she replied instead. you looked up at her expectantly. you hadn’t tried much to feel what lottie felt in the last months. but she still wanted you to believe, even if she couldn’t hear it as clearly as before. she tried with the others. she tried to keep them believing, and she tried with you. but people could only humor her for so long.

you hesitated for a moment. months ago, you would have followed her wordlessly. you would have reached for her. you would have let her pull you under until the cold didn’t bite at your skin anymore.

now, you still reached for her, but not for the same reasons. there was no hunger, no desperate need to cling to something that felt greater than you did. you changed; you had to. because you loved lottie, you loved her, and you knew that if you ended up like her, it’d end up destroying you both. you needed to be sane so that you could be there for when she needed to come back.

maybe you didn’t believe in the wilderness anymore. but you believed in her.

you smiled at lottie, holding her wounded hand in yours and bringing it to your lips. “yeah.” you nodded, agreeing with her. “i’ll go with you next time.” lottie smiled at that. you would go. even if you didn’t want to. even if it’s the last thing you’d want to do. you’d do it for her. you’d do it to keep her happy.

the days pass on as they always have. you have your weekly meetings with natalie as an advisor, along with taissa, gen, and van. you play ‘capture the bone’ along with the girls, and lottie always kisses you when you arrive back, whether in defeat or victory. and mari and shauna still bicker over their petty girl drama, and you always are thankful for having that entertainment around.

until mari goes missing.

it’s days of scavenging the surrounding woods. there isn’t any luck at all. even if you’ve tried every single trail you’ve covered in your months here. and just as you’re discussing with taissa and natalie what the next step should be. just as you’re about to decide that pronouncing mari dead as a possibility, she comes stumbling into the village, knee wrapped in a cloth as she limps across the yard.

the girls all rush towards her. helping her settle down, checking her for any injury besides her knee. you feel yourself let out the biggest sigh of relief that you didn’t have to lose someone else. at least not today.

but it all feels full circle once mari mentions being held captive by coach ben. a name you didn’t think you’d ever hear again. a man natalie had tried to convince everyone was dead. he should’ve been dead. but he isn’t. he’s holed up in some cave drinking hot chocolate.

everyone jumps at the idea of going off to find him once shauna mentions it.

“he tried to burn us alive.” you watch in shock as she spits the words out. natalie is the only one who protests against it before shauna storms off, inviting anyone to go with her in capturing him.

lottie doesn’t seem to be ecstatic about the whole ordeal. violence is usually the last thing she wants to partake in. she just nods encouragingly, understanding if it’s something that needs to be done.

you silently pack for the trip that evening before going off with the group to find him. a small part of you is hoping you won't have to bring ben back and make him face the wrath of a bunch of angry teenage girls.

“you’re scared,” lottie says from the entrance of the hut. you look up at her towering figure and huff out a laugh before turning back to what you were doing. “i’m not scared.” you don't know why you lie.

“don't lie,” she says softly, as she kneels beside you. “you don’t have to be scared,” she says it like it’s the simplest thing ever. like, this isn't ben you’re talking about. a man who you once trusted, a man you looked to for guidance. this was coach ben. coach ben, who let you sit out on practices when he saw you were too lost in your own head. he was the last piece of humanity left. the only reminder of wiskayok that wasn’t so fractured by what has become of all of you.

and you’re not sure what scares you more. the fact that he was still alive or that his capture may inevitably lead to his death.

“i just…i don’t think we should do this,” you confess. lottie all but stares at you. patient, waiting, listening, inviting you to say what you need to. like she always has.

“i mean he– he didn’t kill mari,” you start. “he let her go. he let her come back.” there’s more conviction to your words as you regain your confidence. “if he was so dangerous, wouldn’t he have left her to die?” you finish.

lottie hums, not in agreement or dismissal. she grabs your hand in hers and runs her fingers over the insides of your wrist. in some way grounding you. “he still left us.” she replies.

and that’s what it takes for you to understand fully. maybe it didn’t matter that he might’ve started the fire at the cabin, that he let mari go. maybe this was about the fact that he chose to abandon you all in search of his solitude. that he would have rather suffered alone than with all of you.

he could have chosen to stay. he could've chosen to believe. he could have survived with all of you. but he didn’t. maybe that’s why everyone was so angry. because he gave up on them.

lottie watches as the realization settles on your face. the way your mouth parts, the way you feel your throat tighten.

“don't be scared.” she says again, pulling your hand in to kiss your wrist. “we’re here. we’re here together.” you close your eyes as her words settle within you. when you open them again moments later, all you feel is that pull towards her. the one that’s always been there. only this time, it doesn’t feel like you need it to survive. you feel her. and you love her.

you love her more than the fear of what comes next.

she holds your hand in yours for a moment longer. then, with a final squeeze of her hand, you rise to your feet and sling your pack over your shoulder, ready to head off.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, brushing a kiss against the arch of her brow before finding her lips.

"i know," she whispers, smiling.

you're gone until morning light. walking behind ben and natalie, you catch her gaze just before entering camp, a silent plea, a reminder to have her back for what comes next.

it all happens fast. shauna storms toward natalie the moment they set foot in camp, eyes blazing with the need for justice now that coach ben is in their grasp. but natalie is ready for her. she won’t let this end in blind violence.

“there has to be a trial,” she says, voice steady.

the anger in shauna’s face all but rises. her fists clenched at her sides. “after everything he’s done, you want this to be about fairness?” her voice accusatory, annoyed. melissa, from behind her speaks up in her defense, “he literally tried to burn our fucking home down!”

but you know what you’ve all become out here just as much as natalie does. what you’re trying your best not to continue to be. everything can’t be done in rage.

you step closer behind natalie, you let her feel you there. present. solid. understanding that you know she’s trying her best to do the right thing. even though she’s terrified. even if she doesn’t know what to name it.

a line has to be drawn, right? something no one should dare cross. this is that. like the thing lottie has always explained to you. some things are left out of your hands. some things happen because we aren’t meant to decide them.

and then, like you summoned her with a thought, lottie steps forward. “natalie is right. life and death has always been for it to decide.”

you see how her eyes find you as she says it, not seeking agreement but offering a reminder. of what you’ve once believed. of what she still believes.

you don’t always know what lottie hears anymore. she’s quieter than she used to be, her certainty less loud, but it’s still there, alive in the way she looks at the world and at you.

there’s a long silence. coach ben shifts between his feet.

“okay,” mari speaks up, warily. “how does a trial even look like out here?”

you glance back at lottie. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn't need to. this part is yours. this is up to the rest of you.

natalie shares a look between you and lottie before she steps forward. “we gather everyone. lay out what we know, and take a vote. it isn’t perfect…but it’s something.”

you hear shauna’s huff at her words. her nose flares in frustration, and you know she has something to say but decides against it. instead, she storms off into her hut, melissa trailing behind her.

natalie glances to you at her side, another silent plead. an agreement. you give her a nod. you have her back, no matter what. people disperse into their groups, you hear the mutterings, the doubts. some already taking sides. you don’t care.

you’re just glad there’s still some order to things around here.

you close your eyes for a moment and inhale. you don’t have to open your eyes to know that lottie has appeared next to you. her hand brushes yours, and it feels like coming down to earth. you exhale. when you open them again, you find her looking right at you. it’s there. a knowing. a stillness. how she knows exactly when you need her. you cling to that.

everyone gathers in the center of the village not long after. you sit quietly beside misty and ben, your knee bouncing, heart lodged somewhere between your chest and throat. you scan the faces around the table, searching for something. certainty, doubt, anything human.

your eyes catch on lottie when you glance behind you.

she’s across from you, expression unreadable as she shuffles the deck of cards with steady hands. when your eyes meet, she doesn’t say a word. but she doesn’t have to. you know her. and you know what silence like that means.

when van steps forward and announces natalie as the judge, your stomach twists. the weight of it hits you all at once. how real this is. how far you've come. how far you've fallen.

you turn to misty, voice low but certain. “misty.” she looks at you, wide-eyed.

“give it everything you’ve got.”

the whole trial is anything but easy. it’s stressful, terrifying, and relentless. mari shares her side. then shauna. you're almost ready to object when lottie steps up, until you realize where misty is steering the narrative. then natalie takes the stand, and it’s brutal watching her get shut down again and again once everyone learns she knew ben was alive. you want to speak up, to defend her, but she shoots you a look that says, not now. don’t risk it.

so you bite your tongue, even though it burns.

when ben takes the stand, you can barely look at him. he’s a shadow of the man you remember, broken and hollowed out by everything he’s endured.

he doesn’t even try to defend himself anymore, not really, but there’s still this heartbreaking honesty in the way he answers. like he knows it won’t save him, but he has to speak anyway. and then he starts talking about his life. all the things he hated, all the ways he felt stuck, but says it was all bearable because he got to coach you. the team. because he saw something in everyone that no one else ever bothered to look for.

you feel your throat close up, eyes burning. there’s no way, there’s just no way everyone in this room still wants to kill him. how can they? how can you? how can you all be about to vote him guilty? he’s not a monster. he’s not the villain of this story. he’s just a man who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. and now he’s going to die for it.

when it comes to voting, you have hope. it’s all you have for this. the one thing you’ve always held onto since being here. lottie looks teary-eyed, so does tai, and travis; they all do. but still, a part of you knows a few tears aren’t enough to save a man from death.

natalie glances at you as she approaches the table, jaw tight, like she doesn’t know whether to be hopeful or nervous.

“okay,” she looks around scanning everyone's faces. “we vote guilty or innocent with the raise of hands.” she gulps. “we vote until we get two-thirds.”

the first round. guilty, guilty, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, guilty, innocent, innocent, innocent. but it isn’t two-thirds.

“that’s not two-thirds,” natalie calls as she scans everyone's hands. “we have to vote again… until people change their vote.”

it’s silent. then again. people raise their hands. fall again. then raise. again. again. again.

it’s brutal, silent, and feels like crushing something soft. every. single. time. like you’re all operating some mechanical machine meant to press things closed until there’s no air left. you keep your hand steady. you never change your mind. but you feel it. you feel the pressure winning.

and then shauna disrupts. angry, upset, and nothing of what she says, nothing she does, is supposed to be allowed. natalie tries to disrupt her. to tell her this isn’t right. that she isn’t allowed to intercept the vote in any way. of course, shauna doesn't listen. all she has to do is give natalie some look before she cowers back.

and all shauna has to do to manipulate everyone is appeal to their emotions. to remind them that ben still left them, and so he must've burned the cabin down. in that, she also manages to make everyone question natalie’s leadership.

this time, van, shauna, melissa, gen, travis, akilah, and lottie all vote guilty.

when it’s over, the two-thirds is met. ben is found guilty. the sentence comes next.

you block the rest out. numbing all of it, as if ignoring it might make it less real. but it’s real. it’s all very real. and someone is going to die because of it.

you don’t even look at lottie. not right away, at least. too upset to even look her in the eyes. but you do glance up eventually, and you see the look in her eyes. like she knows what she’s just done, like maybe she’s hopeful you’ll understand. like she didn’t just let the fucking trees decide for her.

and the worst part is she thinks she did the right thing.

even if it hurt you in the end.

you huffed, walking off before you could say something cruel. lottie doesn’t try to follow you.

you tried to cool off. you walked laps around the edge of camp, hands stuffed into your pockets. you try to make sense of everything that’s just happened, but it never becomes clearer to you. and you decided it isn’t something you wanted to try and understand, especially if it isn’t something that felt right.

when you return to camp, it’s already the evening. you miss dinner, but you don’t find yourself caring.

lottie is there when you enter your shared hut—quickly rising to her feet as soon as she sees you, like she’s ready for whatever you’re about to give her.

but you don’t. you don’t give her anything.

you clench your jaw and brush past her, ready to head off to bed in the cot you share with her. you go through your motions of getting ready for bed and when you’re done you lay facing the wall of the hut, avoiding looking at lottie at all. she decides she’d break the silence instead.

“i know you’re mad,” she starts, stepping closer to the cot's edge. “but, you have to understand that i chose what it made me feel.”

her words make something in you snap, like all the anger you’ve held onto all day has finally reached its limit. you turn to face her, she doesn’t cower back when she notices the obvious anger on your face.

“well, i am mad,” you say with a silent venom. “i’m fucking upset, lot.”

“i just wanted to–”

“no!” you hiss, rising from the cot to look her eye to eye. “i told you how i felt, and you took that and didn’t think about what it would feel like for me when you chose something i was obviously against.”

lottie blinks slowly at you. she gives you that small, unadulterated smile as if she understands that you may not see it her way. and if she’s offended by your words, she doesn’t show it.

“i know it may seem unfair, but sometimes it knows more than we do. sometimes, it’ll show us things to push us towards a certain direction–”

“weren’t you the one who said some things aren’t for us to decide?” you counter.

“they aren’t.” she says, steadily.

“then why?” you demand. “you saw how broken he was! he’s innocent. hell, you even cried during his testimony, lottie.”

“we all voted,” she steps closer, trying to reach for your hand. “we all felt something and chose.”

“no,” you shake your head, stepping back. you feel the lump in your throat tighten. “don’t do that. don’t hide behind it.”

she calls your name, as if hearing her say it may bring you back to her. as if maybe it’d get you to understand. “i didn’t want it to end this way.”

you try to swallow down the tears, try to force yourself not to just yell at her for what will happen. part of you understands this isn't her fault. that it isn’t anything she can help. still, you can’t help but want to blame someone for the way things are. if it’s even something that can be protected from the kind of thing that doesn’t bleed, but continues to demand sacrifice.

you whisper, broken but clear. “don’t you remember what you promised?”

you see the glass start to break. her mouth parts, eyes turn glassy. you hear her small exhale at your words.

“i don’t want to lose you.” she whispers.

“then don’t.”

[actuallybean]

Truth Hurts* | Part Three

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Four Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @hail-brod @s1mplyl0vely @ladykitana90 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @jenniferpendragon Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You stared at them—Dean at the foot of the bed, Sam beside him, both standing like the weight of your confession had knocked something loose inside them. They weren’t laughing. They weren’t teasing. They weren’t running.

They were quiet. And still. And far too serious.

Dean’s eyes searched yours, that usual cocky glint gone—what remained was heat, yes, but also something more complex. Reverence. Regret. Longing.

“You think I didn’t notice how you look at us?” he said finally, voice low. “I did. Hell, I noticed it so long ago, I thought I made it up.”

Your mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t give you the space to interrupt.

“I’d hear you shower at night in those godawful motels after a hunt, and I’d be lying in my bed staring at the ceiling, fists clenched, because if I let myself think about it too hard, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He took a breath, like even saying it now took effort. “I’ve dreamed about you in my bed. Your hands in my hair. Your voice whispering my name while Sam’s got his hands on you too. I’ve wanted that. Us. Not just one. All three.”

Your heart stopped.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He looked torn between pacing and falling to his knees. “I thought it was selfish,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Wanting you and knowing Dean wanted you too. So I buried it. We both did. I figured if either of us tried anything, we’d wreck everything. You’d feel like you had to choose.”

His gaze locked with yours, dark and aching. “But when you confessed just now… it didn’t sound like something you were afraid of. It sounded like something you needed.”

Your breath hitched.

“I do,” you whispered. “I tried to stop it. I thought it was just a crush at first, but… it’s more. So much more.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, voice ragged. “You’re in my goddamn blood, sweetheart. I see your shampoo bottle in the bathroom, and I think about what it’d be like to have you in my bed for real. Not just once. Not as a mistake. Ours.”

Sam stepped closer, slowly, carefully—his gentleness always the counterpoint to Dean’s fire. “We can’t undo this. But maybe we don’t have to.”

You looked between them—Dean, burning and intense, and Sam, deep and steady like a current beneath your skin.

“Are you saying…” You swallowed, voice small. “You’d… share me?”

Dean arched a brow. “I’m saying we already have been, emotionally. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Sam’s lips curved in a small, half-pained smile. “Maybe it’s time we stop pretending we don’t all feel the same thing.”

You let out a shaky breath, every nerve lit with impossible relief and deep, thrumming desire. “This isn’t just the curse talking. I’ve wanted this. For so long.”

“We know,” Dean said, stepping closer now, enough to gently tug the hem of the shirt you wore—his shirt. “But now you’ve said it. And I don’t want to keep pretending I haven’t wanted it too.”

You reached for his wrist, grounding yourself—and your other hand reached for Sam. He took it without hesitation, fingers curling tightly into yours.

There it was.

Truth.

Raw and open and impossibly fragile.

But in that moment, none of you were afraid of it anymore.

✦

The silence after the confessions wasn't awkward—it was electric. A delicate, trembling sort of quiet that felt more like standing at the edge of something huge than something broken.

Dean hadn't moved, still watching from the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest, lips pursed—but not with judgment. His eyes were molten, dark with a hunger he wasn't bothering to hide anymore, but something else swam beneath it too. He was waiting.

Waiting for you.

Waiting for Sam.

And Sam—God, Sam looked like someone had handed him a fragile thing he never thought he’d deserve. His thumb brushed across the back of your hand, gentle, reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you. His eyes flicked to yours, and then he stepped closer, kneeling on the bed in front of you like it was instinct.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to do this,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered just beside your ear, his palm barely grazing your cheek. “Just… be this close. Without fear. Without hiding it.”

You couldn’t look away from him. Not with his eyes like that—gentle, unflinching, full of quiet devotion. Sam never needed to raise his voice to make you feel like you were seen. It was just the way he looked at you, like you were made of stars and time and everything he could never bring himself to ask for.

“You’ve always looked at me like that,” you murmured, voice shaking.

He smiled, small and sad. “And you’ve always looked away.”

You nodded, blinking rapidly. “I thought I’d imagined it. That I was projecting. Or hoping too hard.”

Sam’s voice dropped, low and gravel-warm. “You weren’t.”

He leaned in just a bit, enough that his forehead touched yours, and the breath you didn’t realize you were holding stuttered in your chest. His hand cupped your jaw now, thumb skimming your cheekbone.

“I love how brave you are,” he whispered. “How you fight even when you’re scared. How you laugh at Dean’s worst jokes and still roll your eyes like you’re above it. How you hold yourself together after every goddamn hunt like the world didn’t almost break you.”

Your throat tightened. “Sam…”

His lips almost brushed yours—but stopped. Hovering.

“I think I started falling in love with you the first time you patched me up without flinching,” he murmured. “You didn’t even blink. You just held me.”

You leaned in, your nose brushing his. “I remember. You were shaking. I thought you were gonna pass out.”

He smiled against your skin. “I almost did. You were holding my ribs and I was trying not to imagine what your hands would feel like on my hips.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh—and then a small gasp when Sam finally kissed you.

It wasn’t desperate or rough. It was slow, sure. Patient. Like he’d waited long enough and didn’t need to rush now that you were here, really here. His lips moved with yours like he already knew your rhythm, already knew how to read every inhale and tremble.

Behind you, you felt the mattress shift. Dean had come closer, sitting on the edge now, saying nothing—but his presence felt like heat at your back, grounding and heavy.

Sam pulled back only slightly, his forehead pressed against yours again. “If we do this… it’s all in. No games. No halfway.”

You nodded. “I don’t want halfway. Not with either of you.”

Dean’s voice was low, warm. “Then come here, sweetheart. Let me touch you too.”

But Sam didn’t let go of your hand.

And you didn’t want him to.

Not yet.

Not while his touch still trembled like this—like he'd waited forever and was afraid you'd disappear again.

[kccisfuckingmagical]

You’re Enough

Alessia Russo x Chelsea! Reader

Warning: Mild angst, insecurities

The night was still warm when you pushed the door open, a soft hum of laughter still buzzing in your veins.

Chelsea’s team dinner had been everything you’d hoped for — champagne, speeches, wild toasts.

Hannah had nearly made you spit out your drink with her toast about Aston Villa and Arsenal — how Villa’s trashing the reds basically handed Chelsea the title early.

"Thank you, Villa!" Hannah had grinned, air toasting to her former club, and you'd all laughed, a little tipsy, a lot giddy.

You still had your heels dangling from one hand, your jacket slung over your shoulder, when you stepped into the house you shared with Alessia.

"Less? Babe, you up?" you called, cheerful, humming from the celebration.

No answer.

Your smile dimmed a little.

You walked further in — and then you saw her.

Alessia Russo, England’s golden girl, Arsenal’s number nine, the one they sang about — on her knees on the living room floor, scrubbing at a stain like it had personally wronged her.

There was an open storage box next to the shelf where her trophies used to be — now empty.

The golden boot? Gone.

Player of the month? Gone.

Goal of the month? Gone.

Every hard-won piece of recognition, stuffed away.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

The buzz from the champagne and the laughter vanished in an instant.

"Baby," you said, soft as anything, already kneeling down beside her.

She didn’t respond — just scrubbed harder, her hands pink and trembling.

You wrapped your arms around her from behind, resting your chin lightly on her shoulder.

She flinched, just slightly — and then sagged back against you like a crumbling wall.

"Hey, hey," you murmured, holding her tighter. "What’s going on?"

For a long, shaky moment, she didn’t answer.

Then —

"I’m not good enough," Alessia whispered, voice wrecked and raw.

You pulled the brush gently from her hand and tossed it aside.

She let you.

She just sat there, breathing brokenly, eyes fixed on the carpet.

"You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, Less," you said softly.

She swallowed hard, finally turning her tear-glossed eyes toward you.

"I didn’t win anything," she said, voice cracking. "I’m just the one who stayed healthy. Bunny missed half the season. Everyone’s injured. I just... I just happened to be there."

You opened your mouth — but she kept going, words tumbling out like she couldn’t stop.

"I couldn’t even score when it mattered. Brighton, Villa — we had the possession, the chances — I couldn’t do it."

Her voice dropped to a shattered whisper.

"They praise me for tracking back, for passing — not for goals. A striker who doesn’t score. What kind of nine is that?"

You felt her pain like a physical thing between you, heavy and suffocating.

"They’re only giving me awards because there’s no one else left standing," she said. "Not because I’m actually good."

You cupped her face, thumbs brushing the tears from her cheeks.

"Less, no," you said fiercely. "You earned every bit of it. You fought every minute. You gave everything you had — for your team, for your dream."

She squeezed her eyes shut, another tear slipping free.

"You didn’t get lucky. You stayed. You showed up. Even when it was hard, even when it hurt, even when your physios tell you you need to rest."

You kissed her forehead gently, cradling her close.

"And that counts for more than you think."

She stayed against you, silent for a long moment — and then, finally, the sobs broke free.

You held her through it all, steady, patient, your hoodie growing damp where her face pressed into you.

You rocked her gently, whispering quiet, grounding words against her hair.

When her breathing finally evened out, you pulled back just enough to press a kiss to her temple.

"Come on," you murmured, wiping her cheeks tenderly. "Let’s do something good tonight. Just you and me."

She sniffled. "Like what?"

You smiled.

"Blanket fort. Ice cream. The dumbest movie we can find. No trophies allowed."

A watery laugh escaped her.

"You’re such a dork," she said, voice hoarse but a little lighter.

"Yeah," you said, grinning, helping her up, "but I’m your dork."

You didn’t let go of her hand as you led her away from the trophies, the bleach smell, the stain she couldn't scrub away.

You would build something better — a safe little world where Alessia Russo didn’t have to be anything but herself.

Where she was enough, just like she always had been.

[loverstrings]

Project Spindle (Chapter Three) - Established Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

She’s always known about her powers, but the truth of where they come from could shatter everything.

a.n - i hate to say but this is one of my favorite chapters so far. the more i write these the more i have dreams about it LOL

spoiler warning for thunderbolts* | masterlist

The room went quiet.

Even Bob stopped fidgeting, his arms slowly lowering from where he’d been mid-dramatic stretch. Ava and Yelena exchanged a glance. Walker straightened from his lean against the wall, jaw tightening with attention. No one moved, but the air shifted—a kind of stillness only the closest teams learn to share.

Alexei emerged from the hallway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, pajama pants decorated with little red stars. He didn't joke, just took in the scene, waiting for the next direction.

Bucky nodded once beside her. “Briefing room?”

She gave a small nod back.

No one questioned it. They just followed.

A few minutes later, the team gathered around the conference table, the soft hum of the tower's tech panels the only sound. Y/N stood at the front, uploading the encrypted files Sam had sent earlier to the holographic display. Her hands shook just slightly as she moved—not from fear exactly, but from the weight of what came next.

Bob flopped into a chair but sat up straighter when he saw her expression. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated before replying. “I don’t know. That’s kinda why we’re here.”

One by one, glowing images bloomed into the air—footage, research files, Hydra insignias. And her name. Again and again.

She took a breath and faced them. “I didn’t know about any of this until yesterday,” she began.

Bob shifted in his seat next to Ava, no longer trying to crack a joke. Ava tilted her head, brows drawing in.

“Is this only about your powers? Or something more?”

“Something more,” Y/N murmured. She turned back to the console and tapped a few keys. “Patch in Sam Wilson and Joaquin Torres.”

Connecting…

Joaquin’s projection appeared first, seated in what looked like a hangar bay. Sam followed a second later, arms crossed over his chest, concern etched into his features.

SAM WILSON (hologram): “Y/N? What’s going on?” JOAQUIN TORRES (hologram): “You good?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, meeting Bucky’s eyes for the briefest second before she faced the screen again.

“I’m alright,” she said with a long sigh. “I just need everyone here because I know this is bigger than me.”

There was a beat of silence. Alexei leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly as he squinted at the file headings behind her.

“Hydra?” he asked. “They always come back, like cockroach.”

Walker let out a quiet scoff from the other side of the room. “Of course it’s Hydra,” he muttered under his breath. “They’re like bad PR—you think it’s gone, then boom. Pops back up.”

Y/N ignored the commentary for now and kept going. “We need a game plan. This is more than me—this is also Wanda. We’ve seen it. She’s an extracted part of me.”

Alexei rubbed a hand over his beard, shaking his head. “This is like Frankenstein.”

Yelena nudged him sharply with her elbow. “Dad, shut up.”

Bucky hadn’t moved. “What do you want to do?” he asked her softly.

Y/N hesitated… then looked down at the console and took a steadying breath. “I need to patch in Wanda. And Steve.”

Walker stiffened a little, arms crossing. “You sure that’s a good idea?” 

“She deserves to know,” Y/N said simply. “So does he.”

No one argued.

She tapped the panel again. “Patch in Wanda Maximoff… and Steve Rogers.”

The system chirped.

Connecting…

Wanda appeared first, her hologram flickering beside Sam and Joaquin’s. Her red hair was tangled, her eyes darkened with fatigue and something deeper. Her voice, when it came, was quiet.

WANDA MAXIMOFF (hologram): “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

Y/N looked at her for a long second. Then she nodded once.

“Sam found something. About both of us.” She swallowed. “You were created with the Mind Stone. I wasn’t. Hydra used me… to make you.”

The silence this time was heavier. Wanda’s face shifted slowly—confusion, disbelief, grief.

Y/N stepped back slightly, as if retreating from the weight of her own words. “I thought it was just power signatures. But it wasn’t. They copied me. My genetics, my neural map, my abilities. Then they used the Stone to perfect the next iteration.”

STEVE ROGERS (hologram, joining): “I caught the tail end of that. Y/N… are you alright?”

Y/N turned to his image. “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but that would be a lie.”

Bucky finally moved closer, his hand brushing against hers at her side, grounding her. She didn’t look at him, but she leaned into the contact just enough.

SAM: “We think there’s something worth digging into at the old Sokovia sites. Pre-Strucker. Steve, your contacts might still have a line on the original lab records.”

JOAQUIN: “Most of the intel was wiped, but if we know what we’re looking for, we might be able to trace it.”

WANDA: “If what you’re saying is true…” Her voice wavered. “Then you and I are more connected than I ever understood.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. “I just hope we’re not too late to figure it all out.”

A long silence followed.

Then Bob, bless him, finally muttered, “So… no pressure, right?”

Ava elbowed him. “Bob.” 

“I’m just saying,” he grumbled.

Everyone turned back toward the files as they flickered again, casting a pale glow across the quiet room.

Y/N stood quietly for a beat, then looked up at the holograms and the team around her.

“There’s more,” she said. “I think whatever they used to build this—me, Wanda—whatever they left behind, it’s buried deep. Maybe Sokovia. Maybe wherever Strucker was operating before that. We’re not going to find the truth unless someone digs it up.”

Sam shook his head, already anticipating where this was headed. “If I go anywhere near those sites right now, it puts a target on all of us. Too many eyes on the new Cap.”

Joaquin nodded beside him. “Yeah. We’ve been under more surveillance lately—this kind of move could blow things open.”

Alexei leaned forward with a grunt. “Then I go. Who cares if they see? Let them come.”

Bucky didn’t even turn. “No.” His voice was firm. “Too risky. We need to keep some pressure off our side too.”

A heavy silence settled again. Then Wanda spoke, slower this time.

“I’ll go.” She glanced at the files. “If there’s something left in Sokovia, or before… I might be able to feel it.”

Steve’s projection nodded beside her. “We’re already off grid. We’ll check it out.”

Y/N looked at them both, something tired but resolute behind her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Bucky asked softly, just for her. “There’ll be more files. More answers.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “I have to. I need to know."

----

series taglist:

@rafesgurl, @seventeen-x, @moompie, @starstruckfirecat, @torntaltos, @rlphunter,

[noorpersona]

Favourite Postions: Kyotani (Mad Dog)

It’s not romantic.

Not soft.

Not the kind of thing you read about in books or whisper under moonlight. That’s never been his style. He doesn’t know what to do with delicate. Doesn’t trust the way it trembles in his hands.

But this? You—half-dressed and breathless, bent over the edge of his kitchen counter? That, he understands.

You’re on your toes, hands pressed flat to the cool marble, back curved just right—the shape of you etched into his fucking skull. He could draw it in his sleep. He dreams in the sounds you make when he pulls your hips back, the way your body jerks with every thrust like it’s wired to his own.

He doesn’t say much. Never has. His words come out in grunts, growls, the rough slap of skin meeting skin. But if he did speak, it’d be something filthy. Something true.

You were made for this.

His hands are gripping your hips so tight his knuckles are white, fingers bruising into your skin because he can’t help it. Because when you're moaning into the countertop, head down, begging without even using words—he loses every last bit of control. He needs to hear it. Needs to see the way your thighs tremble and your breath hiccups and your voice cracks when he hits that spot, again, again, just to see how long it takes until you’re shaking.

He watches your back arch. Watches your fingers claw at the edge of the counter. Watches your mouth fall open when he pulls out just far enough to make you whine and slams back in harder, teeth gritted, forehead slick with sweat.

You always take it so good. Too good. Like you want to be ruined by him.

And fuck if that doesn’t make his brain go static.

Sometimes, he bites.

Okay—a lot of the time.

Your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your spine—he leaves marks where no one else can see, but he knows they’re there. And you do too. Every bruise is a reminder. A signature. His. And no one else’s.

“Mine,” he says, voice low and rough, more growl than word. You nod, half-gone already, and that’s not enough.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp, all wrecked and breathless and perfect.

He groans like it hurts. Like it breaks something in him.

And then it happens.

You clamp down around him, a sudden, high-pitched cry leaving your throat like it caught you by surprise. You shudder, full-body, like your nerves short-circuited—hands scrambling, thighs locking around nothing as your orgasm crashes into you so hard it’s almost violent.

He freezes.

Just for a second.

Because something about the way you shake isn’t just pleasure—it’s raw. Guttural. Almost like you’re crying. Like something inside snapped loose and let everything spill out at once.

“Hey,” he mutters, voice still rough, but quieter now, buried in your hair as he slows, just slightly. "You good?"

You nod too fast. Too many times.

“‘M fine,” you whisper, breath hitching. "It just... surprised me."

You’re still trembling under him, and he can feel the way your pulse is racing. He leans over your back, mouth brushing your shoulder as he steadies his grip and moves again—but this time, slower. Controlled. Still deep. Still rough. But different.

Measured.

Because Kyōtani’s not good at talking, but he can listen. And he knows you. Knows what panic sounds like under pleasure. Knows the difference between a scream and a sob.

So he gives you something steady to hold onto. Gives you his breath against your skin, his hand tangled with yours now instead of holding you down.

He bites your shoulder one more time—gentle this time. Just enough to remind you he’s there. That he’s with you.

Because if you trust him to take you apart, then he’ll make sure you don’t fall all the way through.

There’s nothing in the world like this. Like you, bent over and begging, taking everything he gives without flinching. Trusting him, even when he’s rough. Even when he’s mean.

Especially then.

You’re the only thing that makes him feel like maybe he’s not a monster.

But right now? He still fucks you like one.

But if you fall, he’ll catch you—teeth, hands, bruises and all.

[fandoms-in-law]

Lips

Summary: Steve asks Robin her opinion after getting distracted by his reflection at work. It leads to her being the supportive best friend over his crush.

Author's note: My brain is tired, the prompt I had for today was a bunch of words from loveheart sweets. It happened is all I can say.

~

“Do I have hot lips?” Steve asked one quiet afternoon at Family Video. He’d been looking at his reflection in the window instead of hoping to see customers coming in.

Robin gave him an odd look, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Are my lips hot?” He repeated, “Attractive? Sexy? The alluring pout boys go crazy for?”

She shook her head, “Lips aren’t hot. Smiles are cute and actions made with a mouth can be hot but I refuse to believe hot lips exist unless burnt or covered with like chilli or hot sauce to make them feel like they’re burning.”

“So my lips aren’t hot?” He pouted at her.

Robin nodded resolutely, “Nobody’s are.”

Steve crossed his arms, huffing a little, “I think Eddie’s are when he’s quiet.”

She threw up her arms, moving to tidy the shelves. “I give in. Go and ask him!”

“You’re letting me leave work early?” He smirked at her, turning around.

“No! You’re on till until the end of the day.” Robin clicked towards it, laughing at his groan.

~

Robin had noticed the comment earlier on, but decided not to question it while they were in the shop. It wasn’t a good place to bring up the subject when too many people could overhear. Now they were at his home she had to ask, “So Eddie’s lips? You’ve noticed them before?”

“Haven’t you? They’re hot and gorgeous.” Steve agreed. “Why is that interesting?”

“Pretty sure we could ask everyone we know and they wouldn’t agree.” She stated, “Also because it’s nice to hear you talking about one person you like rather than vague attributes. It’s got to be my turn to tease you over a crush now.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Really? Can’t I just be happy to have something that stands half a chance of happening for a while?”

“You entirely can be happy, but best friend rights say I can tease.” She agreed cheerfully, “Cause that’s what real love is.”

Playfully frustrated, he nodded, “Fine.”

~

“Maybe I should try playing DnD with them,” Steve muttered, waving the party out of Family Video. “Casually spend more time with Eddie that way.”

Robin scoffed, “Casually play DnD? You? Dream on Steve, none of them would be casual about that, and only Henderson knows you’ve even tried playing. It’d be major drama and all of Eddie’s friends would be suspicious of it.”

“What do you suggest then? I can’t hope for another town disaster to casually fold clothes next to my crush like you and Vickie.” He complained.

She thought for a moment, before gesturing, “Use that empty house of yours to advantage. Let them play there. You heard the brats say they’re having trouble arranging it since the school isn’t letting any clubs run while rebuilding work is happening.”

“Now who’s dreaming? If my parents get wind of that then I’ll be looking for somewhere new to live, not just a place to play a game.”

“And you’ll live with me. Besides, that’d require them actually coming back to the town they barely set foot in even before the ‘natural disasters’.” Robin pointed out easily.

~

The Corroded Coffin boys looked at Robin in confusion when she opened the door, getting shoved aside a moment later by Dustin who rolled his eyes when seeing the cause for the delay. “Come on, I want to get set up.” He called vanishing into Steve’s house.

“What’re you doing here, Buckley?” Gareth asked cautiously, taking slow steps as he entered the house, looking around as if expecting someone to attack him.

“It’s my besties home so I’m gonna be here whoever he’s got hanging out.” She simply explained. “Steve’ll be your waitress today. You know the rest of your roles. Anyone need a tour?”

The men shared a glance before following her through a little less cautiously.

~

They had a sleepover after the DnD had ended and everyone had gone home, collapsing together onto Steve’s bed, Robin curling into his side.

“Are you still teasing me about the new crush or can I ask you to be kind now?” Steve spoke quietly into the dark.

Robin had insisted they could talk better without lights on and it had actually become truth from the amount of times they’d done it. She didn’t try to turn and look at him, just made a quiet affirming noise.

He took a deep breath, “Do you think I actually could ask Eddie out? That he might agree if I do it right?”

“I think that if you just be you, he’ll be leaping at any chance to date you offer.” She answered slowly. “He’s always been pretty open about being queer and definitely flirts with you. Don’t change though. That’s one of the things people back off from when you do it. Just be you.”

“I can try that. What’d I do without you?” He sounded thoughtful, and horribly sentimental.

Robin nudged him gently, “Same answer, you’d just be you, lonely, stressed, babysitter you.”

“Hey!” He tickled her side in a short burst in retaliation for the tease. “I’m glad I’m not lonely when I’m just me with you.”

“Me too.”

[the-impala-is-my-home]

Promtps 10-12 for Wilmon Day, please!

Hii, so sorry for the delay on this, but thank you for your prompt! Hope you like it!! :) originally written for @youngroyals-events' "Wilmon day" The prompts were:

Who falls asleep first? Who wakes up first? Who watches the other sleep?

-------

It's one of these evenings that has Simon stay up for longer than usual- he's been feeling sleepy for at least an hour and every now and then he catches himself looking up from his screen to send longing glances towards the bedroom door. After a glance at the time he sighs- it's late enough that even Wille has asked him whether he'd mind if Wille were to head to bed already and he has to write at least another 1000 words before he can hand this in. When he goes to take a sip from his tea, he finds it has already gone cold. He resigns himself to another two hours of work, trying to ignore the impulse to just crawl into bed with Wille already.

Later, his teeth freshly brushed and his eyes squinting against the bedside light, he smiles at Wille's sleeping figure, curled around an empty space reserved for Simon. He climbs onto the bed as carefully as he can to not disturb him and smiles when Wille reaches for him half-asleep anyway. Simon breathes in Wille's scent and finally feels his body relax into the warmth surrounding him.

---

The last memories of his dream slip away silently, leaving only vague feelings behind. Simon scrunches his nose, trying to orientate himself in the momentary confusion of waking up. Before he can convince himself to open his eyes and at least check the time on his phone before hopefully getting to fall back asleep, he feels them- hesitant, careful touches, the pads of warm fingertips ghosting against his skin, following the slope of his back, the edge of his jaw, the rise of his cheekbones. The corners of his mouth twitch and he feels Wille's hand still in response.

"I woke you up." Wille is talking quietly, his voice still a little rough from sleep. "Sorry."

"Hmmm," Simon says in response, trying his best to sound as disgruntled as he can but hiding a smile by burrying his face in his arm. "Were you watching me sleep again?" He finally opens his eyes a little, blinking at the way the sunlight caresses the outlines of Wille's shoulders from behind - not the middle of the night, then.

"No." Wille grins. "Maybe a little."

"Total stalker vibes, I'm telling you."

He ignores Wille's pout and grabs his phone from the bedside table. 07:13. Still early enough to go back to sleep for a bit. Wille hasn't left for a morning run yet, either, so perhaps he can convince him to stay in bed for a while longer, to let their limbs tangle until they almost become one, until they’re ready to face the day together.

“Well I guess you can watch me sleep some more, because there’s no way I’m getting up already.” He scoots back over to Wille, laying himself across his chest with closed eyes and trapping him with his weight, resulting in a quiet “oof” from Wille. Across his back, Wille’s hands resume their exploration, raising goosebumps in their wake. Simon hums contentedly, leaning into the touch. He opens his eyes again, props his head up on his arm, laid flat over Wille’s chest.

“Or,” he says, as Wille’s fingers reach his lower back, “I’m sure we could find some other way to keep ourselves busy until it’s an acceptable time to get up.”

[goldensunset]

there's so much that could come from that scenario like what if the protag is in danger! augh how could you;;;;;;;

the guillllltttttttt like after already feeling bad about everything in bw and thinking if you just leave. if you just remove yourself from the situation it’ll all be fine right? you can be independent bc you’re really alone and have always been right? only for someone who genuinely considers you a friend to chase you down and leave everything they love behind. they belong in unova they have friends and family they’re a hero but not you. but they went after you. now imagine they got hurt or worse while on their travels abroad or otherwise never came home. all because of you. all because you couldn’t be bothered to stay and fully face the consequences of your actions and do the mature thing which is resolve your interpersonal issues with people who care about you instead of handwaving them away by saying no one in that category exists and choosing to isolate yourself instead. what if the one person who really believes in you is gone forever and it was your fault but you never thought any of this would happen. aurhhhg

[witchinatree]

making a list of my favorite quote/ones that stuck with me from each season 1 episode because i feel like it

(i'm starting this after episode 4 but it will be a WHILE before i post it)

episode 1: "bones are a lie peddled by Big Milk" - alice

i love this one because it's a great introduction to alice i think. also it radiates spiral so i hope we get avatar alice not dead alice (isnt there a podcast called alice isnt dead?)

episode 2: "If I wanted to clear the canvas, I would have used turpentine." - statement

this one was just fucking powerful and caught me so off guard like 😶

episode 3: "What would I do without her?" - statement

the norris statement <3 it feels like martin asking what he would do without jon which makes mag200 a lot sadder and i love them

episode 4: "Perhaps you shall prove a stronger will than I, and will yet find it within yourself to destroy this hungry thing of wood and cat-gut." - statement

augustus sighting #1 and we immediately get jonah magnus expressing that it may be possible for gwen bouchard unknown family member to overcome the eye's hunger spooky violin

episode 5: "Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed." - statement

i feel like this one is pretty reflective of how the seasons gonna go? like if you explain the events of tma (mag200 specifically) no one's gonna believe you, it must be seen to be believed!! and also seen!! like the eye!!!

episode 6: "Not sca- This isn’t some poxy blood test, some little pinprick, this is hundreds, thousands of razor sharp points pushing into your flesh." - needles

i love needles so much and i thought this was really funny because it was like "you dont find me scary!! what the fuck!!!" just kind of toddler michael energy

episode 7: "It’s not like we’re wrestling with tape recorders and manila folders." - celia

STOP IT. celia you can't say that you just cannot!!!!!! you Know™ too much maam i cant with you

episode 8: "Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Gerry!"

RAGHHHHH OH MY GOD GERRY!!!! i love him so much and idk how to handle him being alive in the tmagp universe!! gertrude too but idk we got so much of her in tma and not nearly enough of gerry

episode 9: "And honestly, it’s kind of compelling by this point." - sam

they got him 😔😔 the horrors got sam 😔😔 also i found this to be an interesting contrast to jon's heavy resistance in season 1 like he was being compelled but he wasn't going to let anyone know that vs sam "its kinda compelling to trauma dump on this paperwork :]" how is he somehow even more victim material

episode 10: "Gosh you’re sexy, here’s a twenty for your trouble.” - alice

does this count as a quote if shes also quoting what she thinks sam should say? idk anyway i love her i would say that to her if given the chance and it was very silly. i will not be addressing bonzo i am scared.

episode 11: "...Thank you, Alice" - gwen

dyhard dyhard dyhard dyhard dyhard. okay also, the way she CRUMBLED at the idea of anyone doing anything nice for her please someone give her a hug and let it be ME. this series is tossing me back and forth between sam & alice (what is their ship name) and dyhard but this put me back to dyhard

episode 12: "You know it's rude to have absolutely no game?" - alice

she's so fucking funny i need her to be okay so badly!!!! i don't think even tim made me laugh as much as she makes me chuckle and this one really got me. it's hard to write such a comedic character in a podcast since you only have the voice but they really nailed it i adore her

episode 13: "Is it my fault?" - gwen

each of these episodes just reveal a little bit more about how loving and soft gwen is and idk i love her so unbelievably much so seeing that she felt guilt about the bonzo stuff just made her so much more real :(

episode 14: "Christ, they’re in the walls…" - statement

theyre in the walls!!! theyre in the goddamn walls!!!!! anyway that got me because i realized the hole before the statement said it. made more sad than scared tbh

episode 15: "Babies are cool!" - alice this entire interaction between her and sam & celia was so awkward, she is so obvious and i love her anyway

episode 16: "It’s not like I was holding doors open for Mr Bonzo or anything." - gwen my wife is so so so stupid but i adore her AND this gives room for character development. i wish she did not do that though. i love when characters are flawed and have depth but i struggled to get past THIS flaw of hers

episode 17: "Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same, though, is it?" - celia shes talking TO JON IN THE COMPUTER. SHE KNOWS. i lost my damn mind i love her i love her. get the gay people out of the puter please queen

episode 18: "Why would I need to talk to you? Your work is satisfactory. Unless you have a work-related issue I could assist you with?" - lena solidified my opinion that lena is the best boss to ever have, i adore her and i would want to work for her if she wasn't the boss of Creepy Establishment #1

episode 19: "You’re going to throw it in the fishtank, aren’t you?" - alice colin's behavior is like really worrying BUT i'm glad he's back. i was not convinced he was still alive

episode 20: "I suppose it’s too late for remorse, isn’t it? And why should I be sorry? This is what I deserve!" - ink5oul/statement they reminded me of jon a lot, like especially his season 3/4 transformation when he doesn't quite know everything but he knows he isn't who he was in season 1 anymore, i hope we see more of their life and they can be helped :(

episode 21: [Tape Recorder Bites Ink5oul] - audio description i know it's not technically a quote but this is just so fucking funny. why does it have teeth. what does this mean for the lore. holy shit.

episode 22: "Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood" - celia. knawing at the walls of my enclosure i am so not okay. i'm not okay. wtf. wtf. wtf. they're real. wtf.

episode 23: "I had a favorite mug. It said “love you, bitch” and had a picture of a drunk dog on it." - alice. okay i just love this entire interaction because gwen got to open up a little bit and my dyhard heart is so full

episode 24: "I am told that children like me, and I’ve always held the opinion that the world would be a better place if everyone just thought more." - basira. once again this whole interaction was so fun but like idk i loved hearing basira somewhat happy and in a safe place :] my wife <3

episode 25: " I am trying to help, to save us from this goddamned fucking nightmare machine!" - colin. MAN I REALLY WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!!! I WAS SO CONFIDENT YOU WEREN'T GONNA DIE!!!! it's over

episode 26: "I was worrying for a moment that you were Magnussing." - alice. MAGNUSSING BEING CANON MADE ME SAY IT EVEN MORE I'VE SAID IT LIKE TWICE ALREADY

episode 27: "You didn’t tell me the room was labelled, “Archivist.”" - celia. oooooh somebody's got TRAUMAAAAA LMAO

episode 28: "So you’re telling me you know nothing about an OIAR external contract being found with the bodies of two tattooed thugs who met rather grisly ends?" - TREVOR HERBERT???? anyway. ink5oul mention!!!!! i hope they stop killing people it's really rude

episode 29: "Alice, er… we’ve got to talk. It’s important." - teddy. i knew it was over for him but i didn't think it was gonna be THIS bad??? bye babe i guess??? 😭

episode 30: how do i even pick. the whole fucking episode. i can't. i am in a state of shock. i need to lay down for 30 years.

[velvetjune]

the chapter songs in Alan Wake 2,, flawless

[theguardianace]

can we talk about emurui and how they think they’re selfish for having dreams

[bibleofficial]

where is my fat husband

[void-tiger]

Ekko, Mel, and Vi literally did no wrong ever, and that’s why they were some of the very few to survive.

[carmineskiesandspidereyes]

Dude I need more excuses to make stupid slideshows that shit was fun as hell

[raeofgayshine]

I wish I could go back and tell younger me that I would in fact find that place one day full of people that I adore deeply and who I know love me in return. Who make me feel wanted and cared for and appreciated in a way I never thought would be possible. And none of it required hiding, or forcing myself to be a person I’m not. And I still have that space even though I’m aroace.

For the first time ever, I see a future where I’m not alone. And I wish I could go back and tell my younger self it would happen. It’s possible to not be constantly lonely.