#and like is their breaks between the sad or is it sad all the way

[oceantornadoo]

butcher!simon riley x bartender f!reader, a lil dark/dubcon smut

the one where simon never joins up, staying a butcher’s apprentice as he watches the people from his school grow up and leave. classmates gone, his father fucked off to somewhere, his mother and brother needing taking care of. work, eat, sleep, and of course, fuck.

everyone needs some stress relief. he’s running the shop now, the blood of animals practically burnt into his skin. got his own apprentice, a scrawny kid who can barely lift a knife, reminding him too much of tommy. that thought is how he ends up in a new pub on a different side of town and finds, of all things, you.

the bartender in a shitty hole in the wall. cursing at motorbikers and throwing out men who get to touchy, snaking their hands up your arm when you give them drinks. there’s a similar glint in your eye, callous and hardened but determined, having to make something of yourself to protect the ones you love. he sits at the corner table and he waits. like all kindred spirits, you find each other eventually.

he gets you off on your ten minute smoke break.

your chest smothered against the alley wall, jeans and panties ripped down in one go as his thick fingers find their way around. “ya let every man tha’ walks into yer bar do this?” simon grunts into your ear, his hand forceful on your jaw. you smirk, as much as you can with two fingers plunging in and out of your seeping hole. “only the ones that look sad enough. i like pity fucks.” for that comment, he stops his movement, thumb finding that tight little wrong hole.

“say no.” he presses in, barely, and you’re already scrambling out of his grip, wondering what the hell you got yourself into when you mentioned you were going for a smoke. “fuck you.” he grins, canines glinting under streetlights. “tha’s wha’ i’m tryin’ to do, sweet’art.” you arch your spine, trying to tempt him back to paying attention to your clit. “i’ve been working too hard all night to not come from this, simon. get back to work.” you spit out his name like there’s dirt in your mouth. he pulls out his fingers, ignoring your whine, and flips you around, bare ass against the wall.

“suck.” you do, obediently, bobbing your head up and down like you would his cock. your mouth opens with a pop as he peels his fingers out and right back into your pretty cunt. this time, his thumb finds your clit, small circles that are your undoing. your forehead falls to his shoulder, uncharacteristically intimate between two strangers, and you both watch his fingers move as you get closer and closer to the edge. he pinches your clit roughly and that’s the end of it, pleasure bursting through your veins as you come, mouth open against his clothed collarbone. “fuck.”

he yanks the waistband of your pants up and you nearly combust at the rough drag of your underwear against your sensitive cunt. he chuckles low when you jump, earning a glare as you step out of his grip. “i don’t have time to return the favor,” you warn, already two minutes over your allotted break. he shrugs like he has no problem with it. “got nowhere else to be, bird.”

he sits on that corner bench until the bar closes at 2am. he sits some more when you do a quick mop, not offering to help or lift a finger. by the time you’re done counting the till, it’s nearly 3 in the morning. your feet ache, there’s sweat everywhere, and the vodka cran someone spilled down your spine is still sticky. you don’t have the heart to tell him this when he offers to drive you home, content to murmur quiet street directions from the passenger seat.

simon shadows you as you unlock your apartment door, only kicking off his boots when you glare at him. he’s there when you take off your makeup in the bathroom and doesn’t move when you pointedly say you’re taking a shower. “leave the curtain open.” he replies. you huff as you wait for the water to warm up. “and who’s cleaning the water that’ll spill out?” he shrugs, and in anticipation of the steam, pulls off the black sweatshirt he’s wearing. his torso is a culmination of pale skin and healed scars and cigarette burns, tucked under a worn wife beater. too tired to argue, you strip and wash mechanically, leaving the curtain open. simon just watches, and although you can see the tent in his pants, doesn’t even touch his cock.

that changes when you get in bed. he strips down to his boxers and doesn’t let you explore, turning off the lamp before you can catalogue more. moonlight still glints through the blinds you need to fix, giving you a front show to how he gets to his knees in bed. you’re suddenly alert, afraid of the creature you dragged home.

simon doesn’t want to fuck you like this, so he tugs at the ratty shirt you’re wearing until he can see the pretty tits he saw in the shower. it quick, pulling down his boxers and tugging his cock dry until he spurts white stripes on your nipples, like a claiming. he strips off his wife beater and half-heartedly wipes you down before tugging the shirt back down. simon ignores your mouth, hanging half open, in favor of maneuvering you on top of his chest, your face in his neck.

“simon, i-“

“sleep, bird. gotta be up early ‘nough to fuck ya an’ get to work.”

you close your mouth and he feels you grind your jaw against his shoulder. simon squeezes your ass, almost hard enough to hurt, before leaving his hand there. a warning.

“sleep.”

after that, you’re never able to shake him off.

-

my masterlist here

[nyoomfruits]

wrote a little carcar drabble with the tsgc for the prompt 'a helping b wash up (whether it be their hair, body, some blood off their hands, etc). enjoy!

Everything hurts. Oscar should’ve seen this coming, really. You don’t really go flying into the barriers at the speed he did without getting at least some bruises. At least there were no broken bones, or internal bleeding. Actually, back in the hospital, because they made him go to the fucking hospital, he’d felt fine, really. Little beat up, yeah, but fine.

But now, now that he’s alone, back in his hotel room spread out on the large queen sized bed, the adrenaline starts wearing off and the pain starts seeping in.

He should get up and shower, he knows. He still finished most of the race, and while he’s long changed out of his race suit he’s still gross and sticky underneath his McLaren polo. But the bed is soft, so soft, and getting up means moving and moving means more pain and maybe he’d just. He’d just rather not, right now.

Which is obviously exactly when there’s knock on his door. It’s not Mark, because Mark left an hour ago after making Oscar promise he’d try to get a good night’s sleep. He saw Lando in the paddock already, big sad eyes and worried hands skimming over his body, but Lando is Lando so Oscar knows he believed him when he said he was fine and just needed to sleep it off.

It’s not his family, because his family is all the way on the other side of the world. His mum had called, earlier, worry etched into her voice. He tried to reassure her, but he’s never been good at that. She’s always been too good at reading him. But no matter how good she is, she’s not magic, so even she can’t condense a 16 hour plane ride into merely two hours.

Which leaves. No one. Which means Oscar is not really planning on getting up to answer. Except the knocking gets louder. More persistent.

Oscar sighs. Takes a deep breath. Hauls himself off the bed and shuffles his way over to the door. His ribs are the worst, where the siding slammed into them on impact. His arms are pretty bruised too, and his legs. He takes a deep breath, and swings the door open. “What,” he asks, hoping to deter whoever has decided to bother him right now.

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He breaks Oscar’s name up, like always. Os-kar. “You are okay?” He sounds breathy, like maybe he ran here. Which is stupid. Because Carlos is not. They’re not.

“I’m not up for sex, if that’s what you’re asking,” Oscar bites, like he always does when Carlos does something that catches him off guard.

Carlos deflates a little, like Oscar answered the question without answering the question. “I am not here for sex,” he says, and that’s even more baffling because. Because that’s all they’ve been doing, really. That’s. That’s what the thing is. They shop u to each other’s hotel rooms, they fuck, they leave. They don’t do whatever Carlos is doing right now.

“Okay,” Oscar says. “Bye.” He goes to close the door, but Carlos’s foot wedges in between. Oscar briefly considers repeatedly slamming the door close anyway until Carlos gives up and removes his foot, but that would give Carlos the satisfaction of knowing he actually managed to rile Oscar up.

“I need to make sure you are okay,” Carlos says.

Oscar pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s tired and hurting and gross, and he so does not want to deal with any of this. “I am fine. Didn’t they tell you I was fine? Just some bruising. It’ll heal. Could really use a shower, but that’s it.”

Carlos eyes scan over him, like he can look through Oscar’s drawstring jeans and McLaren polo and actually assess the bruising underneath. “Why didn’t you?” Carlos asks.

“What,” Oscar asks. His head is starting to hurt too. He wonders if he has any body parts left that don’t hurt, at this point.

“Shower,” Carlos says. “You left the track an hour ago.”

“Are you stalking me or what,” Oscar bites, but when Carlos just stares at him, relents with a sigh. “I’m. It hurts, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I crashed into the barrier at an ungodly speed and now I hurt. Happy?”

Carlos looks the opposite of happy, mouth pitching down and brows knitting together. “Where?” He asks. The eyes are back, scanning, scanning, scanning. It unsettles Oscar unlike anything else.

“Everywhere,” he says, because he’s tired, and he hopes that if maybe he just admits Carlos will start the process of leaving him alone.

It’s the wrong thing to say. Carlos moves his foot forward and, catching Oscar by surprise, manages to push his way into the hotel room. “Show me.”

“What? I’m not… Jesus, Carlos, I just told you I’m not having sex with you right now,” Oscar says. They’re in his hotel room and yet Oscar feels like he’s playing an away game with how confusing Carlos is being right now.

“Oscar,” Os-kar “Show me.”

Stupid stubborn bull headed Carlos and his stupid inability to just let things go. Oscar sighs, and pulls off his polo, gently, but still making himself wince, before throwing it on the floor. “There, happy?” He says, testily, frowning at Carlos.

Carlos sucks in a breath through his teeth, steps forward. Mutters something like “Ay, cariño” that Oscar doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to understand right now, and then tentatively reaches out to brush at Oscar’s side, where the bruising is the worse. He’s being so gentle about it, so soft, and Oscar shivers, even though the hotel room they’re in isn’t cold at all. “Alright, let’s get you in the shower,” Carlos says, and it’s so clear he isn’t taking no for an answer, and it’s so clear he worries, and Oscar is so incredibly tired.

So he makes his way to the bathroom, lets Carlos help him take off his pants and his socks and his underwear before getting into the shower. Carlos has undressed too, and Oscar can’t help but look when he’s not looking. He’s seen Carlos naked a million times at this point, but it never tires.

The shower is big enough for the both of them, and Oscar breathes a sigh of relief when the hot spray hits his back, washes of the grim and hurt and pain. He hisses when it hits a particularly nasty scab, but overall the water is lovely, soothing, helped by Carlos gently soaping him in, running his big hands over Oscar’s shoulders, his chest, his arms.

“I saw,” Carlos says, breaking the silence that has fallen over them. He’s turned Oscar around, is gently rubbing soap onto his back, so Oscar can’t see the expressions on his face. “I was three cars behind you and I saw-“ Carlos breaks off then, and Oscar feels him pressing his forehead against Oscar’s neck. “I cannot do this anymore, this thing that we have.” He continues, and suddenly Oscar is glad they’re not facing each other, because he is pretty sure the look on his face is embarrassing.

“Oh,” he says, and he tries to sound unbothered, but he is so so so tired, and Carlos showed up and took care of him and he was lulling himself into a false sense of security, a false sense of something, and now the rug is being pulled right from under him. “Okay.”

“I want more, Oscar. I want all of it. And I know you can’t give that to me and that is okay, but I can no longer just be something casual with you when I have all these feelings.”

Oscar feels like the rugs been shoved right back under him again so hard it’s making him trip up over it. “Feelings?” He says. He turns around now, because he needs to see. He needs to know if this is real if this is. If Carlos means what he is saying.

Carlos is looking at him, big sincere brown eyes. “I am in love with you, Oscar,” he says. Os-kar, it’s the most beautiful thing Oscar’s ever heard. “And I cannot be with you if you do not love me back.”

Carlos goes to step away then, which is so incredibly stupidly absurd, that Oscar doesn’t even blame himself for yelling “Wait!” a little too loudly and reaching out to grab Carlos’s wrist. “You don’t get to… What is wrong with you? You get in a shower with a man and confess your love to him and then you leave?”

“Don’t you want me to?” Carlos asks, tilting his head to the side, and god. He’s so infuriating. If he was not so tired, not so beaten down, Oscar would kiss him right now. Tell him he was in love with him too. But that all feels to big and too heavy right now so all he says is, “Stay. Please stay.” And hope Carlos understands.

And Carlos does, because Carlos has always been able to understand Oscar in ways Oscar doesn’t even understand himself. So he steps back under the shower, soaps Oscar’s hair, rinses it off. Wraps him in a giant towel as they get out, bundles him into bed.

Carlos’s arms are warm and soft around him as he settles into the sheets. Me too, he thinks. Me too, I love you too. And hopes Carlos understands.

Carlos’s arms squeezes around him, very gently. Oscar falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[radio-fmm]

Zoro fluffy Drabble I found in my notes

“It’s so unreal to want something so badly and actually get to have it”

The words slip out of your mouth with ease, yet silently, almost meekly and Zoro just stares in absolute awe and confusion

Why would you ever want him?

His callouses crashing into your soft skin, eyes that reflected the night sky fall on him as a shiver runs up and down his broad back. He wonders, but an answer never crosses his mind or lips, he keeps staring wondering if you’ll have it

A shy smile breaks into your face and it has Zoro gasping for hair, the warmth that so naturally exudes from you a total opposite from the coldness of his blades, his so equally cold gaze melting under yours

At last, your eyes advert when you get no answer from the swordsman and he gravitates back onto earth

A silence stretched and for the first time between both of you, it itches

“I never imagined not ever having you”

Another smile breaks, this one a little different form the other one, this one’s teasing

“Of course someone as brooding as you wouldn’t think of it that way”- you laugh and Zoro swears he just leapt around the deck “but I’ve spend a good amount of my life yearning too much”

Zoro finds himself spacing out while staring at you once again, because it’s just so unnamable, for you to long from afar when his heart layes between your fingers. But then again, he just unceremoniously gave it for you to hold without permission.

The sea breeze blows his insecurity, armor falling from around his rough exterior gifting you his bare self. Zoro was the kind of guy to experience a thousand storms raining down inside of his head but never show it, his serious and determined gaze never faltering, so it scares you a little when you see it soften; but not like you usually see it softened around you, this one’s different. You see a vulnerability glazed with something you cannot quite name, a lazy smile curving on his chapped lips and a long dreamy sigh escaping form his nose that envelopes you.

“What a dumb thing to do”

You swat his chest, but there’s no bite behind your action, only shyness. It was like looking directly into the sun, Zoro’s vulnerability was shaking, that’s why he dressed it behind this kind of comments to lighten the feeling, even if it was all consuming.

What he communicated to you was ( What a dumb thing to do, when you had me at your mercy all along).

So your cheeks turn red and you hide behind your giggles and his bulky arm, hanging tight in fear this would all be a dream an he’ll disappear leaving you to wake up alone in your old sad life before becoming a pirate.

“Yeah, specially when I’ve always been yours too”

Masterlist

[meadowfics]

funerals

husband!father!kang dae ho x f!wife!mother!reader

this is apart of my 'kang family' series

warnings: death, angst, childhood trauma (again I know sorry), new permanent character dropped.

the heat felt different back in your home country. not in a bad way, it was just unfamiliar. it is thick and humid in a way that clung to your skin, whispering reminders of a childhood you barely remembered.

you stood outside the chapel, your black dress clinging slightly to your waist as a soft breeze drifted past. it smelled like grass, like wildflowers growing in the cracks of the sidewalk. beside you, dae-ho stood quietly, his hand resting against the small of your back, his other hand holding your carry-on bag from the rented car.

you never imagined you would ever be back here. not like this.

just two days ago, you were home, your real home now back in south korea, laughing with seo-ah as she painted tigger stripes on dae-ho’s face with a makeup brush, rocking byeol to sleep after another late-night feeding, sipping warm barley tea while folding laundry. it was supposed to be a normal week.

suddenly, the call came.

a voice from your past. a distant cousin who thought you had vanished years ago, who believed the rumors that you, like your mother and older sister, were gone. however, she found you on facebook. when she did, she sent you a message which told you something you hadn’t prepared for.

your father was dead.

you hadn’t seen him since you were six years old. an entire lifetime ago. a time when your mother grabbed your wrist and pulled you through airport security with nothing but two small suitcases and a promise you didn’t understand.  

you never saw him again.

you didn’t cry. you didn’t scream. you just stared at the text message.  

when you told dae-ho, his reaction was immediate.  

“we’ll go,” he said, without hesitation. your husband noticed the urgency in your eyes.

“the girls?”  

“jia can watch them. she’d be happy to.”  

now here you were in your home country, standing on foreign soil that still knew your name.  

you felt strange. not empty, but not full either. just… somewhere in between.

dae-ho glanced at you, squeezing your waist gently, “you okay?”

you nodded, unsure if it was a lie or not, “i think so.”

he looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable but warm, “you don’t have to be. not here.”

you breathed in slowly.  

“i don’t remember him,” you admitted, “not really. just flashes. just his laugh, the smell of his coffee. how he’d lift me up after work even if he looked so tired.”

dae-ho didn’t speak. he only pulled you in closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. the silence was respectful. grounding.

“i’m not sad,” you said again, softly, “i think i’m mourning the idea of him more than the real person. the dad i wish i could’ve known. i always wondered if he looked for me. if he missed me.”

dae-ho pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’m sure he did.”

you didn’t say anything else. all you did was stare at the doors ahead. the thing is that mourning someone you barely knew wasn’t like the grief you felt when you lost others. it was quieter. more complicated. a bruise instead of a break.  

yet, it still ached because this was the man you should have had. this was the goodbye you never expected since you already said goodbye before.

the air inside the funeral service hall was thick. it is not just with incense and whispers, but with something heavier. memory. grief. time.

you stood beside daeho in silence, staring at the rows of mourners in disbelief. you expected no more than a dozen people, maybe less. it stunned you to see how many had come. there is maybe a hundred people. there were old men in suits, women in traditional dress, young adults clinging to handkerchiefs, their eyes red. the space was warm with presence with history.

it felt foreign to you.

your mother’s funeral had been a formality. three coworkers of hers. no eulogies. no warmth. your sister’s... slightly more. a few classmates, polite nods. no one stayed long. it all felt empty.

this?

this felt... full and heavy with love. as if the man in that open casket had touched the lives of everyone in this room.

you couldn’t speak. you didn’t know how to make sense of this man who was yours, and yet — wasn’t. a father you hadn’t seen since you were six. a man your mother demonized until the very end.

your heart pounded as you slowly approached the casket, unsure why you even wanted to see him. you left daeho by the seats as you approached the casket alone… maybe you wanted closure. maybe proof. the whispers of the crowd faded into white noise.

there he was.

your breath caught. you stopped at the foot of the casket.

your father.

of course his face had changed, but not unrecognizably. he is older, softer. silver streaks in his hair, the creases around his eyes deeper, carved by years you hadn’t witnessed but his jaw, his lips… it was yours. that familiar bone structure that your mother used to curse when she looked at you.

he looked peaceful now like he was somewhere better. maybe he had already been there in the years you missed.

you just stood there, absorbing him. the version of him who might have changed. grown. healed.

suddenly, a quiet presence moved close beside you.

you glanced over, expecting a stranger, maybe someone paying their respects.

the young man standing beside you was not a stranger, not quite. the boy’s eyes were rimmed with red, a stubborn tear threatening to fall as he stared down at the same face.

he didn’t look at you. not yet.

he just murmured, mostly to himself, “he was the strongest man i’ve ever known.”

your eyes flicked to him. he couldn’t have been older than twenty years old. he is tall, with a kind face and a grief that hung around him like a second skin.

“according to my mom, he used to drink a lot,” the boy added quietly, “he told me that he lost everything before i was born but then he got clean and built his life again. everything you see here... he did it all over from scratch.”

your throat tightened. something raw twisted in your chest.

“i wish i got to know him,” you whispered.

the next words would break you. the boy will say it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“yeah… my dad was amazing.”

your breath stopped and everything in your body went still.

you turned to him slowly, heart thudding like thunder in your ears.

“…dad?”

he looked at you now, confused, blinking.

“yes. this was my dad,” he said again, softer this time like he could see the tremble in your lip. he didn’t understand the weight of the word he’d just used.

you didn’t speak for a few seconds.

you just looked at him, this boy with your father’s eyes, with something soft and unsteady building in your chest. your hands trembled at your sides. a hundred emotions collided at once: grief, disbelief, awe, envy. something unspoken cracked open.

voice breaking, you said:

“he was my dad too.”

the boy’s breath caught.

those eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted like he was about to speak, but didn’t. he stared at you for a long moment, and then something clicked in his eyes. recognition. realization. memory, maybe or a whisper of a photo he had once seen.

“…are you y/n?” he asked.

you nodded, barely able to form the word.

he swallowed hard, “he told me he had two daughters. my older half-sisters but... he thought you were gone.”

you exhaled shakily, a tear finally slipping down your cheek.

“i’m still here,” you said, “mi... she passed away thirteen years ago but i’m here.”

he looked away for a second, emotions storming in his face. he nodded slowly.

“i’m ezra,” he said, “i… always wanted to meet you.”

you tried to speak, but another wave of emotion rose up in your throat, choking you. you reached for something to steady yourself…but it was daeho’s hand that found yours first.

he had come up behind you quietly, watching. his eyes darted between you and ezra with silent concern.

“is everything alright?” daeho asked gently.

you looked at him, your hand still in ezra’s.

“daeho,” you said, voice thick, “this is ezra. my… my um… brother.”

something soft shifted in daeho’s face. surprise, but not shock. warmth. quiet understanding. he gave ezra a small nod, then looked at you with nothing but love.

ezra gave a small smile.

“do you both want to talk outside?” he asked.

you nodded.

together, the three of you stepped out into the light. your heart was full of everything you never thought you’d get… and all the things you’d still have to work through.

the sun hung low over the distant skyline, its golden light filtering through the trees that framed the edges of the cemetery. you sat on the bench quietly beside ezra and daeho, the late afternoon breeze brushing softly against your skin, warm enough to feel like some strange comfort in all of this. 

your hands were resting on your lap, fingers locked together tightly…until daeho slid his hand over yours, gently loosening them.

ezra leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he exhaled through his nose. 

"dad told me that he met my mom maybe five years after you left," he started, his voice steadier than it had been inside. 

"they met at this hardware shop she was working at. he was still rebuilding his life back then, but he was... really different already."

you blinked slowly, processing.

"he was clean. sober. had been for over a year when they met. he was trying to build this business from scratch. something with woodworking and furniture, he was really good at it. said it helped him stay grounded."

you stayed quiet, listening, feeling every word land with more and more weight.

you remembered your mom talking about dad working with renovations and stuff.

"i was born a year after they got married," ezra continued. "it was always just us three. he... he was amazing, y/n. like, breakfast every morning, dad jokes, helping me with math even though he sucked at it," he chuckled softly, and the sound pierced through your heart like light through a crack, "he was there. all the time. even when he got sick. he still found a way to show up for me.”

you swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but the tears were there…just barely held back.

this wasn’t the man your mother screamed about when you were a kid. this wasn’t the monster she told you to hate. this wasn’t the man she said didn’t love you. this man? this version? this father? he could have been yours. if she hadn’t taken you away. if she hadn’t made you believe you weren’t wanted.

"y/n..." daeho murmured beside you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he noticed your silence shift. your eyes shimmered with that soft, hollow ache, and he already knew.

you had missed out on so much.

"i'm sorry," ezra said softly, eyes catching the slight tremble in your lip, "i... didn’t mean to make you upset. i just thought you should know. he talked about you. both of you. he thought you were gone. not... dead, just unreachable. i don’t even think he knew about mi’s death."

you took a breath, voice finally escaping, "i wish i could’ve known him like that."

he was still an alcoholic when he was still with your mother. ezra didn’t speak, only nodded gently in understanding.

daeho shifted slightly beside you, offering his presence like he always did…quiet and strong. he could see the similarities now. ezra’s eyes held the same peace yours did when you were content. the boy’s jawline had the same curve. 

when he smiled, even for that brief moment, it was the same small, lopsided smile you gave when something made your heart flutter.

"how’s life in korea?" ezra asked, trying to ease the mood, to distract from the grief welling in both of your chests.

you looked up, clearing your throat gently, "it wasn’t easy. my mom forced us there when i was six. it was a new language, new everything. i didn’t know anyone, and... she wasn’t the best."

daeho looked over at you softly. he knew what that meant. what you didn’t say. what you’d lived through.

"but i made it," you continued, your voice lifting just slightly, "i survived. i live in a quiet town just twenty minutes outside of seoul now. it’s calm. beautiful, actually. i’ve got a little home with a garden, and my husband..." you glanced at daeho, smiling faintly, "he makes it all feel like home. i have two daughters now. seo-ah, she’s four and a half and byeol, she's just six months."

ezra's face lit up for the first time that day, his eyes softening with wonder. 

"nieces?" he said with a little grin, the first real one.

you nodded, "they’re happy girls. they’re with their aunt right now, daeho’s sister. they’re everything to me."

"what are they like?"

you laughed, "seo-ah’s this fearless ball of sunshine. she loves soccer, climbing trees, getting her clothes dirty. byeol’s still tiny, but she’s calm. observant. i think she’s gonna be the thinker."

ezra beamed, "sounds like they have a really good mom."

you didn’t know what to say to that. your throat tightened, but you smiled softly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. 

"thank you," you whispered.

after a beat, ezra asked quietly, "what... was mi like? i mean, before..."

your heart sank slightly.

you folded your hands again, fingers nervous. “mi was... really creative. she was into everything. music, art, theater. she had this spark when we were kids…always dancing around, talking about dreams. she had a huge laugh. too loud for school plays. but she was... she was so bright.”

you didn’t want to tell ezra the downsides to having your older sister in your life… it just wasn’t the time to do so.

ezra smiled, listening.

"she struggled," you added, "she had a lot of pain that went unnoticed. untreated. our mom... didn’t make it easy and when mi passed, it felt like the world just got quieter."

he nodded, absorbing the weight of it.

"she didn’t die from sickness like dad," you added softly, "she took her own life and my mom... she died the year after. bone cancer. it was a lot."

"i’m sorry," ezra said again, his voice thick, "i didn’t mean to open old wounds."

"it’s okay," you said, finally reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, "i think... this was meant to happen. us meeting. maybe not in the way i hoped, but still. we just met but i am happy to have met you, ezra"

daeho looked over at you, his eyes holding nothing but admiration. this woman beside him… who had survived so much, who loved so hard despite everything, who now sat beside her newest discovery aka her younger brother like a tether to a family she thought she had lost. you are the bravest person he knew.

ezra nodded, then smiled, “you know, when you first walked in... i thought i recognized you. you have his eyes. i guess i do too.”

you turned to him, really looked at him.

"yeah. you do."

you stayed there a while longer. the sky slowly turning orange as the sun dipped lower, the breeze gentle. there were so many holes in the past you’d never be able to fill but this, this moment, felt like stitching something back together. a start. a piece of healing you never knew you needed.

back inside the funeral home, the walls seemed quieter now, as if the weight of grief had settled into the air and hushed every whisper into something sacred. the scent of incense still lingered, and the soft murmur of conversations blended with the slow piano music humming in the background. 

you walked back through the door, daeho by your side, as ezra gently motioned for someone to come over.

from what you could guess, it was her. ezra’s mother. your father’s wife.

the woman’s hazel eyes widened softly as she approached, her footsteps slow, almost reverent. she looked at you with something between disbelief and recognition, as if the ghost of someone long ago had stepped into her present day.

“oh my goodness, y/n!” she pulled you into a hug. you hugged her back as if you’ve known about her for a very long time except for an hour ago.

“you look just like him,” she whispered, hand over her heart, her voice trembling with emotion, “so beautiful.”

your heart clenched at those words. your mother had never looked at you like this woman just did…not with awe, not with kindness. your voice came out quieter than intended. 

“it’s... nice to meet you.”

she nodded slowly, studying you, “i always saw you in the old photos. you and your sister. your father… he never stopped loving you both. he always said he hoped one day he’d find a way to see you again. we even tried searching once when you would've been thirteen years old but there wasn’t much to go off of.”

you nodded, your throat tightening.

suddenly came that question, inevitable and soft, “is your sister here?”

you froze for a second, but ezra quietly murmured, “mom…”

you placed a hand on his arm and gently shook your head.

“no,” you said, “she’s not here. she passed away thirteen years ago.”

the woman’s face fell. she sighed, her voice a breath, “i’m so sorry. she was my stepdaughter too, even if we never met. i still hoped…”

you nodded in silence, your heart heavy. the woman’s eyes lifted behind you, and her expression warmed as she noticed daeho.

“and who is this?” she asked gently.

you turned slightly. 

“my husband,” you said softly, almost proudly, “this is daeho, kang dae-ho.”

she smiled as she extended her hand to him. 

“her father would’ve loved you,” she told him, with such certainty it made your eyes sting, “he really would’ve. i don’t know you that well but he wanted her to have someone strong, someone kind. you have that face.”

“thank you,” daeho said, bowing slightly as he shook her hand, “that means a lot.”

ezra walked away to linger near the casket again, and something pulled you back toward it with him, to that space where your father lay peaceful, untouched by pain. you moved slowly, your heels silent against the polished floor. 

the tears you had been holding since your arrival threatened now to spill over, the closer you got.

you stood beside your half-brother, eyes scanning your father’s face. he really was gone. and suddenly, it wasn’t just a man lying in a casket…it was all the years you never got. all the birthdays missed, the comfort that could’ve been yours, the warmth of a father you never got to meet again, not as an adult. not as a mother. not as someone who had healed so much, only to discover another piece missing.

your tears fell. slow at first, then steady. your hand rose to your mouth, as if to keep them inside, but it was no use.

ezra looked over, unsure, until you turned toward him and opened your arms. he didn’t hesitate. he stepped into your embrace, arms tight around you, like two people trying to hold each other together when the world had shifted beneath their feet.

you held him like you always wanted to be held as a child…safe. close. known. you hoped ezra had that. to say you were happy for your father’s growth would be an understatement. he had done what so few men did… he had changed to become better and to become loved.

goodness, how you wished you had seen it. you wished you heard him laugh again. you wished you could’ve watched him rebuild, even from the sidelines.

you wished seo-ah and byeol could’ve met him and love him as their grandpa.

“i missed him,” you whispered into ezra’s shoulder, “i missed him before i even knew the version of him you got to love.”

“he would’ve been so proud of you,” ezra said back, just as quiet, “he always said... he hoped you were okay and that he hoped... wherever you were, you had peace.”

your knees nearly gave out at that, but daeho was there, behind you now, sliding his arm around your waist, steadying you.

you had survived a hell he never knew. your father had lived a redemption you never got to see.

yet somehow, through different roads, you had both made it to love. you, with your husband and your babies. your dad, with a family and a second chance.

you knew things happened for a reason. standing there now, holding onto a newfound brother, a grieving son, and the ghost of a father who’d once lost you... you finally understood how much you’d missed him and how, maybe, you still had time to reclaim what pieces you could. not from him, but from the family that remained, from ezra. 

you stood near the casket a few more moments after the embrace with ezra, your fingers lightly brushing along the edge of the polished wood as you tried to memorize the lines of your father’s face. 

even in death, he held a presence that felt far away but deeply familiar, like a song you knew from childhood but could no longer remember the lyrics to.

unfortunately, your mind wandered.

yes, back to those games. back to those cold dorms. you remember the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. the stifling scent of sweat, fear, bleach, and blood thick in the air. it was the third night after red light, green light, and everyone was still shaken. 

daeho had collapsed that night, trembling with the kind of fear that words couldn’t reach. you’d held him against your chest, your hand over his back, trying to ground him through the waves of his panic. your man’s tears had soaked into your shirt, and your free hand had brushed the strands of his hair back as he finally fell asleep, trembling less with each second.

you hadn’t been able to sleep.

instead, you’d looked up at the massive glowing piggy bank suspended above the dorms. so much money hanging above your heads, as if it were meant to make the blood and death seem worth it. 

your eyes locked onto the glass, staring at the way the gold shimmered, and suddenly, the thought struck you so violently that it nearly stole your breath.

your father… was my father alive?

it had been so long since you thought of him in any real way. your mother had painted him as the devil. during those games that night… standing there, alone, surrounded by strangers who would kill for cash… you’d remembered a moment. you remembered a a warm voice and a hand helping you into your shoes as a child. a man who didn’t seem cruel at all. you cried that night. you hadn’t cried for him since you were a little girl. you did then, alone, while daeho slept beside you in the dark. 

you cried wondering if he was dead. if he’d ever searched for you. if he even remembered your name. now, here you were looking into the eyes of a young man he raised, a son who’d gotten everything you wanted. he got love, and comfort. everything you thought you’d never find.

ezra was scrolling through his phone now, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled up his contacts. he handed it to you, and you added your number quietly.

“here,” you whispered, your voice thick, “just in case.”

he smiled faintly, then looked at daeho, “can i add you too?”

“of course,” daeho said, already reaching for his own phone, “you’re family.”

ezra swallowed at those words. he blinked quickly like he was holding back emotion, nodding as he accepted it.

“thank you,” he said softly.

“do you go to university?” you asked, sitting beside him on the bench again, “i don’t want to bother you at any time, especially with the time zone difference between here and korea if you have a busy schedule..”

he laughed gently, “i do. final term coming up but… i want to see you again. if that’s okay.”

“it’s more than okay,” you said, “maybe… when you get time off… you can come to korea. meet your nieces and we can talk more.”

ezra’s eyes lit up, “really?”

you nodded, tears forming again, “really.”

for the first time since meeting him, you saw something in his eyes that mirrored your own. the quiet grief of what was lost. also, the fragile hope of what could still be found. you and ezra had grown up in two completely different universes, both orbiting around the same man. somehow, now, the threads were weaving together.

you reached out and gently squeezed his hand. “maybe we didn’t get what we needed from our childhoods,” you whispered, “you said you’ve always wanted to meet your only siblings. i’m sorry about mi but now i can be here whenever you need anything.”

ezra smiled through watery eyes, “i’d like that.”

you didn’t know what the future would bring. maybe just a few messages now and then… maybe shared holidays one day… maybe a whole new branch of love for your daughters. 

however, this new discovery might’ve healed something inside of you that you’ve thought was impossible to ever heal.

kang family series linked here

[rjunhuang]

how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else.

featuring: harry potter, ron weasley, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic.

note: can you believe i wrote this in 2023? it was an unfinished draft featuring more characters. i might make a part two w them included. also i do NOT like draco lol so i'm a little biased when i write him. honestly send in some requests on what other prompts you'd like to see w them

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

harry!  he'd highkey be so salty about it. at first, he's just completely off put and hurt by the thought of you going out with someone else. HE THOUGHT Y'ALL HAD SOMETHING GOING ON </3

his literal initial reaction would be, "oh.. montague, huh.. hm uh.." before walking away from the conversation all together.

if you're a dumbass, you'd assumed he's just incredibly awkward when it came to hearing about other people's relationships, but supportive nonetheless. oh, you're wrong though. he walked off because he had no idea whether to be angry at himself for not pulling any sooner or at you for choosing someone slimey as graham montague to swap spit with or maybe just montague himself.

the longer this fling lasted, the more comfortable harry would be about expressing his distaste on the whole relationship. he'd given you lectures about how you shouldn't like those type of slytherins. you'd probably lost track on how many times he had indirectly called montague ugly. 

he would visibly show attitude whenever montague interrupted a conversation between you two. eye rolled and scowled like crazy, but he doesn't want to step the line as he's just seen as a friend by you —

"hey, mate, can't you see i'm trying to have a chat with her?"

he'd have dreams about hexing the shit out of graham though. maybe he'd slyly done it in the middle of class when no one's looking too.

if you accuse harry of doing so, he'd simply just shrug, "don't look at me." but would add a silent, "he had it coming though." 

it's like a silent warfare between him and montague soon enough. both of them would be throwing attitude around when you're lowkey oblivious to it all. harry won, obviously, and this would be the breaking point - montague had enough of dealing with harry so he'd just ended things with you. of course, harry's going to comfort you if you do get sad about it —

"i just don't know why he'd do this out of nowhere." you sulk under the hold of harry, both sitting on an empty hallway's staircase. harry has his arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulder. "yeah, wonder why.."

he'd had a massive ego boost knowing he was the reason graham montague won't go near you anymore. literally would have to hide his smirk the entire time when comforting you. but he wouldn't be harry potter if he wasn't ending it with a snarky comment. he's not sure whether you'd slap or kiss him for it, but he surely wouldn't mind it being both.

once you and harry finally ended up together, the thought of montague wouldn't even cross his mind. he wouldn't care less about some random troll-looking fool. probably didn't even notice the dirty looks from montague because his eyes are on you. you had his undivided attention.

ron!  he'd thought it's some sick, twisted joke. you'd told him the news that you're hooking up with cormac and just watched ron's face morph from being mortified to plain old disgusted. regarding situations like these, i think ron is a bit emotionally immature so he definitely wouldn't react well.

it had been saturday morning and almost everyone fifth year and above were recovering from a wild friday night common room party. that was the first night you hooked up with mclaggen and this morning, on the way to the great hall, he had pulled you aside to suggest making it a common occurrence — "some fun, no need for any strings attached." were his words. you had brought this up in the table during breakfast when hermione pointed out your flushed expression. the news leaves everyone shocked, but most especially ron. hermione had opened her mouth to begin reasoning with you, "i don't thin—" "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" ron wouldn't even beat around the bush, cutting off hermione. his mouth would be full with scrambled eggs and toast since he had stopped bothering to chew the moment you mentioned the word 'hooked up'. you'd mutter back a petty, "bold coming from the git with his mouth full." obviously hurt by his words.

it only worsened from that point onwards. the beautiful friendship you had with ron would crumble in a matter of time. it's constant fights with you two, ron's almost waiting for a reason to scowl or scoff whenever you're around. good luck even mentioning cormac in front of him, he'd just burst. the jealousy was so undeniably obvious yet you'd be so caught up in the anger of all of it to even realise. had it been someone less athletic than cormac, ron would've jumped him the moment he found out. 

he'd be a petty little bitch but all the dramatics are to hide his insecurity. of course you'd chosen the conventionally attractive hunk over him. he'd be pretty rough on himself because of it; it's pure heartbreak for him. he'd never admit it but he's cried once or twice after storming off from a fight with you. 

the end of your friendship with him would be in a final argument. merlin knows how it started, you never do. but almost a month into your fling with mclaggen, you've grown tired of ron's immaturity. so this time, you ask him.

"why are you even so pressed about this?!" you'd shout to ron. to which he'd counter with, "because he's a dim-witted fool who's only going to hurt you!" the frustration was unbearable as you lick your dry lips, raking a hand through your messy locks. ron is standing opposite to you, chest heaving from the intensity of the situation, yet he shamelessly takes a glance at your lips. "then if you're such an expert at this, tell me who i deserve to be wit—" ron must have a knack for interrupting others because he pulls you into a kiss, frowning as he does so. it's his final desperation for you to just hear him out. and you do, you kiss back and you're hit with the original passion you've always felt for him that these fights had blinded from you.

it's the end of your friendship and the beginning of a romance.

draco!  draco's love language is definitely cliche bullying. without a doubt, he doesn't know how to show affection to anyone at all so you two would definitely be enemies of some sort. i think he'd lowkey be oblivious to the fact that he's straight up mean to you but you've literally had enough of it. you'd had a crush on him since your first year together probably and eventually you caught his eye as well — except for all the wrong reasons. he grew a knack for constantly belittling you in some kind of way even remotely possible to him. though, in his eyes, he always saw it as flirting and you being into all of it. you accepted the attention for what it was and grew to expect his taunts during classes. shamelessly, you did enjoy the fights the two of you shared. however, 'banter' could only last for so long and you eventually grew insecure of the words spat from malfoy. your friends encouraged you to move on and you finally decided to take their word. you supposed you had a type for slytherins, seeing how harper soon enough came into your life. he was a good distraction from malfoy to the point that even the (apparently natural) platinum blond took notice of your distancing. you stopped countering draco's remarks with snarky quips nor did you even bother to spare a glance at him anymore. draco hated the feeling he failed to recognise as heartbreak. he was so caught up in this feeling that he ordered crabbe and goyle to snoop around and find out what changed about your life. it didn't take much investigating to discover the budding romance between you and harper. draco was far more distraught than he thought he'd ever been about the news - but what malfoy's goons failed to communicate was that you and harper were barely anything serious. 

despite that, draco was consumed by emotion. his immediate reaction after his minions left his dorm room was to owl his father with a letter demanding to expel harper from hogwarts. lucius' response, though, was an eerily formal letter telling his pissbaby of a son to never waste his time with such nonsense again. in other words, his father had completely shrugged him off. thus, draco hopped onto the plan b — which was to gang up on harper with his goons. draco liked to claim no one is on his level enough to be his friend, however, he had grown to like harper before this situation arose. they both shared interests in quidditch and shaming others of their blood status. 

soon enough, he had been on harper's case, constantly mocking the other slytherin boy whenever draco found the chance. it was no secret draco had a superiority complex over the fact that harper was the reserve seeker on the slytherin quidditch team whilst draco himself was the main seeker — so this became draco's number one target towards harper.

"your girl couldn't get the real thing so she opted for the knock off instead, yeah?" draco would sneer, adrenaline pumping from the audience that had surrounded him as he insults harper. he tosses a few kicks at the fallen over boy before crabbe and goyle take over with more aggressive ones. he'd snicker at the sight of the dishevelled harper, adding one more comment before walking away, "don't worry, she'll be running back to me soon enough."

fred!  if you think fred weasley's demeanor would even remotely falter at the news of you hooking up with someone else, you are wrong. even the fact that the special guy was viktor fricking krum wouldn't be able to stop the ginger from continuing to shamelessly flirt with you. fred's mindset was the literal definition of 'never back down, never give up'. he was not going to let you go simply because krum was snogging you on the sides. 

it's lunchtime on a wednesday where majority of hogwarts is present in the great hall, along with the selected students of beauxbatons and durmstrang. you were seated next hermione granger at her designated house table, discussing the slight change in the structures of the upcoming exams. so deep in your conversation with the girl, you had somehow failed to notice the presence of the infamous weasley twins with lee jordan right by their side — obviously. fred is the one to interact with you the most whilst the other two gryffindor boys do their own thing. the older twin's hand is pressed down on the table, leaning his whole body weight against it as he hovers over you. you notice a peculiar shadow cast beside you and turn your right, immediately being greeted with a wickedly grinning weasley. you can't help but notice the veins and slight muscle peeking through his rolled up sleeve from his dominant arm being supported by his weight.  hermione, having read the room, turns around, joining a conversation with neville longbottom and ron weasley. "hey, love." fred spoke up, almost purposively being loud enough for others around to take a quick glance. you tense up at the publicly proclaimed nickname, and though you have heard it leave his mouth several times before, this time there is a bulgarian national quidditch player who might just overhear. it doesn't take more than a second for you to spot viktor, who's looking right to your direction, obviously having heard and seen fred. the muscle in krum's tense jaw twitches as he sharply watches the two of you, while on the other hand, fred's gaze on you hasn't budged. in fact, he lifts his left arm up, fixing the position of your head to face him with the grasp on your jaw. "eyes up here, angel." he instructs before going on a tangent about how professor sprout had seperated him and george during class.

to say viktor krum wasn't pleased with fred's public display of affection towards you would be an understatement. apparently in durmstrang, they do things a little differently — such as rounding up your friends and beating up whoever crosses them, rather than the usual duels at hogwarts. so the sight of a bloodied fred entering your dorm had you leaping to your feet to question and aid him. despite the cuts around his face, fred's cocky smile never left his face. clearly he didn't get krum's message, seeing how he took every opportunity to hold your waist as you wiped the cuts clean off his face. krum truly wasn't getting to him. merlin, he seriously enjoyed pissing the guy off.

or so you thought until you caught onto fred's sudden interest in constantly pranking krum and the durmstrang boys. at first you assumed this could be revenge for ganging up on fred, but then you watched the weasley during one of his quidditch practises. beaters already had such an aggressive role — yet in your handful of years knowing fred, you'd never seen him play this aggressive. it was honestly impressive really, how he managed to keep a cool demeanor until he, well, couldn't.

george!  george never could understand what had gotten into you to start hooking up with adrian fucking pucey. seriously, all george could think about was how closely pucey resembled to the troll his younger brother and friends fought during their second year. despite his thoughts, he never uttered a single word out loud. he was far from supportive of the relationship but he did his best to stay respectful — maybe you were in an 'i can fix him' phase. though george had no idea how anyone could remove the definite troll genes from the slytherin. 

so sure, george kept his mouth shut and a respective distance from the whole relationship ... wrong. oh, come on, there's always a twist with the weasley twins. see, whilst publicly he was an angel .. behind closed doors and alone with you was a whole other wizard. the guy knew if he were to harass pucey with his pranks and stand against him, you would only push the ginger away. he didn't even want to risk such a thing. yet, he still wanted to be close enough to remind you of how much he cared. solitary moments with you begun gentle — he didn't want to cross any line, but still needed to have some sort of idea of where exactly that line was. it wasn't out of the ordinary for just the two of you to hang out — you were best friends after all. however, the more days spent with you, the more flirtatious george grew to be around you.

what starts with light touches on your elbow, soon grows into the two of you laying on the common room couch together, your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you as he talks sweet nothings with you. it was the same old george before you met pucey — how can you ever walk away from this? almost having read the room, george's gaze flickers onto your lips, the talk from him slowly dying out despite the fact that he hadn't even completed his sentence yet. your brain grows fuzzy at the sight of george slowly leaning in, your own gaze fixated on his lips. it was unfortunate that adrian had to step into your common room during that tender moment, clearly in search of you. knowing him, he was in need of some snogging right now. the darkening look in his eyes as he spots the two of you clearly highlights his distaste towards the whole scene. he had practically marched over to the couch, grabbing george by the collar as he slams him onto the nearest wall. you have to admit, the height difference of the five foot nine pucey compared to george's six foot three makes the whole interaction look a lot more silly. "fuck you doin' with my girl, weasley?" snarls adrian, his irish accent thick with rage. yet george seems less than phased, his arms raised as a smirk grows onto his face. "if she was your girl, mate, she would have pulled away." george calmly adds, glancing at you behind pucey with the most flirtatious eyes known to wizard kind. you can't help but feel stunned at the look, almost melting. "want to be the judge of this, darling?"

[illumity33]

Beeping Monitors and Broken Bones

Hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here (9-10 y/o) AN: first post! I hope it's not too bad </3 I'm not a native speaker so writing this long was a little hard for me + I'm posting on my laptop so it's harder to navigate tumblr since i'm not used to it

next

The first thing Kunikuzushi felt when he woke up was pain.

The second was anger.

His legs were encased in heavy casts, his entire lower half immobilized by thick bandages and an obnoxiously tight hospital blanket. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nose, and the steady beeping of medical equipment rang in his ears. The bright overhead light burned his eyes, and the room felt uncomfortably cold. He hated it.

He hated all of it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be outside, running, jumping, living. Instead, he was here, stuck in some stupid hospital ward, unable to move, unable to leave. It was unfair.

He scowled and turned his head, only to freeze when he realized he wasn’t alone.

There was another kid in the hospital bed next to his. They looked about his age—maybe a little smaller, their frame fragile and thin beneath their oversized hospital gown. They had a nasal cannula hooked around their ears, the tubing trailing down to an oxygen tank beside the bed. Unlike him, though, they didn’t seem upset about being here. They just sat there, legs swinging idly over the side of the bed, watching him with an expression that was half curious, half amused.

Then they grinned.

“Whoa,” they said, pointing at his cast. “What did you do to break both your legs?”

Kunikuzushi’s glare deepened. “What does it matter?”

The kid shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda impressive.”

He wasn’t sure if they were mocking him or not, but it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He turned away, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, hoping they’d get the message and leave him alone.

They didn’t.

“You don’t look like you wanna be here,” they commented.

“No duh,” he snapped, finally looking at them again. “Why would I? Normal kids don’t belong in hospitals.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He realized his mistake immediately when the kid’s expression shifted—just a little, just enough for him to notice. Their smile dimmed, and something flickered in their eyes. It wasn’t sadness. Not anger, either. Just… understanding.

A quiet sort of acceptance, like they’d heard those words before.

“I guess that makes me not normal, huh?” they said lightly, their voice lacking any real bitterness.

Kunikuzushi’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know why, but their response made him feel worse.

He expected them to be mad. To argue. To tell him how unfair he was being. But instead, they just laid back against their pillow, gazing up at the ceiling like they’d done this a thousand times before.

“…You live here or something?” he muttered after a moment, unable to stop himself from asking.

They let out a small, breathy laugh. “Feels like it. I’ve been here for… a while.”

Something about the way they said that sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine.

“How long?”

They tilted their head, thinking. “Since I was five.”

Kunikuzushi blinked. Five. That was years. He tried to imagine it—spending every single day stuck in this place, never going outside, never running around with other kids, never knowing if you’d ever get to leave.

He couldn’t.

“…That sucks.” The words felt weak, but they were all he could come up with.

The kid didn’t disagree. They just smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, only broken by the quiet beeping of monitors. Kunikuzushi shifted uncomfortably in his bed, trying to ignore the strange, guilty feeling creeping up his throat.

“…I was riding my bike,” he said abruptly.

The kid blinked. “Huh?”

“That’s how I broke my legs,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. “I was trying to drift. Thought I’d be cool.” He scoffed. “Didn’t really work out.”

The kid let out a small giggle. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He rolled his eyes, but the sound of their laughter—real laughter, not the tired, forced kind—made him feel… lighter.

“I didn’t think you were the reckless type,” they teased.

“I’m not,” he huffed. “It was just—” He hesitated, then grumbled, “I don’t know. I just wanted to feel… free, I guess.”

Their expression softened. “I get that.”

He glanced at them. “Yeah?”

They nodded. “Yeah.”

Kunikuzushi didn’t know why, but that made him feel a little better.

Just a little.

—

Days passed. Then weeks.

Despite his best efforts, Kunikuzushi couldn’t shake off the kid next to him. They were always there, watching him with that same amused expression, making conversation even when he clearly wasn’t in the mood. But instead of annoying him, like he expected, it started to become… normal.

Comforting, even.

He learned their name. Their favorite snacks (even though they weren’t allowed to eat a lot of them). The stories they made up in their head to pass the time.

In return, he told them about his home. About the outside world. About all the places he’d go once he got out of this stupid hospital.

And each time, they’d listen with a wistful sort of expression, their fingers lightly gripping the blanket over their lap, like they were trying to hold onto something they knew they could never have.

One night, after the nurses had turned off the lights and the halls had gone quiet, Kunikuzushi lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The rhythmic beeping of machines, the faint murmur of nurses in the distance, the sterile scent of disinfectant—it was all so familiar now, almost normal. He hated that.

His legs still ached, though not as badly as before. He could move them a little now, just enough to remind him that one day, he’d be able to walk out of this place. One day, this hospital would be nothing more than a bad memory.

But this kid—they weren't like him.

He turned his head, watching their in the dim light of the monitors. They were awake, staring at the ceiling just like he was. The glow of the screen cast soft shadows on her face, making them look almost ghostly, like they weren't really there. Like they could disappear at any moment.

The thought unsettled him.

“…You ever gonna get out of here?” he asked quietly.

They blinked, then slowly turned to face him.

For a moment, they didn’t answer. They just looked at him, their expression unreadable. Kunikuzushi almost regretted asking—almost wished he could take the question back.

Then, finally, they smiled.

That same soft, knowing smile. The one that never quite reached their eyes.

He felt his chest tighten.

“Dunno,” they said lightly, like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like they hadn’t already thought about it a thousand times before.

Kunikuzushi clenched his jaw. He hated that answer.

Because it wasn’t really an answer at all.

Because it meant they didn’t know if she’d ever get better.

Because it meant they might not.

His fingers curled into his blanket, frustration bubbling in his chest, but there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“…That’s stupid,” he muttered.

They chuckled softly. “Yeah.”

They didn’t argue. Didn’t try to comfort him.

They just accepted it.

Kunikuzushi turned his head away, glaring at the wall. His throat felt tight, and he didn’t know why.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

[calliecopper]

Yeah, this is very real. While it's important to acknowledge that Ian had his reasons for many of his decisions, many of those decisions DID hurt Mickey. They're not some magical couple that are always confident in having one another no matter what; they're real people who feel real hurt when the other does them wrong, and feel real doubt when faced with challenges in their relationship.

Mickey was terrified of Terry finding out about him being gay, so he lashed out at Ian and told him he was nothing but a warm mouth. Mickey's response is understandable, especially after we see Mickey's fears realized in S3E6, but his words still hurt Ian and pushed him into the arms of Ned. Mickey tried to push Ian away after Terry discovered them because he felt it was the easiest path forward. Again, it is understandable since he just went through extreme trauma, and his worst nightmare actually came true, but Ian still was left crying alone in his room, heartbroken. Mickey felt he didn't have a choice in marrying Svetlana. Again, what really could he have done? Ian still felt hurt enough to feel the need to flee Chicago altogether.

So when Ian is faced with a lifelong illness that he has witnessed first hand, through Monica, ruin lives, he has doubts. He doubts his own self-worth because he has been TOLD that he has no worth. He doubts not necessarily that Mickey loves him right now, but that over time there will be strain, and Mickey will regret being with him.

"I'm bipolar, right? I dont know who I am from one day to the next, how do you know you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Ian, still grappling with his new diagnosis and still feeling those doubts breaks up with Mickey. Understandable, because he's going through extreme mental turmoil at the moment. It still breaks Mickey's heart, after all the work he had put in to make things right. When Mickey is arrested, Ian takes it as a sign to try and move on, and put distance between them for both of their sakes. Fair enough; Ian is still going through a really hard time, and grieving his boyfriend being in prison for 8-12 years without trying to move on would make things even harder. Mickey still feels abandoned. Ian decides to not cross the border with Mickey when they're on the run. Again, a very sound decision; Ian has rebuilt a life for himself that he thought he'd never get back after his diagnosis. Mickey still, yet again, feels abandoned.

So when Ian hesitates on getting married, Mickey sees it as yet another failure. He's tried time and again to make it work; he faced his worst fears in coming out to his dad, broke out of prison to be with Ian, got himself thrown BACK INTO prison to be with Ian, and yet Ian still won't commit. Mickey feels like he isn't enough for Ian anymore, because even after trying his hardest over and over again to be who Ian needed him to be, Mickey always ends up losing him.

"No, you're just saying you don't love me enough now."

They've broken each other's hearts again and again, and it has lasting effects on their relationship. There's festering hurt, sadness, and insecurity. Actions and words that have cut deep. But they still persevere. They were never some destined couple, always meant to find their way back to each other like magnets. They weren't always 100% confident in the other's love for them. They've actively been forced apart and have even pushed each other away, but they always claw their way back to each other, because despite the doubt, they take a leap of faith.

So yeah, not to take over this post, but I feel this is important perspective to keep on their characters and relationship. They're not always confident in themselves or how much the other person cares for them. Their love does not immediately overcome all obstacles; they have to fight both internal and external battles to be together, and that's what's compelling about them.

i find it wild when people don’t realise how insecure mickey is in later seasons about ian loving him (i think this at least decreases after they get married, but it probably still comes up sometimes). mickey literally says:

- ‘did you ever think about me?’ in 7x11 (he was not confident that ian wanted him, he was not sure of himself or ian loving him, he was of the belief that ian hardly gave enough of a shit about him to spare him a thought)

- ‘is this the only reason you proposed to me?’ in season 10 (okay, the quote makes sense in context but it’s the absolutely gut shattering way that noel fisher does it that absolutely kills me, same with the scene at the border)

- ‘no, you’re just saying you don’t love me enough now.’ in season 10 (is this not the most blatant thing in the world?? he’s literally saying that he doesn’t think ian loves him out loud and plainly??)

i’m not blaming ian for this, not entirely at least. sure ian did some shitty things, definitely contributed heavily to those insecurities, but there were reasons for those things and bla bla bla. we know by now that i love ian and im not hating on him.

personally i think mickey’s obviously wrong, that ian does love him, think about him, care about him because obviously. i think its also to do with his abusive childhood, how he never had love so doesn’t know why he would get it now as an adult.

all i’m saying is that people who believe ‘mickey always knew ian loves him’ did not watch the same show i did. even normal people who don’t go through the crazy shit they did question if their partners love each other, so why is it seen as some kind of weird crime for mickey to have thought that ian stopped loving him. there’s nothing wrong with that and i think you would have to be pretty delusional to sit in prison and think the guy that left you twice still likes you.

(again, i think ian did like him, im just saying mickey wouldn’t have known that)

this is in reference to some more shit i saw on tiktok that made me need to rant again

[multiversefanfics]

Together Again

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!SemiEx-Hunter!Reader Warnings: cussing, bit a sadness, anger, mention of violence, breakup, pregnancy Summary: You, Sam, and Dean hunted together, Sam broke things off with you and you decided to give up hunting Past in Italics Word Count: 2,152

You and Sam were in love, well you thought you were in love until one day he decided that it was best the two of you break up. There was no big argument, no cheating, Sam didn’t fall out of love with you, even though that’s what you thought, that just wasn’t it, he thought he was saving you, by breaking up with you, little did he know you were holding on a giant secret.

After a successful hunt the three of you went to a bar near your motel to unwind and celebrate with beers, whiskey and greasy burgers, you didn’t drink, you were the designated driver since Dean said he wanted to get super drunk. You noticed Sam was acting weird, but you chopped it up to him just being tired. You and Dean were laughing and playing darts together when Sam walks up gently grabbing your arm, leaning down to whisper in your ear “Can we talk outside?”

You looked over at Sam and nodded, you patted Dean's back and let him know you and Sam were going outside, he nodded and went to order another beer and flirt with the bartender. You and Sam walked outside moving as far away from the loud crowd but not too far away where Dean could come running out to help if anything went down and vice versa. Sam shifted awkwardly What’s wrong Sammy?” He sighed and looked down at you “I don’t think- In fact, I know we should break up.” You were taken aback; you reached out to touch him, but he moved away “What did I do?”

He shook his head not making eye contact with you, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you he didn’t mean it, but he felt as though this was the best way. “Sam, I asked you a question.” He inhaled deeply finally meeting your eyes “I just don’t feel it anymore.” You bit your bottom lip and nodded “Okay, I’m sorry you don’t feel it anymore.” You handed Sam the keys to Baby, and his fingertips brushed against your palm, shooting a burning sensation deep in your gut. “I’m going to get my stuff and be on my way.”

Sam looked shocked and reached his hand out to stop you “I don’t want you to leave” You chuckled and shook your head “Do you honestly think I can stay here and look at you after this? It hurts, so I’m leaving. Please tell Dean I said bye.” And with that you turned on your heels and walked back to the motel, rubbing your stomach and crying softly.

***

It’s been 6 years since you’ve seen Sam, Dean on the other hand made special trips to see you and your daughter between hunts, yup that’s right I said, daughter. That night Sam broke up with you, you also found out you were pregnant and wanted to tell him when you got back to the motel — well you saw how that went. You gave up hunting although you still kept all the knowledge of hunting; hex bags, demon traps, and of course salt at every door and window in your house. Though it would’ve been better if Sam was around to protect both of you. Another person that popped up from time to time was Castiel, he didn’t like keeping things from Sam but he promised he would keep his mouth shut, and so did Dean

Even though every time Dean came to visit, he took a thousand pictures of your daughter, and you hoped he didn’t show any of them to Sam. Now you live in a cute 3 bedroom house with your daughter, and pitbull, Baby. You didn’t think Dean would speak to you or visit you so you named your dog after his car. You were out getting the mail when you heard a familiar voice from across the street, you turned your head and there he stood in all of his glory, it was Sam. The sun hit him just right and it made you fall in love with him all over again.

Then it hit you, he can’t see you, you bolted into your house shutting and locking the door, and you leaned against the door hearing his voice get closer “Maybe the owner of this house saw something” You hoped Dean would interject and come up with something as to why they can’t knock on your door “Nah, it looks like they got kids and young ones at that they’re probably too busy to notice anything.” Dean bit his lip hoping Sam would buy it and of course, he did, they walked away without a second glance. You let out a sigh of relief then smiled at the soft sound of your daughter’s feet running toward you

“Mommy, can we go to the park?” You didn’t really want to take her out since they were in your neighborhood, but you couldn’t say no to that adorable face “Of course, baby, let’s get you dressed” You stalled as much as you could hoping they’d be long gone before the two of you left, you zipped up your daughter’s light jacket and put a harness on Baby, your daughter skipped a few feet ahead of you and Baby right by her side.

You didn’t use the leash on the walk to the park but once you got there you did since there were other kids and dogs there, Baby wouldn’t do anything because you trained her to protect your daughter and not go after other people or animals unless threatened, you sat down on the bench closest to your daughter and watched her play, Baby right by your leg watching intently.

You crossed one leg over the other and smiled at her when she giggled with the other kids “Excuse me, ma’am do you mind if I ask you a few questions.” You froze in your seat then relaxed when you realized it was Dean, you looked up at him and sighed “What are you doing here?” You looked around for Sam.

He chuckled and sat next to you, petting Baby’s head “Don’t worry, Sam is at the motel. I saw you guys leaving and followed to make sure you were safe” You followed his eyeline back to your daughter and leaned back against the bench “I have to tell him don’t I.” Dean rubbed his chin and shrugged “It’s killing me, keeping it from him, but it’s your call, sweetheart.”

You nodded and looked over at Dean “Bring him over in an hour.” Dean nodded, kissed the top of your head, and walked back to his baby. You let your daughter play for a bit then called her over telling her it was time to go home because Uncle Dean was coming over, she got super excited and rushed you to get off the bench to go home,

The two of you finally got home you took her to get a bath to wash the nasty playground off of her, you put her in her favorite purple flower dress, you exhaled and carried her down the stairs “Why don’t you go play while we wait?” She nodded and took off toward her playroom. You looked up at the time “They should be here any minute.” You decided to go bake Dean a pie.

Dean told Sam he found a lead and they needed to go talk to someone for the case, as they pulled up to your house Sam saw how familiar it looked “You said this person wouldn’t have known anything” Dean sighed and cut off the engine “This isn’t a lead, I need to prepare you before we walk in.” Sam reached for his gun, but Dean put his hand up “No need for that. Listen, you are about to learn some things and see someone you haven’t seen in a long time along with someone you’ve never seen. I need you to be calm about this and not freak out.” Sam just stared at him trying to comprehend what was going on.

Dean put his gun in the glove box and motioned for Sam to do the same thing, Dean got out and Sam followed suit, they walked up to your door and rang the doorbell, they waited a bit and you told them to come in, Sam recognized your angelic voice and immediately his heart started to pound, Dean walked in first your daughter running up to him “Uncle Dean!!” He smiled and scooped her up in his arms spinning her around, you came out of the kitchen wiping your hands on a dish towel, tossing it over your shoulder. “Hi, Sam.” He stood there frozen taking in the scene that just unfolded in front of him. “Long time no see.”

He looked at you, mouth agape, he stuttered a bit then calmed down “What is going on?” Dean looked at you as you stepped forward “Sam, this is your daughter.” He looked over at the little bundle of joy still giggled at Dean who made faces at her. “Wait— She’s my daughter?” You nodded and tucked her curly locks behind her ear, your hand resting on the back of her head “Hey, Babygirl, I know this may be confusing for you, but” You paused for a second taking a deep breath “That’s your daddy.” You pointed at Sam and she got the biggest grin on her face displaying her dimples that she of course got from Sam. She reached for him to pick her up and he gladly did, he studied her face which happened to look just like his “Wow I- What, I don’t know what to say.” She looked up at him playing with the ends of his hair, and then it hit him “Wait, Uncle Dean? You knew?” Dean nodded slowly and went to say something but you cut him off “I asked him not to, just like I asked Cas not to” Sam’s eyes got wide “Cas knew too?!” He tried his best not to yell but it came out a lot deeper than intended “Yes, Cas knew. He protected us all these years, Sam I’m sorry, I didn’t want to distract you, and when you..”

You looked at your daughter “Hey, why don’t you go show Uncle Dean all your new toys” You smiled at your daughter who basically jumped into Dean’s arms he carried you away back into her playroom “When you broke up with me that night, I figured you didn’t want to see me and a kid wouldn’t change that. So, I raised her with the help of Dean, Cas, and.. Bobby.” You looked down at your hands waiting for Sam to freak out or yell, but instead, he pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back “I get it, I’m so sorry, can you forgive me?”

You nodded against his chest, not wanting him to let go “I’m going to give up hunting” You pulled back and shook your head “No don’t do that, Sam hunting is in your blood we’re okay, just visit when Dean does” He scoffed and shook his head “No, I missed out on too much I don’t want to just visit I want to be with you guys… with you.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek "How about a compromise, you keep hunting, but take on fewer jobs? That way you spend most of your time here and not give up what you've been doing all your life."

Sam sighed, he knew you wouldn't let him just give up hunting, it's in his blood "I can do that" He smiled and kissed your forehead "So does this mean you take me back?" You playfully thought for a second, he tilted his head at you, you giggled and nodded "Of course, I take you back Sam." Suddenly you heard your daughter's feet hitting the floor followed by Dean's fake monster sounds

She squealed and ran to Sam "Save me, daddy!" Sam smiled wide and scooped her up running away from Dean. You smiled at the interaction, but also felt guilty for not telling Sam sooner, you are now at peace, you have your family, no more secrets, just straight happiness and bliss. The oven dinged and you called out to Dean "Hey, Dean your pie is done" His head popped up from behind the couch "Pie?" You nodded and walked into the kitchen.

They all followed, and you cut Dean and your daughter a slice watching them having matching messy faces, you leaned against the counter neck to Sam as he admired his daughter "I guess we know what she got from Dean." You giggled and nodded, leaning your head on his arm "I love you so much." He kissed the top of your head lingering there for a moment "I love you more."

A/N: This was a dream I had last night, and I knew it would be a good fic, I hope you guys like it, if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Sam Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @samfreakingwinchester @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Sixty Eight)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Sixty Eight: Cillian startles Y/N with a call in the early hours, but it seems to open the floodgates in a positive way. Despite a chat, Cillian makes it clear that things aren't okay. Though time with Clíodhna seems to settle both Cillian and Y/N's hearts. [Mild angst/Emotional - mentions of premie babies]

@cherrycilly @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @strangeions @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @borntodiemp3

Your phone rings sharply into the silent bedroom a little after three am. You startle awake and your first, terrifying thought is that it's the hospital. Jolting your entire body, you turn over and reach for your phone on the nightstand, answering it without much notice to who the call is from. “Shit, hello?” You say, panicked. 

“It's only me.” Cillian says quietly. “Ah, shit, sorry, I didn't think - did I scare ya?” 

You sigh loudly. “It's okay.” You say, holding the phone to your cheek as you lay back against the pillows. “I hear you had a nice nap.” You say, and immediately condemn yourself for the attitude. “Feeling any better?” 

You hear him sigh, “I feel like a knob.” He scoffs. “But Jesus Christ, Y/N, why did you say that?” He sounds sad, hurt, and you feel worse than before. When he was angry at you, it made you feel justified. Now that he sounded so small, and desperately damaged by your comment, you just felt ashamed. You know you have to sit with that, you know it's owed. “Why? Telling me I can't see her, making her name a fucking…” he sighs, and you're not sure if he's stopped talking because he feels like he might cry, or because he might say something terrible. 

“I said the worst thing I could think of because I wanted it to hurt you. I'm hurting, Cillian, and I wanted to make you hurt, too. I can't and I won't justify it. It's cruel, it's malicious, and every dark thought you have against me is absolutely justified. I'm so sorry.” You say. You take a deep breath, feeling the heaviness of your guilt rest on your chest. “Words don't fix it, but I regretted it the moment I said it. I am so sorry. She's been a Murphy from the moment I knew she was there, she is and always will be a Murphy. I have no right to say what I said, and I am so sorry.” 

You listen to the change in his breathing, and you don't like it. “I told you recently, I can't keep going over this - it's always the same fight at the root, Y/N, and it's fucking exhausting. Have I not proved to you all this time how important you are? Have I not proved to you that you're the one person I want to be with?” He says, and the tone of his voice is painful to hear. He's broken, and you know it's you that has caused that. 

“You have. You do. Every day,” you say, your chin quivering. “Every fucking day.” 

“I wanted to be with you and our daughter today, and you turned me away. I know I came in there with the head on me, and I'm not gonna pretend I'm innocent. I know I fucked you off. But you denied me my own daughter today, and the only fucking way I could shift that fucking feeling was seeing my sons. I needed to be Dad today, and you stopped that.” Cillian speaks so candidly, and it breaks your heart. “And I didn't come here and grass y’up to them. I didn't give the gory fucking details. It's between you and me, as it always will be, and when you realise that that extends to fucking everything, maybe you'll fucking drop the constant lack of trust.” 

“It's not a lack of trust.” You say firmly. “It's not, Cill.” 

“Then what is it, Y/N? Why are you so focused on the thought that I'm about to leave you for a situation that ruined me before?” He asks, and he's so pleading that your throat constricts. 

“It's not about you. It's me. I'm the fucking problem. It's never been you.” You say, trying hard not to sob so hard that you can't speak. “It's me, Cillian. It's my fault, my-my fear, and history…and it's never been you. I expect you to be something that I can't even define, that no human being can really be. You've never done a thing I can't get past, never. It's my head I'm fighting with and I…I let you stand in the firing line too often, and I'm so sorry.” The sound of his slow exhale is disconcerting. You can't determine what he's feeling. “I love you, and our baby girl, and I know I need to fix myself. I want to. Yvonne answered your phone and she was…nice. If she knew the truth, she wouldn't be. I have no right feeling the way I do around her, not when it's me and you who did the wrong thing. I know I have to fix it, change my thoughts and how I react. I will fix it. But I can't do it right now, and I can't do it without you. Please, Cill. Come home - please?” 

“You said it takes a row to get me to talk,” he sighs, “Y/N, why has it taken me being here to get you to be honest about your issues here?* He breathes in noisily. “I'm not getting at ya - I'm so fucking glad you've actually admitted all this. It's just bollocks it's been after all this, and that the two of us have been acting like a pair of school kids when Clíodhna needs us.” 

“I know,” you feel your breath catch in your throat. “I just… Cill, come home?” He sighs into the phone once again. “Or maybe you need more space? If you need more space, it's okay, I understand. I know what I said…” 

“Y/N, would you shut the fuck up for a second.” He says, and there's amusement in his tone as his Cork accent thickens up a little, making the muttered phrase sound sing-songy and questioning. “Of course I'm coming home - I'm not so thick with you I'd be throwing everything away, for fucks sake! We need to talk properly, the two of us, and we need to be together for Clíodhna - she doesn't need us biting the heads off each other, or one of us in there alone feeling like shit over it all. Right?” 

You nod, then remember he can't see you. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You're right.” 

“But promise me something?” He says, and seriousness takes his tone over again. 

“What?” You wet your lips nervously. 

He sighs yet again, “Don't you ever use her against me again. I don't care how mad I make ya, don't you ever do that to me again.” 

Your breath shudders from your chest, “I know… I won't. I'm so sorry.” 

“You didn't take off your ring, did you?” He asks, and for a moment you are sure he sounds worried. 

You smile sadly, staring around in the darkness of the bedroom. Holding the phone closer to your cheek makes it feel like you're pulling him in towards you a little, though you're not sure why, “Of course I didn't.” 

You hear shifting through the phone, and you wonder what he's doing. “It's still early - I'm gonna wait a bit, til the boys get up. I might run Aran into school. But I'll come home then, and we can go to the hospital. Yeah?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah.” You whisper. 

“We go in there to her united, right? And then later today, when we get back home, we talk properly?” He says, he's not unkind but you know by his tone he isn't budging on what he wants and needs to happen. But you agree entirely. 

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head. 

It's quiet for a moment and then he coughs lightly. You don't know if it's a throat clearing, or if he's getting emotional. You wish he was here - you can read his face so easily. “I'll let you go,” he says. “I'll see you in a wee while.” 

“See you soon.” You mumble. 

“I love you,” he says clearly. “Okay?” 

Warm tears well in your eyes quickly. “I love you, too.” 

It's close to ten am when Cillian pushes in through the front door. You hadn't returned to sleep after speaking to him, and instead had spent time in Malachy's room, staring at all the items for Clíodhna, wondering when it would be appropriate to truly make it her space. You'd placed the Moses basket in here, too - seeing it in your bedroom had only made you feel the distance between you and her more deeply. You straighten up from the dishwasher and push the door shut as he walks towards the kitchen. He looks pale, and sad, but he smiles at you softly. You flatten your mouth into a thin line and raise your eyebrows; you want a hug but you don't know if he'll grant it. It makes you want to cry entirely when he draws his hands from his pockets and holds open his arms. “C’mere,” he says, jerking his head to beckon you over. While you don't run to him, it's definitely a speed walk. You bundle yourself in against his chest and inhale deeply as his arms close around your back. That Cillian smell, mingled with cigarettes and fresh air, washes over you and the sound of his beating heart immediately floods into your ear. 

“I'm so sorry, Cill.” You mumble into the fabric of his thick jumper. 

“Ah, I know y’are.” he says, muttering against the hair on the top of your head. “It isn't okay, Y/N, but it will be.” 

Somehow that small line makes you feel better - you know you can't erase what you said or how it made him feel, but knowing that he knows it came from somewhere that is nowhere near the truth inside, and that it is something that you two can work forwards from, allows you to make divisions in your brain. It will get better, and he doesn't hate you entirely though you know he has the right. “You don't like me very much right now, do you?” 

He scoffs against your hair, “Not really,” he admits, “But I love you, and when we have a real conversation later, we can sort it all out. But don't think for a single second that I don't love you, okay? I do, I love you so much.” He squeezes his arms around you, “We've just got a lot of shit to clean up.” 

You don't mind his answer. There have been times in the past when you haven't liked him very much either, but hearing him consistently remind you that it doesn't mean he doesn't love you, that he loves you as much as he does, allows you to think clearly. 

“C’mon,” he taps his hands against your back like he's playing bongos then drops his arms. You take a step back, and look at him nervously. “You have anything you want? We'll head on up with Clíodhna.” You nod your head at his question. “Grand, so. Put on your shoes, we'll go.” 

He's not rude, but he's matter of fact. He's not cruel, but he's a little blunt. But he smiles when you look at him, even if it's only small. You deserve it. But you miss him. 

It isn't okay right now - but it will be.

Chloe greets you with a cheerful smile as you and Cillian walk through the double door into the room within the NICU that Clíodhna is in. You can hear the sounds of machines, and smell a mixture of disinfectant and the formula feeds provided to the babies. Chloe approaches you with an air of comfort and breeziness, without seeming like she's oblivious to the fears of the parents or the seriousness of the support needed by the babies here. She leaves another couple seated beside their larger baby inside of an incubator, and you look at the little one with wonder at just how sick they must be to be born at a healthy weight, and still be in need of such focused care.  

“Howeyis?” She says, ever the cheerful one. 

Cillian places both of his hands against your shoulders as he stands close behind you, and for a moment you think he's being affectionate, but then he sidesteps you and drops his arms. “She been alright overnight?” He asks Chloe. 

“Not a bother on her.” She smiles, “The night Sister said there was another instance of her resisting the breathing support so we're keeping a close eye on that. We don't want to be too premature in drawing back if she still needs the assistance, but it's a great sign of her strength.” 

You watch Cillian's cheek dimple as he smiles a very tiny smile. “Can I get her?” He says, his eyebrows rising high up his forehead, pushing tiny wrinkles beneath his flopping fringe. 

Chloe winks at him comically, “Sure why else are you here if not for the cuddles?” She gives you a gentle smile as Cillian starts to walk towards Clíodhna's little cot, and touches your arm gently. “How are you doing?” You draw your lips to the side and shrug your shoulders. “If there's anything you need, you'll let me know?” She whispers, and you nod slowly. She gives you another small smile, then walks towards Cillian to help with getting Clíodhna positioned with him. 

You stand back and watch as Chloe opens the side of the incubator, dropping the entire panel down, and checks to see if Cillian is seated. She instructs him to take off his jumper but leave his t-shirt on, and just to drag down the neckline. He sits awkwardly, following her instructions, and keeps his eyes on Chloe as she scoops Clíodhna up in both palms. She's skilled, and doesn't get tangled in the wires and tubes once as she turns slowly. She repositions her hands on Clíodhna carefully, then bends over Cillian as she steadily places Clíodhna in against his chest. Once she places her down against his skin, she moves the wires and tubes strategically and then stands back, watching the monitor to ensure the disturbance hasn't caused her any stress. Your eyes flick up and down over Cillian, as his hands immediately cup around the tiny bundle buried under his t-shirt. He closes his eyes and rests his head back, and his hands slide up and down her tiny body slowly. Chloe leaves you alone, and you move closer now that you're alone. You linger by the chair for a moment, just watching Cillian and Clíodhna, feeling so many emotions at once. 

“Sit down.” Cillian says quietly, and opens his eyes. You stare at one another for a moment. “Sit down, Y/N, c’mon.” He takes his right hand away from Clíodhna and holds it out. As you take the seat beside his, he grabs your left hand in his and laces your fingers together. “She keeps moving her fingers,” he says softly. “Just these small movements.” There's a tiny dimple to his cheek as he gives the smallest of smiles. “I love you.” He says, and it's whispered and husky, and slightly strangled. He's emotional, and it makes you emotional too. 

“I love you, too.” you say, and your chin bobs sadly. 

He squeezes your hand again, and turns his head to face you, still resting it back against the high rest of the chair.  “We're alright, yeah? We're gonna be alright. You, and me, and this wee girl. We'll be alright.” 

.

[chaoticallykinkygrem]

Nobleflower??? (please I am desperate for nobleflower NSFW content at this point I have way too many scenarios but theyre getting old—)

Ok so I’m ngl to you. I had to do some research for this ship as I didn’t even know who it was really when you sent it to me 😭 (thank @rablovergirl for having the answers) but after my research I feel I can no give a good smutty and sad micro fic just for you 🙂‍↕️

Nobleflower | NSFW with angst

She can’t keep doing this. She knows she can’t keep doing this. Yet here she is again with Narcissa Black of all people sitting on her face, moaning her name, and grabbing her hair.

“Fuck yes Alice! Just like that baby…” Narcissa moans out her encouragements, softly grinding down on her lovers tongue. Instead of doing the smart thing Alice knows she should do, she pulls Cissa in more and starts fucking her like her life depends on it. Maybe it does though. Alice can feel the heat between her legs, the wetness trailing down her thighs, and can only assume that she will die if she doesn’t taste her lovers cum within the next five minutes. Though she doubts it will take five minutes as she can feel cissa starting to pulse around her and grind down harder.

“Gods I’m- I’m so close! Don’t you dare stop-” Cissa threatens even though they both know she’s all bark. Alice, being the good girl she is, doesn’t stop and keeps going, knowing she’ll get her own relief soon.

Before long, Alice can feel Cissa’s thighs tightening, her cunt clenching tighter, and finally she hears her named being moaned so loud she fears everyone will be able to hear them. This doesn’t make her stop though, no, she keeps tongue fucking Cissa until she’s whining and pulling off from overstimulation.

“Alice stop. I- fuck I need to breathe for a second love” Cissa practically begs, getting off of Alice’s face and instead moving to straddle her hips before collapsing against her chest. Alice can only grin and lick her lips while Cissa slowly kisses her way up her neck.

“Do you want my help baby? Or did you-” She’s stopped mid sentence though, only a breath away from Alice’s ear, as a phone alarm starts going off. Cissa sits up to grab the phone quickly, not wanting to ruin the mood but as she looks down at Alice she knows it was ruined after the first ding.

“Ten already?” Alice says with a sad smile. “I guess that means you have to go right? Can’t be getting home late.”

“Alice I… you know I can’t stay here. I have to go home eventually.” Narcissa says as she gets up and starts looking around for her clothes.

“Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s engaged to someone else?”

Narcissa turns around slowly, trying to hold back tears by glaring at Alice. “That’s not fair Alice. You knew this was always going to happen. We both knew my responsibilities and duties. I warned you. You can’t blame me for what I said would happen happening.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this cissa. I don’t know how much longer I can watch you kiss that man and pretend to love him. I can’t keep going to sleep with you here and waking up to you gone. I just… I’m not that strong.” She’s been holding in these feelings for months now and while now is not the greatest of times, Alice cant find it in herself to censor herself. Instead of watching narcissa get dressed, Alice just stares at the floor, trying to forget the pain and heartache this has already caused her.

“What are you saying then Alice?”

“I’m saying that you need to choose. Either stay with me here or go back to Malfoy and choose him.” Alice didn’t want to know the answer but she couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep breaking her heart every time narcissa left her. She just couldn’t. Instead of hearing an answer all she hears is the door opening and closing. Leaving her alone. Again.

[yuurivoice]

I totally agree on the boo not needing to be the center of the universe. I mean even listener ASMR as a whole kind of comes from the whole fly on the wall concept that then diverts into a fourth wall break! I think it's actually really interesting how lots of people love this kind of stuff (me included) but typical video game or movie fourth wall breaks make them uneasy (Also me...) Maybe it's the thrill, or maybe it's just the difference on how the piece of media portrays the atmosphere!

one thing I would like your opinion on tho, is what you think of like?? mary sue type beat characters?? That's definitely not the right term, and in no way am I implying that's what boo is I just don't know what term would be better to use to explain the type of character im trying to explain lmao 😞 I feel like when every bad thing that happens is centered around the listener, it makes for a boring narrative, but I also think that when nothing at all bad happens to them ever, it kind of turns the character invincible, and like less human? if that makes sense at all 😭🙏 Not so much as major traumatic life events, but like.. listener fumbling and missing an opportunity, or just minor inconveniences that kind of reminds you that oh right they exist. like anyone can trip on a root and eat dirt, and it's equally hilarious! I think that's probably a very delicate balance, and I think you stay on that tightrope pretty well! I was just wondering

Have an amazing day!!

I think there are levels to this answer so I'll work through some layers.

From a creator's POV, a sad (or happy) truth is that your average listener is looking for and expecting a very simple, accessible, straightforward experience. I think this can often lead to unambitious writing, hitting all the high spots and delivering a basic package to the listener. I was certainly guilty of this in many cases, and since becoming more experienced and less strained by my ADHD, I've been able to take more chances and time. But a lot of folks might not have the desire to!

Next layer is, writing for a listener character is hard. Writing it BADLY is hard. Writing it well is a challenge. I'm not even talking about making them a character or having them be interesting, I'm talking about the mechanics of telling a story with an entire character who doesn't speak, but DOES speak. You have to master context clues, master your understanding of the audience (ie can they read my context clues?), and challenge yourself to get creative with how you deliver information. It's really tough!

A hindrance for me was that so much of what I do hinged on a romantic scenario or outcome. I was stuck in the "well how does this end up getting horny" of it all. Which has made me a career, so I'm not complaining, but also I recognize how one note it can make a character like Rook for example. Boo has the advantage of being the bridge between two characters, their influence is a big deal, their choices have significant impact. Rook is solely dealing with Auron, which makes for great smut, a bit of drama, and romance as we have dug more into Auron's character...but Rook hasn't DONE a ton OR had much happen to them. We're getting there, and thankfully there's a core audience that has bought all the way in purely on the basis of the romance hitting right. But we're getting to the fun stuff and soon my philosophy change will also reflect on Rook.

Casper was the first listener that really had a dose of "I need you to do/be something for the plot" and it has worked out really well. It was my first case of knowing they had stuff going on that wasn't readily known or made clear but needed to be hinted at. They had a job, a reason for it, a reason for not being obvious about it, and it impacted the world around them. That was good practice.

As for just stuff happening more, I can't speak for everyone but I can absolutely admit that I put a hard cap on the amount of shit going on in my audios for a long time because editing and sound designing all that mess is so much time and effort. For me, as I struggled to focus and get work done for so long, I couldn't just...add a little shenanigan or two, because it seemed like soooooo much work. It would put me off of doing it all. And then it becomes a cost analysis. Do I potentially waste days of procrastination and misery on 30 seconds of a thing in an audio that no one would miss if it wasn't there? Do I do it when there's a deadline looming as well? When I haven't got an upload for Monday?

...you see how easy the choice to ditch it becomes. I reckon there's probably a lot of that going on as well. Plus! I always want it to sound good, and I didn't trust myself to make shit sound good anyway. I would have felt in many cases I actively made the content worse.

Ultimately, I think people just want a pretty voice to talk at them. But there's vast potential for storytelling and adventure AND pretty voices talking to you! 😂

There is a strong crop of creators who are doing good work and honing their craft. It took me 8 years to get here. I finally hit a level where I feel I'm doing the kind of work that I can truly sit back and say I'm proud of it, that I'm not critical of or have any excuses for. It's challenging, and tricky, and time consuming. Not to mention I wouldn't even be here without tons of help.

I think that ultimately writers have to consider not what makes a listener cool or active or unique, but what makes them impactful and helps you tell the story you want to tell. And sometimes that means listener just needs to be talked pretty to and imagine they're being whisked away on a pirate ship, or snuck away at a ball, or in the middle of a meet cute at a bookstore. Less can absolutely be more. But when you do want more, you have to figure out what listener wants. Why do they want it? How do we convey that to the listener in ways that aren't always just being spoken to and told how to feel?

The rest will follow.

A fun example I've got right now is what I'm up to with Faust's Evalas Origin and the listener there. I actually got to apply a little more of my "oh I guess I CAN put in the effort to show this" philosophy by realizing i could add an entire sequence that was purely a listener interaction without the main character so we wouldn't have a "oh you're telling me what happened" moment and instead the listener gets to experience it from their POV before paths converge.

That's the one benefit of entries that won't require as much art, I can lean more into the audio doing the storytelling instead of the visuals.

Okay. Wow. Big yap. There ya go. 😂

[redbluepurple123]

Cupcake Series: Caleb

He surprised you with cupcakes. The gesture was born out of genuine thoughtfulness, but when you bite into the cupcake and make a mess on your hand, well…

Until his thoughts drifted elsewhere…

Tags: Suggestive, licking, Rafayel and fem!reader drabble, frosting-foreplay??

Note: Wow I feel a bit terrible that I never posted this. I WROTE IT. I HAD IT. I forgor to post it :( ANYWAY. This was a fun series and I am loving fic writing! I have a few things in the works. I’m not sure the best way to take requests, but if peeps have them, I’m more than happy to give them a try!

💜Enjoy!

By the time you’ve each eaten one of the four cupcakes Caleb brought home to you, there is a mess. You’re the primary culprit unfortunately.

Or…fortunately…for Caleb.

Perched on the kitchen island, a mess of frosting covers your hand and…how the hell did it also get on your wrist?

You lick it up and Caleb watches, enraptured at your little display he was thoroughly convinced you weren’t aware you were putting on.

“How did we…” another swipe of your thumb across your pinky “…how the hell did we make such a mess?”

Without much thought, Caleb reaches for a third cupcake and breaks it in his hands.

“Let's split this one,” he suggests, wendging himself ever so slightly between your knees.

“Caleb, I’m already covered in—“

But before your protests get too far, Caleb offers half to your mouth.

You smirk. Delicately you pull it from his fingers and, if you had to guess, he lingered there just a little longer than necessary.

For good measure you swipe your tongue across his thumb to clean it of any last cupcake and—

As if a match was struck in himself, Caleb’s lips are on yours.

It’s sweet it’s sticky and you taste like strawberries thanks to the dessert.

Sadly, he dropped his half to the ground.

Though Caleb was anything but sad as he pushed you down on the kitchen island and climbed up there to meet you, sticky hands and all.

He just needed another taste….

[crumblekitten]

ImGonnaGetYouBack

luke castellan x fem reader

AO3 LINK

warnings: kissing, angst

words: 1.5k

whats on the ratio?: ImGonnaGetYouBack by taylor swift

Luke used to say he would never hurt you, you weren’t sure how true that was anymore.

“I don’t want you—us to keep getting neglected because of our parents. We don’t deserve it.” Luke pleaded, trying to open your eyes in a new light.

He grasped at your hands, moonlight shining on his scar. How simple things were when you snuck into the forest before this.

“The gods are my enemy. You… are still my sweet, naive girlfriend— you don’t get it now…” His words snapped you out of it, what?

Your hand gently touches his cheek as he’s basically on his knees in front of you right now tears start to swell in your eyes and your eyebrows are knit in sadness

He had never seen or heard you like this before…

His hands reached up to your own, cupping them in between his own and softly squeezing them, just as he always did when he hugged you; a comforting and loving gesture.

Luke’s face showed a mix of sadness, guilt, love and confusion. He was torn apart. What had he done?

You both stay like that for a few seconds though it felt more like a few hours and you just look at his eyes, the fireworks that camp sets off to mark the end of the summer are reflected in them and a soft smile crosses your face but your eyes are filled with love and sadness and maybe a little bit of betrayal

Luke could have lived in this moment forever. The feeling of your hands in his, the fireworks going around. He was entranced by the way they glittered your pretty eyes, making them a lot more pretty than usual. Your smile was captivating.

He wanted you so badly to see things his way. To join him, be on his side. Was he really that selfish? Luke didn’t care, as long as he had you by his side, everything would be perfect. “Please…” He whispered.

when he says that your mind flashes to a memory of when you had first met it was before you both had met Thalia or Annabeth you where in a dense forest pine trees around you Luke had a nasty gash on the side of his face from a monster fight and he wouldn’t let you help him with it “please…” when you had said that his eyes had softened and his gard slowly fell down and you started to clean and wrap the would and then your attention snaps back to the current moment and you trace the spot on his face where that mark was, now faded away and tears start to fall from your eyes

His expression changed as you touched his cheek, he knew exactly what you were thinking; the first time you and him had met, that tender moment when you’d stitched him up and he’d allowed you in. Gods… why did he give in so easily?

His hands gripped on your own tightly, pulling you close as he desperately tried not to break down again. That first meeting had changed his life, the first time he’d realised a mortal was worth the risk..

Luke leaned his forehead against yours, eyes shut and taking in the moment. The memories and the fireworks, the way you held him so easily without fear. He would give up anything for this feeling. You. He was a fool for not realising sooner.

He whispered, “I’m sorry…” as if those two words could make everything better again. Luke couldn’t face the fact that he was to blame, for all of this. In more ways than one.

“You know I can’t go with you” your eyes are still open and you take in Luke’s Cologne he smells like pine and musk

“Why? Why not?” His voice had a pleading tone to it, Luke desperately wanted you too. He wanted you to see through this all, see the big picture for what his cause really meant. For him.

Luke could smell the faint scent of strawberry from your hair. Gods, this reminded him of the many years where he’s held you close in the middle of the night, admiring the way you looked when you slept.

The fireworks sounded loud at their peak, echoing across in the camp and even the forest. Luke could hardly keep his focus, everything between them felt distant already— like nothing would ever be the same again. He couldn’t do anything but grip firmly onto your arms, desperate for answers and solutions.

“You know how it is… we’re never a priority for them. They’ll throw us away… just like everyone else. I know you don’t want to hear this but I won’t let it happen to anymore of us…”

“No matter how bad the gods are Kronos will be worse” your voice is gentle and your eyes are still filled with tears

“So you just want us to sit around, being forgotten about and eventually left behind?! Or worse ?” His voice hardened, the sadness and fear seeping into his voice. It stung him to think he couldn’t even convince his own girlfriend of the cause. What was the point of anything then? What was the point… What was the point of it all…

Your hands move to both sides of his jaw and I you whisper “I’ll love you till the end you know that right?”

“Don’t say that..”

He shuddered against your touch, tears threatening to fall again. The way you whispered that felt all too real right now— it felt like farewells and goodbyes to a past he loved too deeply. That memory of the first time you comforted him, the first time he felt he wasn’t alone.

He swallowed, trying to hold it together. What was wrong with him? He was stronger than this..

His hands moved on their own. Slowly wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pulling you into a tight embrace; He let out a breath, a mix of shaky breaths and choked sobs, his face buried in your hair. Gods. Everything hurt right now; the idea of losing you, the words you’d said, and the memories… He couldn’t get enough of you..

“I don't want to let you go..” His voice was muffled, the fireworks seemed far… too far from here

“whether I’m gonna be your wife or going to kill Kronos for this I haven’t decided yet.”

Luke would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. You were still trying to make the best of it, even in the worst situation like this. Gods, he loved how strong you could be..

He didn’t say anything to your comment, just holding closer onto you as if he was trying to memorise this moment. That strawberry scent, your hair, the way you felt like home.. This was what he had to keep himself grounded to.

You softly kiss him

His hands reached up to cup your face as you kissed him. There was a sense of urgency in the way his lips moved against yours. It almost felt like he was starved, like he’d waited all night for you. But in reality it had always been him.

The fireworks lit up the night sky as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you closer. Luke parted his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss..

“I haven’t decided if I’m going with you yet…”

The fireworks lit up the campsite behind you but Luke could only think of you— the way your lips felt against his, the way your breath hitched when he pulled you closer than before.

The son of Hermes slowly broke the kiss, panting, breathless and staring deep into your eyes. It took a lot of restraint for him to stop himself, to not keep kissing the girl he loved. The girl he loved….

And there it was. The weight of everything was brought back to him.

”but whether it’s handcuffed or not I’m leaving here with you” and you smile at him

This time Luke didn’t hold back the tears. He buried his face into your neck as he sobbed, everything spilling out.

Every moment he’d ever spent with you played on a loop, that first interaction at camp and the many times he’s held you close, how he’d fall hopelessly for you and realise how much he’d risk for you..

“I love you. I love you so deeply.. I don’t deserve you—“

The fireworks continued to boom outside and the whole camp was celebrating the end of summer— it was ironic. Luke was crying and holding his girlfriend close to him— as if his world was falling apart when the real world was going off with a bang outside.

Luke’s sobs eventually died down, the fireworks ended as well, and he sat quietly, clinging onto you for the whole night as he couldn’t let go..

As the night wore on, Luke’s grip on you slowly loosened, and he was fast asleep on your shoulder— his arm still loosely around you, not leaving just yet. The night of fireworks and tears had been a lot, and he needed this rest. He was still clinging on, even when asleep.

What would the morning bring, for this relationship that would never be the same again..

You just sit there in the woods and hold him not wanting to wake him up “I’m gonna get you back for this castellan…”

[housefinches]

iwtv fans, spoilers allowed, is this a show i can watch on a good day or is it so sad that it’ll ruin me and i should wait?

i wanna watch it for claudia if that gives you any insight into what my experience will be

[moongothic]

While I do believe it's likely the reason Dragon never contacted Croc after The Divorce was because things didn't go As Intended (/shit just went Bad) (or they kept their distance for security reasons, not wanting to risk being found out etc)

There is that Funny Alternative that the reason Dragon never contacted Crocodile and warned him about their son having become a pirate with a bounty and having entered the Grand Line, was because Dragon just assumed Crocodile would be able to recognize Luffy right away because "they're so similar" and that it'd be "a nice surprise" if they ran into each other

[soo-won]

Nobody is asking Yona to sacrifice herself or stay with the dragons forever. That's not why ppl are upset with her imo. What's disappointing was that when the gods say Kouka would turn into hell, we didn't saw any hesitation in her. She could've argued w them or showed some determination like: "hey, I won't let you play with me or my country no matter how hard you try" something she did while zeno was trying to kill himself. But no she's like oh hell sounds fun as long as I'm with my family. She even hesitated when Hak's life seems at stake. So what does it mean? And there's is a difference between her running away from the gods vs Suwon not depending on the gods. She's ok to enjoy the blessings but when it comes to pay back, she's running away. Yona acted like a selfish brat like she used to be in the castle, which is disappointing if we consider her development in the past

I'm not gonna lie in this case I feel like people are just looking for something to be mad at her. Like, in chapter 257, I was more bothered by Yona not hesitating because the consequences of that decision were 100% assured and known : all the dragons of the past waiting and suffering in vain until the current generation. And the whole time paradox twist was a lot to process and swallow in a few pages, that Yona's reaction felt sudden too. I wanted to see her hesitate then because I was affected as a reader by the twist that it was technically Yona that made the cycle happen? Even if from her POV it was about not erasing the past like damn that's a lot.

But the circumstances are not the same at all here imo. Yona has been in this chalice for like an entire volume. She tried already to negociate with the gods. It didn't work. They went against their words. They hurt the dragons. She tried everything she could here. They're basically bullying her, they keep tormenting her, she's not getting through them at all. Yona is affected and upset when they tell her about the dragons' limbs. She came here to begin with to save them, she made a deal with the gods that made her stuck inside the chalice against her will but supposedly in exchange of the dragons being freed, and now she realizes that even that failed and that they lost body parts. It's devastating. And Yona looks sick of it. From this point, it's clear to me she realized it's useless trying to get anything from them, because she won't. They're only toying with her and her feelings. All she can do is leave with them and defuse. There's NOTHING she can do more from the heavens, she can't ask the gods to save the dragons and even less protect Kouka.

Yona has been having nightmares about natural disasters and wars breaking out since chapter 257, she's already past hesitating about this too. So I don't mind she doesn't hesitate for it here. Yona in chapter 257 was scared of even falling asleep because she was scared of this future where she's all alone and it's hell everywhere. But she can only stop it by facing it and standing against it. It didn't happen yet, she has to keep her eyes open... She already learned this lesson. As we've seen with Yona protecting Hak from Zeno, her nightmares can be prevented, but this won't be if she stays still in heavens. Staying in a peaceful garden and shivering because intervening outside could cause more problems is much more like Yona of the beginning before her development, than Yona leaving to live in Kouka and fight against problems arising there. Yona was told her existence and actions were a pain that could create more problems at different occasions, and her conviction has always been to make her own place in the world anyways. Before she asks for the gods' divine protection, she should face her own fears and try to do something herself...that's how she always worked. She has always refused to rely on the gods alone.

The motif of living outside and in not the most comfortable place but finding purpose in getting through struggles together has been a thing forever that Yona's reaction about life outside being preferable only seems natural to me. I don't know... Her hesitating here would have felt redundant and would have surprised me. Yona has long ago developed the conviction that she finds more purpose in life in the struggles and difficulties because of all the people reaching out their hand to help, than her peaceful and confined, lonely days in the palace. She always found more purpose in helping people on the ground than to take decisions from above. Even in the castle and south kai arcs it was visible how she wanted to go help prisoners herself, and the way she went to rescue Meinyan shows it well too. I don't want her to hesitate for this. She already said she'd rather live in the mud in chapter 263 too. That's the most Yona thing ever imo, it makes me happy personally. It doesn't need to be said she's concerned for others, and she will keep running to their help to do something with her own hands. I don't need her to hesitate because personally I have no conflicted feeling about the situation and I think Yona is 100% right, here. I have no doubt she is intelligent enough at this point to say this too.

You could argue it would have been better if she had a speech like the one she had in chapter 43, and I can't argue about that (it's true it's very good!). I can understand, I just personally don't need it, because the fact chapter 43 exists is enough in itself to me and the present automatically resonates with it and everything before. I can't be mad at Yona not saying word for word "I'm going to save people struggling outside" because I already know that. I personally don't need that reassurance at this point.

The chapter shows her being concerned for Kouka and everyone on Earth when she flies on Ouryuu's back. Yona always planned to return from the chalice for everyone and everything she left behind on Earth. Of course she's concerned. She wants to bring her friends back from the chalice AND help everyone in Kouka. She promised Yun she would come back with everyone, she planned to return to Suwon too and not abandon her duties as Princess. All these things exist inside of her. Anyways, Yona doesn't need to tell the gods to stop toying with her country like she did with Zeno before too, because the ways things are presented, it seems like it's not like the gods cause this on purpose either? It's a consequence of everything going to shit, and it's also Ouryuu who is on her side talking to her before she says she prefers hell than here. So she doesn't reply angrily, she replies with hope. That's why that page is beautiful too, imo. The gods might not see and understand the value in such a world that Hiryuu and Yona are so fond of. But they can't help but love this messy, "hellish" world. Talking angrily to the gods didn't work in ch263/264 either, so I feel like it was also her trying a different approach when she told them she would live in Kouka maybe? Like she doesn't want to let herself be affected and be upset by them and she simply, intransigently voices her intentions to them?

You say you don't want her to sacrifice herself and stay with the gods forever, but also accuse her of "running away" from the gods and call her a selfish brat for her reactions in this chapter, so I really don't understand your point here. How on earth is Yona supposed to not depend on the gods in this situation but by not making a deal with them? Staying in Heavens, contract done to protect Kouka from doom and ending it at that (because she would be stuck there) would be truly the coward move imo. Yeah she's turning back and trying to get out of Heavens but... it's...good to stop moving forward and further if doing so brings you to extreme loneliness and/or death I think...? I think that's the point...Getting desperate, leaving everything behind and sacrificing more and more of your true wants and isolating yourself has been a pattern that never brought anything good to the characters that tried before. She struggles and things didn't happen as expected, many things are still unresolved, but she can only do so much in this situation. She tried. She tried discussing with the gods, asking them to free the dragons, to let her out. It didn't work, it was a blow on her when they forced her under a sea of flowers, when they tried torturing Zeno, and when she learned the dragons got injured. From that, she adapted and tried to leave. That's it.

I think Yona wavering when they threaten to kill Hak and what it means is pretty simple and is no secret. Yona loves and cares about Hak. Hak is someone important, personal and intimate to her, so obviously she's not unaffected. Yona from the very beginning has been trying to get stronger and do all she could to protect Hak again and again. Losing people dear to her is what scares her more than anything, it always has been so, even if it coexists with her caring about the world around her too. And you know, even if Hak is special to her, I honestly think that if the gods had threatened the lives of the dragons and not only their limbs, Yona would have been affected too. She would have also faltered had they threatened the life of people she doesn't know in the same terms. It's just extra cruel to use Hak in particular against her. It shows again the gods atp are only interested in destroying everything that might be connecting Yona to Earth. It's the exact same form of abuse that Chagol used against Meinyan. It's about isolating her. It's also not really the same as claiming people will die without the gods' divine protection that is more like a potential consequence than a term of a contract like it is at the end of the chapter. She can stand against conflicts outside and protect people there, but what can she do against Hak just, being killed by divine intervention if she doesn't return to heavens (supposedly)? They fucking coerce her here. Maybe it's just bluff, and she should not give a fuck about Hak and still leave. After all, what is one person against the world and her freedom! But well, she cares. She never discarded her loved ones and never compromised Hak and her friends' life. She never compromised the life of anyone really (which is different from sparing and refusing to kill anyone). That's who Yona is. Yona doesn't sacrifice and compromise people's lives, That's why she wants to save everyone AND wants to go home. And that's why she's stuck now. Yona wants to live. But she can't sacrifice someone innocent either, especially not someone she loves. It's the perfect dilemma for her. And that she's forced into it is what is heartbreaking. She shouldn't have to choose. That's why she needs help now.

Bringing up payback like this rubs me a bit in the wrong way...This damn idea of paying back is what has been haunting the narrative for so many years i can't conceive repeating it for Yona too. To me it comes from the same mindset that asks for retribution, punishment and karma for every character that upset Yona in some way or should be grateful and kneel to her and Hak that has been so sickening for so long. I don't want anyone to be forced to pay anything back ever. Every character should get all the help and support they need for free at all times imo. I don't think Yona nor the dragons should have to pay such a harsh price either. Because that's what a blessing is. That's what love and kindness are. That's what wishes are. If the gods really cared for Hiryuu, they wouldn't ask her anything in return, they wouldn't torment her, they wouldn't punish the dragons either. It can just...stop. (Because yes this favor shouldn't be at all to begin with) Which is what Yona wants.

Aren't we so tired of all this "contracts" and "punishment" and "paying back" bullshit by now? I so am. It's exactly what has been ruining the lives of the characters forever and now (and my mental health as a reader lol). She's paying back right now by being in this situation already. And that's not a good thing at all. It's very good narratively though because yeah, they want her to pay back! They make this about contract when she was asking a favor! She's paying the price for her decision in ch257, for ever using the dragons, for entering the chalice as Hiryuu's reincarnation...But it's nothing but sad. There doesn't need to be this payback. That's what the story is exploring. Looking for the dragons to survive (whom she never forced, even if yes they were bound by their contract thing) and protect Hak is not a crime, not erasing the past to save her friends isn't so evil that she deserves to sacrifice herself. Making it end is enough. It may be selfish that yeah she enjoyed the good parts of it until it bothered her but honestly I think it's okay lol. As long as it ends. As long as no one has to pay back anything for doing their best to survive and struggling to protect something. Like Meinyan doesn't need to apologize or to pay back anyone for all she did and was done for her, just like Suwon doesn't need to be even and be punished, like Shinah doesn't need to executed for attacking Suwon, like Zeno doesn't need to be punished for betraying Yona and the ddhhb, etc... Because it's better to look at the bigger picture and at people's circumstances you know...That's how I interpret this arc, at least.

Yona doesn't pay back by sacrificing things, she "pays back" by giving back out of gratitude. That's precisely what she does by doing all she can to save the dragons right now. The dragon warriors gave her so much without ever asking anything back, they saved her from danger and they saved her from despair, she's so grateful and loves them so deeply she wants to bring them happiness too. But Yona can't give the Gods what they want without sacrificing important things to her, and not when they're the way they are now. So she can only leave.

Of course Yona/Hiryuu alone getting this treatment from the gods was always unfair and it shouldn't be at all, especially not at the cost of so many dragons suffering for so long. But well, she did. And when learning how this "favor" was hurting the people around her, she was affected, grieved it in ch253/254, and then she opposed it and tried to stop it in the present. (Also she's been concerned by the dragons' use of their powers for a very long time even if she doesn't go deeper) But the gods don't care. You can blame her for not questioning things more before, I'm critical of this too, I still conflicted about chapter 257 as well, plus everything irt the crimson illness etc but like, she says it, she doesn't want their powers if that's the price. She only wants the human them. She doesn't need the dragons' powers and she doesn't need the gods' protection. When she throws away Hiryuu's sword they give her, it's her rejecting that again. She doesn't want that special power and favor, that's not what she's asking. She wants agency and power, but not at the price of the agency and free will of others. She wants everyone to have normal lives where they can decide things for themselves, to live with their whole free will. That's her development in this arc. I like that she finally faces these things.

Maybe it's just a question of preference, and you might be affected by Yona's reactions in a way I can't relate. But personally I like the chapter this way and I like Yona in it. I don't think she's a selfish brat (god. it's...such a thing to call her honestly it irks me sorry, despite all criticisms I have of her character.) I don't think she doesn't care about Kouka and its people at all. Ive seen people say that too but...Even if yes Yona is still a 16 years old girl with struggles and feelings and still some immaturity which is important to take into account, I don't think she's as childish and inconsiderate as people make her either. People often seem to say her reactions and decisions are emotional and with no reason but I think they're emotional AND with reason, at least here. Yona doesn't say this about Kouka struck by disasters being preferable than Heavens from emotions alone (because yes, she just wants to go home and she genuinely loves the people in Kouka), but also from experience and conviction. They don't cancel each other out. It doesn't make her a hypocrite to have personal interests in it too.