#aside from the throat and the sniffles I feel okay

[koyagifs]

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲

pairing: ot8 x f!reader au: idol | friends to ??? genre: angst with no comfort word count: 2k synopsis: they all agreed to show up to your birthday party. so why are you sitting in your living room, with tears streaming down your face? warning(s):

You stared at the unlit candles, the cake you picked up because no one thought to offer you one sitting untouched. The food you had carefully prepared now sat cold, abandoned. Your phone remained silent, not a single call or message to wish you a happy birthday.

You had gotten all dolled up, thinking maybe, just maybe, this year you'd finally get to celebrate with your best friends. They were usually away, touring the world on your birthday, but this time, they were home.

They had promised you when they found out they'd be home, their excitement matching yours. You had been so hopeful, beaming with happiness as they made promises to bring cake and Wooyoung's cooking, making your birthday feel special.

Instead, you sat on the couch, tears streaming down your face. With trembling hands, you grabbed the lighter and lit the candles, the small flames flickering in the dim room. Moving slowly, you sank to the floor, pulling the cake closer to you. Sniffling, you closed your eyes and leaned forward.

Taking a deep breath, you blew out the candles, your eyes still shut tight. As the smoke curled upward, a choked sob escaped your lips, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

" happy birthday to me..." you mumbled.

Just as you finished putting away the food, a knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your shirt, you opened it — only to be met with a familiar face. Yeosang stood there, a small, guilty smile pulling at his lips.

“Sangie? What are you doing here? It’s late,” you asked softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Ahh, did everyone else already leave? I’m sorry I’m so late — I was pretty much asleep the whole time,” Yeosang rambled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he set a small, wrapped gift down on the table.

You forced a small, tight smile, your eyes dropping to the gift before drifting back up to him. “Oh… that’s okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed thickly, the sting in your throat returning. “No one… no one showed up.”

Yeosang froze. His hand, still halfway to his side, seemed to falter in the air before he slowly lowered it. His eyes searched yours, wide and confused, as if he hadn’t heard you right. "Wait... what?"

You bit your lip, blinking rapidly to push back the tears threatening to fall again. "Yeah," you breathed out with a shaky laugh, trying to mask the pain creeping into your voice. "No one came. Guess something must’ve come up."

Silence settled between you like heavy fog, suffocating and bitter. Yeosang’s expression crumpled, guilt flashing across his face as he looked at the darkened, half-cleaned-up remains of what should have been your celebration.

He stepped closer, his voice soft and thick with regret. "Yn... I— I thought they would be here. I thought—" He stopped himself, his fists clenching at his sides.

You forced another smile, waving a hand as if to brush it off. "It's fine, Sangie. Really. You’re here now, right?" You tried to sound cheerful, but your voice wavered at the edges.

Yeosang stepped closer, his movements slow and gentle, as if afraid you might shatter right there in front of him. His hand came up, fingers soft beneath your chin as he tilted your face toward him.

His eyes softened instantly, the guilt in them deepening when he saw the tear tracks staining your cheeks, your lashes still wet from crying. His thumb brushed tenderly under your eye, catching a stray tear.

“Yn…” he whispered, his voice cracking just enough to reveal the ache in his chest. “You’ve been crying this whole time?”

You tried to look away, but his touch held you there — not forceful, just steady. Grounding. Your lips trembled as you fought to keep your composure, but the dam had already broken. "I really thought this year would be different," you confessed in a whisper, raw and honest.

Yeosang’s brows pinched together, his heart twisting painfully. "I thought we’d all be here too," he said quietly, almost to himself. "You shouldn’t have spent your birthday like this. Not alone. Not like this."

Your shoulders trembled under the weight of the moment, and without another word, Yeosang pulled you into a firm, warm embrace. His arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he was trying to hold you together with just his presence.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, his cheek resting lightly against your head. "You didn’t deserve this."

Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, gripping tightly as you finally let yourself cry into him, the hurt too big to hold in anymore.

And Yeosang just held you — like he had no intention of ever letting go.

You laid curled up on your bed, Yeosang’s shirt hanging loosely on your frame, the familiar scent of him surrounding you like a fragile cocoon. Finally, after everything, you had drifted off to sleep — though the evidence of your heartache remained, the tear-streaks visible on your cheeks in the dim light of your room.

Yeosang sat beside you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His eyes, usually soft and warm, were stormy with fury. His gaze never left your sleeping form as his jaw tensed and loosened, a silent war waging within him.

How could they have forgotten?

They had promised. Promised.

He replayed it over and over in his head — the excitement in your eyes when you told them about your plans, the way you had been counting down the days, the way you had trusted them to make this year different. To make you feel loved. Wanted.

But instead, they had left you alone.

Yeosang’s fingers twitched, his anger simmering hotter with every breath he took. He wanted to call them. No — he wanted to drag them here, make them see what they had done. Make them see the pain they caused, make them understand that this wasn’t just a missed party.

It was your heart they had stepped on.

His gaze softened only when it fell back to you. Carefully, so gently it was almost reverent, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered on your skin, a silent vow forming in his mind.

I won’t let this happen again. Never again.

As you let out a small, shuddering breath in your sleep, Yeosang exhaled too — slow and controlled, as if trying to push back the storm inside him just long enough to let you rest peacefully.

But once you woke up, once he was sure you were okay… He would make sure the others felt every ounce of the weight they’d left on your shoulders.

You nervously chewed on your nails as you stood in the elevator, the bag of food and cake in your other hand, eyes fixed on the changing numbers. When the door finally opened, you froze, startled to see Jongho and Mingi there, chatting and smiling before they noticed you.

"Oh? Noona!" they both said in unison, their faces lighting up with wide smiles.

You quickly took your nails out of your mouth, knowing they hated when you did that. "Hi Jongho, hi Mingi. Going up or down?"

They stepped into the elevator, pressing the same button you had just selected. "Up," Mingi said with a grin. "Hyung called a meeting. How was your party? Sorry we couldn't make it, but I'm sure the others had fun, right?"

You forced a smile, tearing your gaze away from them as the words felt heavy on your tongue. "A blast," you replied, your voice wavering. "But I brought some leftovers. You guys don’t mind taking them up for me, do you?"

Jongho took the bags from your hand, shaking his head in refusal before glancing at you with a puzzled look. "Why don't you join us? The others would love to see you, even though they just saw you."

You gulped, feeling the weight of his words settle in. "Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude. You can tell them I said hi, though."

Mingi and Jongho exchanged a confused look, both shrugging before nodding their heads in agreement. "Alright then. Again, we're really sorry, Noona, for missing your birthday."

You forced a smile, waving them off as the elevator doors slowly closed. "It’s fine," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as the doors shut between you and them.

Mingi and Jongho stood frozen for a moment, staring at the now-closed elevator doors before exchanging a glance. "That was weird, right?"

Mingi nodded, his brow furrowed. "Very weird."

As they entered the practice room, Yunho and Wooyoung’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the bags of food hanging from the maknae’s arms. "Ooh, where did this come from?"

Letting Wooyoung eagerly take the bags from him, Mingi glanced around at everyone, still confused. "Yn… she says it’s leftovers from her party."

The room fell quiet for a beat as everyone exchanged uncertain looks.

"Party? What party are you talking about?" Hongjoong asked, grabbing the tub that had his name on it, still unaware of what was happening.

"Yn's birthday party, you know, the one we all planned for her months ago?" Jongho responded, his voice tinged with confusion.

Seonghwa’s expression shifted as he shook his head, his face paling. He glanced at the others, and soon, the same realization hit everyone. Mingi and Jongho's faces turned to horror as they pieced everything together.

"Did no one go?" Seonghwa asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question hung in the air, thick with regret.

They all shook their heads, a heavy silence settling in the room. Hongjoong sucked in a breath, the realization hitting him hard.

"Did anyone at least let her know they weren't going?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I thought Mingi told her!" Jongho cried out, panic creeping into his tone.

Mingi's eyes widened as he looked at the maknae in horror. "Dude, I thought you were going to tell her!?" he snapped, the blame now shifting between them both, neither of them able to believe what had just happened.

" yeosang you've been awfully quiet. Did you go?" Hongjoong asked.

"... yeah," Yeosang finally answered, his voice low, tight, and simmering beneath the surface.

Every head in the room snapped toward him.

"You did?" Yunho asked, his brows knitting together as hope flickered in his eyes for just a moment. "So she wasn’t alone?"

Yeosang’s jaw clenched as he looked down at the floor, his fists curling at his sides. "No. She was alone." His voice was sharp, almost slicing through the thick, suffocating silence.

The brief hope in Yunho's expression crumbled.

"What do you mean?" Seonghwa asked, his throat tight.

"I mean," Yeosang ground out, lifting his eyes to glare at all of them, "when I got there, she had been sitting in that empty room, for hours. No calls. No messages. No one showed up."

The air seemed to drain from the room.

Wooyoung���s smile had long since vanished, his eyes wide and guilt creeping into every corner of his face. "Hyung, we—we really thought someone told her we couldn’t come—"

"No, you didn’t think," Yeosang snapped, his composure fracturing. "None of you thought. None of you cared enough to double-check. She sat there, waiting, crying—!" His voice cracked slightly, raw with barely restrained emotion. "She cried herself to sleep that night. Wearing my shirt. Because that’s all she had left for comfort."

Hongjoong closed his eyes tightly, as if that would block out the brutal truth that had just been thrust upon them. But it was too late. The weight of their mistake pressed down hard, unforgiving.

"I swear to you," Yeosang continued, his chest rising and falling with fury, "if she ever sheds another tear because of us, because of this—" His voice shook with restrained rage. "I won't forgive you. Any of you."

They were silent. No excuses left. No deflections. Just the harsh, suffocating reality of their neglect.

Yeosang’s eyes, usually soft and thoughtful, burned with the promise of consequence as he grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?" Jongho asked quietly, almost afraid to know.

"Home," Yeosang answered coldly. "Back to her. Where I should’ve been from the start."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving them all to stew in the wreckage of what they had done.

[imnotkaizer]

closer. paigebueckers x reader.

S : your known enemy, paige, finding out you failed your finals which you dedicated your life preparing for, she then gladly helped you loosen up.

W : munch paige. fingering. jealous paige. breakdown. public sex. dub-connish. almost caught. paige starts to get agressive while jealous.

You are currently walking for your next class, it was such a hassle today, you have been focusing too much on your studies that you forgot what fun felt like, a single drop of booze in your tounge will be really appreciated.

Finals is near, everyone is buried in their textbooks, tensions of scribbling and pages flipping, no one wanted to be caught unprepared.

Except for this girl, paige.

She approached you with a sharp smile, you stood still, heart steady, already knowing this wouldnt end with words.

She sauntered over, her grin wide and smug, she leaned in, voice dripping with mockery, "you look like your suffering." she assumed by the sight of your stressed out face, you rolled your eyes resisting the urge to snap but you couldnt help yourself.

"atleast im trying, unlike you. when was the last time you opened your notes?" you tilt your head brows furrowed with that amused smirked plastered on your lips.

She snapped back, voice dripping with arrogance. "pretty sure your aware of my gpa." she leaned down lips brushing on your ear. "for a busy athlete like me, still managed." she bragged.

You couldnt help but scan her from head to toe, the jersey clinging to her lean form, arms crossed, you swallowed your saliva, you cant blame her for being cocky, i mean look at her.

She noticed your eyes lingering a little too long, she raised an eyebrows a sly smirk curling on her lips, "like what you see?" she teased like she was aware of the effect she had on you.

"fuck off." you frowned, stomping your way to your next class clutching your books closer to your chest.

. . . .

The moment finally arived, your final exam was finally placed infront of you, the weight of it pressing down on your chest, but you pushed it all aside, all it mattered now is your paper.

Scanning the papers infront of you, the words blurring together, overwhelmed by the sheer amout of information you had to rethink, you started to panic, you stared at the same line for six minutes.

As the final bell rang, signalling the end of the exam, you let out a breath, but the relief was short lived when your professor called you over with a firm stare, she handed you your paper with a harsh red F, "what happend dear?" she asked calmly, your throat got stuck, lips apart, breathing shallow.

The second your professor walked away, you sniffled, all crashing down on you, you sprinted to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest, tears starting to fall uncontrollably.

You leaned you palm on the cold counter glaring at yourself through the mirror, you felt defeated, mistaken.

Just your luck, paige walked in, her jersey still damp from practice, the faint smell of sweat mixed with her expensive perfume, towel around the back of her neck, her eyes immidiately caught yours filled with tears, she kept queit and sighed deeply.

"figured this would happen." she muttured, you let out a hitched gasped sniffling more. "leave me alone, paige." you begged through sobs, squeezing your eyes shut.

She sighed crossing her arms, she then took a step towards you, her usual rough exterior softening for a moment "hey.." she murmured her voice low.

"its okay, you'll bounce back." as she was about to pat your shoulder, you flinched rubbing your knuckles with your thumb as to comfort yourself.

"i know what it feels like." she sputtered out of the blue, you looked over at her lips apart eyebrows raised, her eyes softened heart clenching.

"i dont need your sweet talk." you spat gritting your teeth, bringing your palm to you face calming yourself.

"okay, suit yourself." paige was quick to give up backing away, you breathed heavily, keeping your gaze softened, getting desperate, she noticed this, the tension was too much, too much to bare.

Paige lowered her eyebrows, leaning closer to your face until you felt her breath hit your cheeks, she scanned your eyes glistening, she cursed under her breath and bought her lips againsts your, pulling you closer by the waist kissing you deeply.

She took your hand grasping on them tightly, dragging you to a empty stall, you barely had time to react before she slammed you against the wall, kissing you deeper, hungry and demanding, teeth grazing, hands firm on your waist like you would slip.

You could barely pull away to catch your breath, lips swollen, eyes glazed, but she didnt even give you a second more before crashing her mouth back onto yours, deeper.

Your let out a soft muffled moan into the kiss, not being able to hold it back, then you felt the curve of her lips against yours.

Her lips parted from yours slowly, deliberately, and just slowly, unsure if she should, she then just stared at you scanning face.

Her hands starts to trail under your shirt, you gasped when she found your nipple, pinching them roughly, you hissed squeezing your eyes shut, she presses her forehead againsts yours, whispering. "you have no idea what you do to me."

Your breath hitched, swallowing a lump. "all those stupid bickerin, fuckin love them." she scoffed her smirk staying plastered on her lips cocky smirk.

"aint even have any idea why you hate me." she slowly kneeled infront of you, keeping her eyes on you deliberate.

"let me show you, how much i hate you too." she gave you a deceiving smile, her fingers reaching your waistband, slowly dragging it down, off with your thong, she watched your face the whole time.

Your breath hitched, blinking momentarily, stunned by her action, your thighs twitched but she held them secured just in time.

She slowly flicked her tounge teasingly at your folds, observing your reaction, her two fingers reached your entrance, easing them up.

She then sucked you clit, teeth grazing her whole tounge gliding on your clit, you groaned throwing your head back.

She lifted your one leg up bringing them to her shoulder, she leaned up pressing your body more to the door.

Your breath got caught when the sound of the door swinging open hit your ear, you are quick to slap you mouth, covering any clues that the two of you are currently one of these stalls.

You look over at paige and notice her eye smile, you rolled your eyes bitinf your lips hoping it would help contain the noise.

"Dont you think (name) getting a little to sexy these days?"

"yeah girl shit- i mean- her ass is a fucking cake."

"should make your move on her girl."

Paige sinked her teeth on your clit, two fingers suddenly sliding roughly inside you without warning.

You accidentally let out a small whimper "mhh-!" squeezing your eyes shut, the room became quiet, a little too quiet, getting so overwhelming.

"anyone here?" the girl called out, paige didnt stop her relentless abuse on your pussy, not giving a single shit.

"the fuck." the girl muttered. "girl lets go."

The door swang open again slamming close, paige leaned up licking her bottom lip, glaring at you.

"Why are you blushing?" she furrowed her brows lips apart, as she curled her fingers inside you, her eyes focused on your flushed cheeks.

"no im no-" she cut you off gripping on your chin firmly to keep your stare at her. "you fucking are, you turned on by them?" she tilt her head, voice venomous, her teeth gritting.

"yeah? hm?" she squeezer her lips together getting a notice on your trembling legs thats on the urge to give up. "no-" you groaned when she increased her pace, she buried her face on your neck whispering.

"want them too fuck you too?" she asked, not exactly a question, more like a warning, you are quick to shake your head.

"but you know baby, no one will even fuck you this good." she hummed mockingly, and that one final thrust, your legs completely gave up, paige quickly caught you lifting you up, white liquid dripping on your thighs.

MORE WORKS .ᐟ

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

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[sleepyjuice]

flashback to the first time you tried to end things with toxic!rafe…

it was after a particularly nasty argument. rafe was trying to defend the fact that he nearly killed your male cousin at a party earlier that night because he thought it was someone trying to hit on you. in his eyes, he didn’t do anything wrong because he ‘thought he was protecting you.’ your cousin was thankfully okay, but this only isolated you even further from your family.

“rafe, we have been nonstop screaming for nearly two hours. this is not normal. i’m not doing this shit anymore. i’m done, this is over.” your throat was raw, your head hurt and you were beyond emotionally exhausted. 

“so you’re giving up? that’s great, didn’t realize i was fucking a goddamn quitter. do you know how much shit i’ve been through and didn’t give up? yet you wanna end this shit because your precious fucking feelings are hurt. fuck you dude.” he scoffed and god you had never felt smaller. tears flowing freely down your cheeks, you began to gather your stuff that was laying around rafe’s room, shoving it all into a tote bag. rafe watched you silently, arms crossed over his broad chest like a child. you sniffled once you were fully packed, taking a moment to look over at rafe whose eyes were on you, but the moment your eyes met his, he looked away.

“get the fuck out of my house.” was all he said to you, and you listened, slamming his bedroom door behind you on your way out. rafe jumped up when you slammed his door, charging for it and ready to cuss you out for ‘disrespecting his property’ but when he heard your little cries from all the way downstairs, he stopped himself.

you turned your car on, adjusting your headlights as it was pitch black outside now, taking a deep breath before shakily backing out of the driveway.

you didn’t get very far before your car was beeping loudly at you, signaling there was something right behind your car. you slammed on the brakes and put the car in park before unbuckling your seatbelt to go and see what had happened. but before you could get out of the car, your drivers side door was swinging open to reveal none other than rafe, his chest rising and falling rapidly and fresh tears staining his cheeks now too.

“rafe… what are you doing? i almost hit you!” you placed a hand over your chest as you calmed down over the initial shock of a potential accident. rafe not letting you leave though, after telling you to get the fuck out, was just another horrible thing to add to tonight’s list of shitty events.

“i know, i know. i just didn’t like how we ended our conversation upstairs, baby… will you please come back inside?” he spoke softly now, his hand reaching for your chin to softly tilt it up towards him. his touch still felt the exact same.

the worst part is, with him not behind your car anymore, you could have easily backed up and left now, but you didn’t. you took your keys out of the ignition and silently followed behind rafe as he led you back up to his bedroom.

you expected him to scream at you again, to get up in your face and berate you for wanting to leave this relationship. but he didn’t, he apologized. said something about how he had gotten into an argument with his dad before the party and that put him in a bad mood.

you held him as he cried to you, telling you about what his dad said, about how scared he was when he thought you were leaving him for another man at the party, how he can never be without you.

the night ended with rafe spooning against you as you drifted off to sleep, your body naked aside from one of rafe’s shirts, your clothes discarded as rafe had fucked you good after he finished crying, giving you four really good orgasms.

you were seconds away from sleep when you felt rafe kiss your earlobe from behind you, his warm breath tickling your soft skin as he spoke.

“don’t ever try to fuckin’ leave me again.”

“i won’t.”

[tinylilacbun]

Hi!! Idk if you still taking request with dad!rafe but I just had an idea🤍

His young daughter caught the cold and rafe has to stay at home or smth to take care of her, and maybe somebody being confused at how soft he is with her(ФωФ)

-🪻

Unexpected Visit

Pairing: dad!rafe cameron x daughter!reader, auntie!sarah cameron + pogues x toddler!reader

Warnings: sickness, rafe being soft, fluff, set in s4, not proofread, word count: 1,3k

. ₊ ⊹ . ˖ . ༉‧₊˚.. ₊ ⊹ . ˖ . ༉‧₊˚.

Rafe is holding you on his hip as he fixes you some soup to get to eat a little and keep you hydrated since you caught a nasty cold a few days ago.

You're still in your pajamas, your cheeks still slightly flushed from being freshly bathed, resting your cheek against his shoulder with a tired pout.

He hates seeing you so weak and tired the whole time, getting the best and different kinds of medicine to get you back on your feet again, knowing you can't stand to only being able to lay in bed the whole day and not play around like you're used to.

You whine into his shoulder after another small coughing fit, your throat hurting, just as your head from sniffling the whole time.

"I know, It's almost ready, princess." He coos, turning his head to kiss your burning forehead. "We can cuddle on the couch after you eat something, yeah?"

You nod against him in response, letting him pop the pacifier in your mouth that's clipped to your shirt, grasping onto his shirt with your hand.

Whenever you're sick Rafe pushes everything aside, work, calls, anything that could take his focus from you.

He wouldn't even call your babysitter who's more than qualified to take care of you, even in this state.

The thing is, you only cling to him in those times, crying every time he leaves you alone for longer than 5 minutes.

Turning off the stove he grabs a bowl to pour some of the soup into it, carrying you towards the dining table and getting you settled in your high chair before starting to feed you small spoons of soup.

As he feeds you, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the condo, making him groan. "It better be important." He mutters under his breath, grabbing a piece of bread and ripping it into tiny edible pieces for you. "Daddy will be right back."

He watches as you take some of the bread and ruffles your hair before making his way to the front door, glancing towards the kitchen a few times to make sure you're okay.

After opening the front door he furrows his brows at seeing his sister and the pogues standing at his doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sarah sighs, scratching the side of her neck. "I, um, can we come in?"

Rafe looks over his shoulder, watching as you dip a piece of bread into the soup before eating it. "I'm kinda busy right now. Y/N is sick and needs a lot of attention at the moment."

"It's important, Rafe. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't, you know that."

He sighs, of course he does, but he somehow feels uneasy letting all those people into his house who hate him just as much as he does them.

Sarah is still family though. Since you were born and his father's death he really knows that he should cherish the bits of family he has left and how important it is to keep it together as best as he can.

Reluctantly he uncrosses his arms and steps aside, gesturing for them to enter his house and closing the door behind them, walking towards the kitchen again as he warns them. "Don't touch anything. I mean it Maybank."

JJ places the expensive looking picture frame down on the shelf again after almost letting it slip from his hand, catching up with the others quickly. "Wouldn't think of it."

"You finished, sweetheart?" Rafe asks as he lifts you out of your high chair, making his way to the living room.

He sets you down on the couch, making sure you're comfortable with a fluffy blanket tucked around you and hands you your iPad before sitting down beside you.

The pogues spread around the room, Sarah, John B, and Kie sitting down on the free seats while the others stand around, taking in their surroundings.

Even with how well kept and professional Rafe presents himself outside of his home, everyone can tell that he has a kid based on the colored paper sheets that hang on the walls or the different toys scattered around.

You snuggle into Rafe's side as you tap away on your iPad, still sucking slowly on your pacifier, too exhausted to greet everyone.

"Well, what's so important?" Rafe asks, wrapping an arm around your small body to keep you close.

Sarah fidgets with her hands nervously, looking at John B for a moment before back at Rafe. "Listen, despite everything that's happened between us, I thought I should tell you this. You're still my brother, Rafe, and I can't even talk with Wheezie because Rose won't let me."

"Jesus, Sarah, just spit it out already." Rafe presses her, wanting them all to leave again so he can continue to take care of you.

"Daddy..." You whimper, holding your device to him expectantly. "Wan' Bluey."

"Hm? Yeah, of course." He says softly, his exterior changing the second you're talking to him, taking your iPad to put on your favorite show before handing it back to you.

It's a shock for the pogues, to say the least, seeing the psychopathic murderer who had made their life's hell the last years being this soft to a toddler.

"I'm pregnant." Sarah finally spits out and Rafe freezes for a second there, chuckling at that but the serious expression on his sister's face tells him she's not joking.

"Oh, damn, you're being for real." He huffs out a nervous laugh, not really knowing how to react or what she expects from him now. "Congrats, I guess. You're in for a wild ride, I can tell you that, especially with y'know...your financial status. Heard business isn't really cutting it for you."

"We manage just fine." Pope retorts from the side.

"Hey, just saying what I heard." Rafe responds, lifting his hand in surrender as his other rubs up and down your arm. "Seriously, I'm...happy for you, Sarah. It's a big step though."

"Thank you. I thought that you deserve to know since...I was the first one you told about Y/N." Sarah smiles a little, watching as Rafe pulls out a tissue and holds it to your nose.

"Um, if you need something you can come over or call me." He says, not looking away from you as you blow your nose and cleaning it right after. "That doesn't mean I want all of you here every time."

The others roll their eyes but it was expected, of course Rafe wasn't going to have them mingle around here just because Sarah is allowed to and he wasn't going to risk them being in your presence for too long when he can prevent it.

Sarah nods, getting up from her seat and grabbing John B's hand. "We should get going now."

Rafe nods back at her, pressing a kiss to your head before getting up as well to let them all out, leading them back to the front door.

As he is about to close the door again he stops in his track when Sarah suddenly turns to hug him, a silent show of gratitude for being there for her even though they aren't exactly on good terms yet.

He simply stands there, looking anywhere but the pogues when she releases him again and joins the others, quickly shutting the door and processes what just happened.

They all make their way to the Twinkie, the unmistakable tension there and only interrupted by JJ walking backwards in front of them. "Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Did we just witness Rafe fucking Cameron being a softie?"

"That's just because of his kid, don't let yourself get fooled by this." Pope reminds him, stifling a laugh when the blonde almost trips.

Back in the condo, Rafe got comfortable on the sofa with you, gently manoeuvring you to cradle you against him as he turns on the tv after you discard your iPad to nuzzle more into his body.

"Guess you'll get a cousin sooner than I expected, huh?" He chuckles at the slight confusion on your face but quickly ignore what he said when he puts on Tangled.

[saintzweig]

you've had a crush on art donaldson since the day you joined the stanford tennis team during your first year, while he was in his second. and with his charming boy-next-door personality, it was no doubt that everyone else had a crush on him.

you were in the same friend group, all within the tennis team. he was nice and sweet to you, but he was nicer and sweeter to everyone else. everytime you'd hang out, he would always be flirting with atleast one person in the group but never with you. at first you came up with reasons, maybe it was because you joined the group last, maybe it's because he doesn't know you as well as everyone else, maybe it's because you're younger.

if someone says that they're cold, art is pulling them closer or giving them his jacket to warm them up but when you do, he only offers to turn up the thermostat. someone's thirsty? they're free to drink out of his bottle but when you are, he only offers to fill up your bottle for you.

okay, maybe you're overthinking this but as time goes on you're starting to feel like he's deliberately leaving you out, maybe you did something to him? maybe you did something he didn't like.

but you've been nothing but nice to him, always striking up a conversation and asking all about him. perhaps you were too nice that it weirded him out.

so with that conclusion, you decided to avoid him. staying busy and far during trainings unless you two were grouped together, and when you are you barely spoke a word. excusing yourself from hanging out with the group, telling your friends that you're too busy with school works at the moment. only saying yes if you know he isn't coming, and when he catches up you just do your best to sit as far away from him as possible.

you didn't know it yet but it upset him, tashi knew though. she pulled you aside while you were at a diner after practice. "what's going on between you and art?"

"huh?" you tried to play dumb, but really there was nothing to play about consider you don't know anything but your side. "nothing?"

"you've been avoiding him, why?" you only gave her a sheepish look, which then implied that there was something.

"i'm not, and isn't he your boyfriend? he's always with you and whatnot" you really didn't mean to let the bitter tone slip as you replied to her. she only laughed as if the dumbest thing just came out of your mouth, "i'm dating his best friend, he's like that with all his friends"

so maybe you're not his friend, "oh"

before she can say anything else, art came up from behind, placing his arm around tashi's shoulder. "just paid the bill, you're riding with me, tash?"

she locked eyes with you before shaking her head, "nah, i'm catching a ride with the girls. she can ride with you" she nodded her head towards you, and your heart broke at the way his expression changed. was it discomfort? disgust? disappointment?

"oh, that's alright. i'm taking a cab back to campus" you swallowed the lump in your throat. tashi only elbowed him at the side, prompting him to say something.

"no, no i can drive you, it's fine" and that's how you ended up on his passenger seat, blinking away your tears as you faced away from him. it was awkward, maybe that's understating it. art's drumming his fingers on the wheel, you can't see it but he looks like a fish trying to figure out what to say to you and backing out the last second. maybe you're asleep? he can't see your face that well.

until you accidentally let out a sniffle, art's head whipped towards you. "are you– are you okay?"

you really tried to keep it in, there's nothing more humiliating than scaring the boy you've liked for years by crying out of nowhere, while he was driving you back to your dorm. his question only drove you to sob harder, your hands pressed against your face to hide your tears from him.

"y/n?" you only shook your head, hiccuping as you sob. you don't even know what you're crying about anymore but you can't stop.

art breathes out of his nose, pulling over the side of the road before facing towards you. "hey, look at me?" you sniffed, refusing to turn to him. god, you must look like a mess right now.

you quiet down at the sound of his sigh, your sobs fading and replaced with hiccups. how could you face him now?–

art grabs your wrist gently and pries them away from your face, well, there goes the answer to your question. his eyes scanned your tear stained face, the way your eyes look up at him through your wet lashes, your nose red and lips plump. he could barely let out a word at the sight "i–"

you cut him off, "i'm sorry" you sniffled, "i didn't– i just"

"hey, it's alright" he pushes the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. even in your state, you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered at the gesture. this is the first time he's been this close to you after all, probably not with everyone else. has he done this with your other friends? is this how he comforts them when they cry out of nowhere? they're probably not stupid enough to cry like this, they probably don't even have any reason to–

your thoughts were cut off as he lowered his face to meet your gaze, "y/n? y/n?" you blush, shaking your head and pulling away from his touch. "sorry, just zoned out for a sec" you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, and art frowns in the driver's seat.

"what's going on?"

"no, nothing. i'm just tired, had a long day i guess" you laughed it off, only to come out as a weird noise that further embarrassed you.

"is it me?" his voice sounded smaller than usual, defeated even. your head whips towards him and he looks so ... anxious? "you've been avoiding me"

"i– no?" he scoffs, his fingers anxiously tapping on the wheel. "i just– fine, i have been avoiding you" you sighed, you figured since you've already embarrassed yourself by breaking down in front of him, you might as well do this now.

"it's just ... how come you're nice to everyone but me?" he raises an eyebrow at your question, "am i not nice to you?"

"no, i mean ... well, you're kind of ... flirty with everyone ... and it's making me feel left out" you wish the seats would swallow you right then and there.

"oh"

oh.

should you get out of the car and just walk to your dorm and leave your friend group and maybe leave stanford and maybe leave your tennis dreams behind?

"i'm sorry" art ducks his head, "i didn't mean to? i mean, no i did– not that i was purposefully leaving you out– well, i was but i didn't mean to make you feel left out, i just–" he sighs, dropping his head onto his hands. "i didn't want to make you uncomfortable, and my friends know me well enough to know that it's never serious and i don't want you to think that as well"

now you're confused, "you don't want me to think that you're never serious?"

"i mean, if– when i do flirt with you, i don't want you to think that i'm just playing around" he lifts his head and meets your eyes.

"and i just get really nervous around you that it makes me all jittery and i don't know, i was scared that i might end up doing too much and you'll think i'm weird so i just ... don't."

you shake your head in disbelief, "wait, back up– what do you mean you don't want me to think you're just playing around?"

he shifts his gaze and ruffles the back of his hair, "i know this is really stupid and you might hate me for it but i've actually ... i actually have a crush on you"

"and i know it was cruel of me to flirt with everyone right in front of you and i have no good reasons for that, a part of me thought that maybe you'll initiate something because i was too much of a pussy so i'm really sorry ... and you can call me stupid and dumb for as long as you want ... if you'll still have me?"

you stare at him in disbelief, but the way his usual charisma is gone and is replaced by a jittery and blushing art led you to believe that he's sincere. "so i can call you my idiot?"

[mattslolita]

boynextdoor!matt's first interaction with telekinetic!reader . . .

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

her fingers trembled gently as her eyes scanned the inked wording on the page, lip caught between her teeth in anticipation ─── she'd just begun the chapter where the love interest would reveal his true feelings for the girl, as it was told in her perspective. the library was damn near deserted, the only patron being her. it was quiet, almost lacking lifelessness aside from the librarian herself ─── miriam's anticipation however had her heart racing, beating against her ribcage wildly.

matt quietly walks into the empty library, curious eyes roving over the shelves of books as he searched for the one he would need to complete his assignment for his history class. he was unaware of miriam's already lingering, his mind elsewhere even ─── he'd never spared the girl a second thought in his life. not because of how others around perceived the girl, but because he'd never truly her before.

until today.

he walks towards an isle titled 'historical', dust in his senses causing his eyes to water as the particles caught in his nose due to the lack of interaction in this particular section. he dabs at his nose, a small sniffle following as he continues through the isle.

as he emerges, a lone table comes into view ─── he blinked twice when his eyes landed on a ballpoint pen, hovering just inches above the wooden table it resided on. matt squints his eyes, chest heaving up and down in disbelief ─── what the fuck? a whole pen was hovering above the table ─── no strings had been attached, as it was lone, almost forgotten. matt felt like he was going crazy, like he was imagining things.

until he reached the end of the isle, and a small, brown haired girl came into view. her bangs nearly covered her entire forehead, and he could barely see her brown eyes as they looked down at the pages of the book in her hands, in her lap. her knee high socks were bunched at the bottoms due to her sitting cross-legged in the chair, her skirt just above her ankles. and that's when his breath caught in his throat, when he noticed who she was.

as if sensing his presence, miriam's eyes dart upward, gaze locked on matt as he nervously ran a hand through his tousled dark hair. his adams apple bobs up and down his throat slowly as he gives her a nervous smile ─── a soft gasp leaves miriam's lips as her eyes quickly dart to the pen, the writing tool dropping with a small thud on the table in front of her.

"m'sorry, i didn't mean to. . .i didn't know anybody was here," matt says softly, eyes darting towards the pen again before he looks back up to miriam.

"it's okay," miriam almost whispers, looking down as she picks at the hangnails at her fingertips.

miriam thought he'd walk away ─── his figure comes closer, the curious boy sitting in the seat next to miriam. her breath hitches at the growing body heat pulsing between them, having never been this close to another boy before. it freaks her out so much as so, causing her to scoot her chair away from his. matt's eyebrows crease in confusion at this, however he doesn't question her action ─── instead, his eyes linger on her wondrously.

"if you wan' tell me, how. . .did you do that? with the pen?" he queries patiently, eyes still fixated on her.

"i- i can't control it sometimes," miriam replies, voice rising barely above a whisper as she straightens her posture only slightly. "i didn't even notice it was happenin'. mama doesn't know 'bout it either. m'scared to tell her. she'll call me a demon, she'll say i'm a bad seed...punish me."

matt's expression softens as he analyzes the girl sitting beside him ─── everyone was quite aware of miriam's mother and their religious household. he wasn't necessarily a non-believer, but he wasn't religious. he briefly wondered if miriam had believed in God herself, or it was something forced upon her by her mother. the worrisome expression on her face had his brain on overdrive with the numerous questions he wanted to ask her.

"it's pretty cool if ya ask me," matt smiles, nudging her ever so slightly. she jumps at the contact, startled. "it's really a gift if you think about it."

miriam's eyebrows knit together, deep in thought ─── wait a minute. what was she doing? sitting next to this boy, letting him sweet talk her . . . her mama had warned her about this kind of thing already. miriam had been well aware of matthew sturniolo and the crowd her ran with at school; even if he himself had not participated in teasing her, he was friends with the ones who had. and now here he sat, telling her he thought something about her was cool? a trap.

without answering him, miriam began to quickly pack her belongings wordlessly. matt watches her silently, confusion painting his handsome features; had he done something wrong?

"wait, where you goin?" matt asks her, as she's quick to push her chair in with the foot of her low-cut boot.

"goodbye, matt," miriam murmurs, rushing away from him.

but he's unrelenting, quick to stand up and follow close behind her. the librarian gives them a scowl, perhaps due to the scuff their shoes make against the floor. matt's entity looms behind miriam, as she silently prays in her head for him to just give it up and go away.

she's out and just past the libary's pathway, but matt is hot on her heels ─── in an instant, he gently spins her around, warm hand sending shivers through miriam's body against her white sleeve.

"can you stop jus' for a second?"

his slightly demanding tone causes miriam to stop in her tracks and turn around to face him slowly; she studies him carefully, books nestled snuggly between her arms. "why do you wan' talk to me?"

"i don't mean to bug you," matt sighs, suddenly feeling embarrassed with the way he'd chased her, "i guess i'm just curious about you and what you can do."

"you can't tell anybody," miriam warns him, her pupils widening, "promise me."

matt nodded ─── he could do this. he could keep miriam's secret. suddenly, a new feeling blossomed in matt's chest . . . it was more than just curiosity about her power ─── he'd genuinely found his interest piqued since seeing her in the library alone. his mind raced a mile a minute with questions that quickly burred into a jumbled knot, attached to his brain.

"i promise you."

[bradleysass]

Map - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 773

"You're holding it upside down."

"I'm not holding it upside down, Regulus."

James’ voice wobbled dangerously, which was a sign that he was either going to cry or laugh hysterically. Regulus hoped for the latter. He didn't have the emotional energy to console him if he broke down into frustrated tears.

"You absolutely are," Regulus said, snatching the wrinkled, smudged map out of James' grip. "The words are upside down, you idiot."

James made a strangled noise. "Oh, because that’s the problem! Not the fact that the ink is running, and we have no idea where we are, and my socks are wet, and we—"

"James."

James inhaled sharply. He looked one second away from a full-blown tantrum. His glasses had slid down his nose, and his curls were frizzing from the humidity. Regulus should’ve found it funny, but he was too busy being angry.

"This was your plan," Regulus reminded him, holding up the ruined map like it was exhibit A in James’ trial for Worst Navigator of the Year. "You said we wouldn’t get lost. You said, and I quote, 'Reg, my love, my moon and stars, my most beautiful boy, I am a professional at reading maps.'"

James groaned, running a hand down his face. "To be fair, I really thought I was."

"Clearly, you were wrong."

"You could be a little less mean about it," James muttered, kicking a stray rock.

Regulus folded his arms. "We are stranded in the middle of nowhere. My shoes are covered in mud. There is no signal. There is no road. There is—" He gestured vaguely at the abyss of trees and dirt surrounding them. "—nothing, James. How, exactly, am I supposed to be nice about that?"

James sniffled.

Regulus exhaled through his nose. "Oh, don’t do that."

"I'm not—" James cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. "I’m not doing anything."

"You’re going to cry," Regulus accused.

"I am not going to cry!" James said, deeply offended, even as his lower lip wobbled.

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin." He was stuck in the middle of the wilderness with a man who was possibly on the verge of tears and definitely not on the verge of getting them out of this mess.

James huffed, rubbing his nose. "I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas."

"That's because I'm too busy being furious at you."

"Okay, but if you put that aside for a second—"

Regulus fixed him with a glare.

James sighed, defeated.

The trees rustled ominously.

Regulus stared down at the smeared map in his hands. The ink had bled in long, inky streaks, their route a meaningless blur. They might as well have been looking at an abstract painting. He let his hands drop to his sides, feeling the last of his patience drain out of him.

"Well," he said flatly. "I suppose this is where we die."

James groaned dramatically. "Oh my god, Reg, you’re being so dramatic."

"Am I?" Regulus turned his glare back on him. "Are we not two idiots lost in the wilderness, with no sense of direction and no survival skills to speak of?"

James opened his mouth, then closed it. He considered. "I have survival skills," he finally muttered.

Regulus arched an eyebrow.

James hesitated. "Some survival skills."

"Which ones?" Regulus asked, voice syrupy with false sweetness. "You mean the ones that got us lost? Or the ones that made you bring a map drawn on parchment when rain was in the forecast?"

James groaned again, dramatically collapsing onto the nearest tree stump. "You love being right, don’t you?"

"I love not dying in the woods, James."

James scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay. Okay. Let's think. Worst case scenario, we sleep here for the night—"

Regulus made a strangled sound.

"—but we won’t have to do that," James hurriedly added, correctly interpreting the look of absolute horror on Regulus' face. "Because we are capable and resourceful and will get back to civilization before sunset!"

Regulus inhaled deeply through his nose. "If we get out of here, I’m going to kill you."

James grinned at him. "You’d miss me too much."

Regulus didn’t dignify that with a response.

Instead, he turned on his heel, facing a random direction. If James had ruined their only map, then they would have to get out the old-fashioned way. "Come on," he said, grabbing James by the wrist and yanking him to his feet. "We’re walking until we find a road."

"You're so bossy," James muttered, but he followed.

Regulus didn’t let go of his hand.

Even if they were doomed, they’d be doomed together.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home

Hey guyss, I wanted to write a story for Charles to celebrate his victory in Monza. I know this part is very reader x Arthur but let me know what you think and if you want more parts :)

You’ve known the Leclercs all your life. It’s hard not to when you’re their neighbour. With you and Arthur being the same age and going to the same class, you naturally became best friends, spending every moment together. From school to afternoons playing at each other's houses to accompanying his family to the track for their races, your lives were intertwined.

You grew up with them. You were there when Arthur won his first race, when Charles got into Formula 1, when you graduated high school. Your life has always been surrounded by the Leclercs, so it was almost inevitable that you’d fall for one of them—Charles.

It was evident to everyone. Even Arthur noticed, and he didn’t like it at all. He made you promise you would never date his brother. After all, how could he stand that when he was in love with you, even if you had no idea?

Your crush on Charles was just that—a crush, an infatuation, a dream. He was older than you and often had a different girl on his arm. You didn’t stand a chance, or so you thought.

Aside from your love dilemmas, everything seemed to be going okay, until one day, your father received a job offer that involved moving to Spain. Your life changed drastically from one day to the next. You spent your last night in Monaco with Arthur, savouring your final hours together before your departure.

The moon hung low over Monaco, casting a soft glow on the city. You and Arthur sat on the steps of the Leclercs' home, the cool night air surrounding you. It was quiet, the kind of silence that carries a weight of unspoken words.

"I can't believe you're leaving," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't either," you replied, looking down at your hands. "It all happened so fast. One moment, everything was normal, and the next, we're packing up our lives."

Arthur nodded, staring off into the distance. "It's not going to be the same without you here."

You felt a lump in your throat. "I'm going to miss you so much, Arthur. We've done everything together since we were kids. I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

He turned to look at you, his eyes soft but filled with something you couldn’t quite place. "You'll do great things. You always do. Spain…it's just a new adventure for you."

"But I don't want to go," you blurted out, the tears you had been holding back starting to spill over. "I want to stay here, with you, with everyone. I don’t want to leave my life behind."

Arthur reached out, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. The touch was tender, lingering longer than usual. "Hey, don’t cry. We’ll still be friends, no matter where you are. You know that, right?"

You nodded, sniffling. "I know, but it's not the same."

He hesitated for a moment, as if battling with himself. "I just…I want you to know that…you mean a lot to me. More than you probably realize."

You gave a small, shaky laugh. "You mean a lot to me too, Arthur. You're my best friend."

He looked like he wanted to say something more, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again, shaking his head. "Yeah…best friends."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Arthur gazed at you, his eyes searching yours, and you thought you saw something flicker there—a brief, intense flash of emotion that was gone as quickly as it appeared. Before you could decipher it, he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly against him.

"I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured into your hair.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "And I'll always be here for you."

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you wanting to let go, until the sky began to lighten with the first signs of dawn. With a heavy heart, you pulled back, knowing it was time to go.

"Goodbye, Arthur," you whispered.

"Goodbye," he replied, his voice barely audible.

As you walked away, you missed the way he watched you, the way his hand reached out, almost as if he wanted to call you back, to tell you everything he’d been holding inside. But he didn’t. He let you go.

Years had passed since that night. You had spent the last four years in Spain, earning your degree and living a different life. But now, you were back in Monaco, ready to start your master's degree.

The airport buzzed with activity, a mix of tourists and locals rushing to their destinations. You walked through the arrival gate, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

And there he was.

Arthur stood near the entrance, leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets, a smile spreading across his face as he spotted you. His hair was a bit longer, and he looked more mature, but his eyes still held that same warmth you remembered.

"Welcome back," he said, pulling you into a hug as you reached him.

"It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed, squeezing him tightly. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he replied, his voice softer. He pulled back, looking you over. "Spain's been good to you. You look great."

"Thanks," you said, blushing slightly. "You look good too, Arthur. Really good."

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks. It's been…different without you here."

You smiled, linking your arm through his as you started walking towards the exit. "Well, I'm back now. We have a lot of catching up to do."

As you talked, Arthur felt his heart swell with every word you said, every smile you gave. Seeing you again brought back all those feelings he’d tried so hard to bury. But he knew better than to show it. You still saw him as your best friend, nothing more. And after all this time, he didn’t want to risk ruining what you had.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed, keeping his voice light. "So, where to first? Home or food?"

You laughed. "Definitely food. I’m starving!"

Arthur chuckled, guiding you towards his car. "Food it is, then. I've got just the place in mind."

As he drove, he stole glances at you, soaking in every detail, every expression. He had never stopped loving you, even after all these years. But for now, he was content just having you back in his life, even if it was just as friends.

Because being near you, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile—that was enough. At least, for now.

Part 2

[jo-speaks]

Hi, Can I request a crybaby! reader x Quinn where the reader cries easily 😭 I love your writing btw! tysm 🌸

SWEET BLUES

overview: even the smallest gifts can get you overwhelmed with emotions.

warnings: none!

note: i absolutely love this request!! i did keep it short, but i hope you enjoy, sweet nonnie <3

You wouldn’t say you were sensitive, per se. But emotional? One hundred percent.

It didn’t matter if the situation made you extremely joyful, incredibly sad, or anything in between, but it truly felt as if you had no control over it as soon as the first tear slipped. It was like trying to build a dam to hold back all the water that fell from Niagara Falls. 

So when you first started dating Quinn, it was a shock to him, to say the least. 

Quinn knocked on your apartment door, waiting for you to grace him with the presence of not only yourself but the warmth of your apartment which heavily contrasted with the cool Vancouver air. 

You opened the door, a smile appearing on your face as you met eyes with your boyfriend of eight months. “Hey, you.” 

He chuckled at your greeting, “Hi, baby.”

Opening the entrance further, Quinn stepped into your place, immediately crowding your space to place a cold-lipped kiss on your warm ones. You relaxed in his hold, before being distracted by the sound of faint rustling. You pulled away, your eyes following the directions given by your ears. 

Looking down, you noticed Quinn was holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He followed your gaze, lifting them to your hold. 

“I noticed the ones I got you last month were wilting, so I figured I’d restock them myself.” He admitted, causing a warm feeling to rush to your cheeks. 

You didn’t say anything, opting to pull him in with your arms slung tightly around his broad shoulders. He leaned down to hold you close, wrapping his arms around your waist, trying not to make you uncomfortable with the wrapping of his gift. 

“Thank you.” You sniffled, your voice barely audible as your mouth was muffled against his shirt. 

Quinn pulled away from you, feeling a damp patch on his shoulder. He immediately found your eyes the guilty culprit, redness replacing the usual white of your pupil with tears falling from them like a stream.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He asked, panic setting in. 

You nodded, smiling at him. “It’s just a really sweet gesture. I really appreciate it, Q.” 

He laughed at your reaction, not understanding how flowers made you cry this badly, but regardless, he was glad you liked his gift enough to induce tears.

“C’mon. Let’s get these in some water and then watch a movie or something, hm?” He suggested, wanting to do more than just stand with you as you cried. 

You choked out a reply, taking the bouquet from his hand and walking into the kitchen to replace the dying flowers from their home. You set them aside, wanting to use the dried petals for cute memorabilia you’d most likely end up keeping for yourself or gifting to Quinn.

Quinn took the vase, pouring out the polluted liquid and replacing it with fresh water from the tap. He brought it back over, wrapping his arms around your waist as you cut the tips of the stems of the flowers before placing them into the refreshed dish.

“Looks great,” Quinn mumbled, placing an innocent kiss on your neck. 

When you didn’t answer, Quinn quirked an eyebrow before leaning over your shoulder to notice even more tears slipping from your eyes. 

This time, he couldn’t help but let out a full-throated laugh. Not at you, but at your reaction. 

“Baby! What is it now?” He asked, trying to contain himself. 

You shared a wet laugh with him, “It’s just- I don’t know!”

The two of you laughed together, tears yet to halt their release. Quinn held you close, his warm, gasping breaths tickling your neck as he tried to stop himself. 

Eventually, you both calmed down. Quinn turned you around to face him, placing a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and ending on your lips, his kiss lingering as he tasted the saltiness that had dripped onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a crybaby.” He teased, his tone endearing. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Whatever.”

He chuckled, “Might have to start carrying tissues with me if this is how you’re gonna react whenever I get you a gift.”

“Honestly, that might be a good idea.”

[allykabbet]

Sneezing dynamics I like

Apologetic sneezes. I don’t need to say much more. Maybe when they’re really tired, they forget to apologize after sneezing, making the other person worry.

Someone who usually stifles their sneezes but doesn’t when they’re REALLY comfortable with someone. They’re not very loud either.

False starts. Both the sneezer and the observer can feel the same type of frustration and desperation.

A person who appears outgoing, charismatic, confident, and naturally elegant but becomes shy and embarrassed when they lose control. They might stifle sneezes whenever possible, trying to avoid drawing attention, which ironically ends up drawing more attention, and then apologizes out of habit.

Someone politely steps aside from another person to sneeze into their elbow, turning to the side. "Sorry, what were you saying..." They compose themselves, but then, just a few seconds later, they turn away to sneeze again in the middle of the other person’s sentence.

Continuing the interrupted sentence after a sneeze, causing the words to come out breathless, tired, or congested.

"I didn’t know you sneezed so much when you were sick." Rediscovering new aspects of someone when they’re sick.

Becoming more affectionate or clingy when not feeling well?

Raising a finger to pause the other person before sneezing. A classic.

Sneezing into the elbow, wrist, or forearm.

Sneezing into a handkerchief, muffled, and then blowing their nose almost immediately.

Sneezing twice in such quick succession that the other person struggles to tell if it was one or two sneezes.

"Sorry, I can’t stop" or "Sorry, it got me..."

The other person grabs a roll of paper towels, asks a third person for tissues, or hands over napkins without the sneezy one asking, just because they see them sniffling or tearing up more than usual.

“Bless you. And bless you” before they sneeze a second time, just because of their pre-sneeze face.

"ATChsshu! [Insert generic sneeze sound] "Achu. Bless you!" The other person imitates the sneeze, not mockingly, just because they find it cute, before blessing them.

Fanning themselves before sneezing without realizing it, or subtly rubbing one side of their nose with a curved finger to hold back the sneeze.

SOFT sneezes. Not stifled, just intrinsically soft, as if they didn’t have the strength to sneeze more forcefully.

Clenching their teeth to stifle a sneeze and exhaling through their teeth afterward.

Two people sleeping next to each other, one spooning the other from behind. The big spoon can’t avoid sneezing but holds it back to avoid spraying the little spoon, making their whole body shake. The effort leaves them dizzy.

Sneeze followed by a congested, heavy exhalation. Pressing the bridge of the nose and shaking their head. Blinking several times and trying to concentrate on the pile of work in front of them.

Someone at public events who don’t want to sneeze, making subtle gestures like rubbing their nose with a finger, clearing their throat, swallowing, or squinting. They’re more distracted than usual, sniffling very discreetly, pressing the bridge of their nose.

A stoic character in a position of power losing control. Their subordinates seeing them as human for the first time and growing fond of their condition.

They usually sneeze in a certain way until suddenly they let out a different sneeze (maybe because they’re tired of stifling it or because it’s stronger than usual), and the other person exclaims, “Bless you!” instead of blessing them softly, and makes a comment about it. “That was strong, are you okay?”

Small comforting gestures, almost unconsciously. Lightly rubbing their back, a small touch on the forearm or leg, or gently brushing their hair.

A very polite, elegant person cursing after their fifth or sixth sneeze in a fit. “...fuck. So sorry, I can’t stop…”

“Ok-eh-aysSHTCHu!” A sneeze mixing with the last word they were saying.

A character with a mystical, almost distant aura. Probably powerful, mysterious, doing something as mundane as sneezing and “coming down” to earth. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s normal.”

Sneezing during an interview. So many situations could happen with this 🤭

“I’m going to die” A little bit of drama, exhausted, after a very strong sneezing fit.

Workaholic sick.

Sneezing and/or while smoking.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Grouchy

Katrina Gorry x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're not very happy

With Clara taking Harper to kindie, it meant that Katrina could focus on the sobbing baby that refused to settle.

You'd woken up in a foul mood with a sniffly red nose and a persistent cough that had you throwing up so much phlegm that even Harper knew something was wrong with you.

"Okay," Katrina says softly as she gently pats your back to help you clear your throat," How about a bath, huh? Would a bath be good, bubs?"

You screech in answer and try to push her away with your little uncoordinated limbs. You whine loudly when she takes you out of your onesie and slips into the bath behind you.

You usually take your baths with Harper so having Mummy sitting in the bath with you is different and strange. You screech even louder when lukewarm water is gently poured over your body in an attempt to cool you down.

You're overheated and your head is stuffed full of cotton. You try to wiggle away but Mummy's got a firm grip on you.

"You're a little grouch today, huh, bubs?" Katrina says softly when you out a particularly loud cry followed by kicking your little legs in a chance to escape. "What is it? Are you missing Harps? You know she's got kindie now."

You huff a little bit when you don't get free and opt to go limp instead. That relaxes Mummy a bit, you think, because she finally gets up out of the bath and wraps you in one of the towels nearby.

She holds you up at a distance from her as you begin coughing again, shaking her head softly. "Harps gave you a cough, huh?" She coos as she heads back into the living room," I told your Ma that kindie was a bad idea. Look at you, all sick and grouchy."

You huff again after another round of coughs.

"How about we get you a bottle, bubs? Nice, warm bottle of milk."

That's usually enough to stop whatever icky feelings you've got but you just refuse to take it today, turning your head away and forcing the nip out of your mouth whenever Katrina puts it in.

Katrina laughs slightly at your stubbornness and puts the bottle aside. You stare at her with unblinking eyes. You're still visibly sick with your cheeks burning red, bags under your eyes and the way you're taking big deep breaths through your open mouth instead of your nose.

She wipes the snot away and you scrunch your whole face up like you're insulted that she's even touching you.

"Ooh," Katrina coos softly, more than a little endeared at the little faces you're making," You're very grouchy today, bubs. Look at this little pout." She thumbs your bottom lip and you open your mouth.

She knows that this is her chance and she pops the bottle back into your mouth. Your eyebrows scrunch up at being tricked but you don't try to spit it out again while still making sure Mama knows you're angry at her as you stare unblinking up at her.

Katrina just smiles at you. Your little scrunch is just like Harper's and your even tinier hands are scrunched up like you're about to start swinging.

You break away from the bottle to drag in breath and sneeze.

"Oh! That's a big sneeze!"

You sniffle as Mama wipes your nose again and tries to give you the bottle. You refuse again and stick your tongue out and Mama laughs at you.

She's not yet gotten you dressed yet, just put you in your nappy, so you do tummy time like that.

You're not particularly enjoying it though and you make sure your annoyance is known again by letting out your signature screech.

Katrina rolls her eyes but still keeps her smile. You must be feeling pretty bad because you usually love tummy time but you keep smacking your hands on the ground and crying.

"Okay," Mama says as she picks you right back up. You don't settle quickly or easily but you're certainly calmer now that you're back in her arms rather than on your tummy time mat. "What are we going to do, bubs? You're a little funny today."

You grunt and lean against Mama's collarbone.

Katrina can feel the fever still racing through you but it's less hot than earlier. She knew that this sudden wave of sickness came from Harper's first week of kindie when she came home with the sniffles.

It hit you particularly hard because of how much younger you were than Harper and how much she loved you. Every time she went away, she came straight back home with cuddles for you and so many kisses that Katrina and Clara both had to drag her away at times to not overwhelm you.

"Are you just going to stay here? All nice and snuggly, huh?"

You grunt again but don't really do anything else and Mama has to reach down to grab a blanket and wrap it around you. She wipes your runny nose again and goes back into her bedroom.

Mama lies down in her bed and positions you so you're horizontal again. The change makes your eyes droop closed instantly, like suddenly your limbs are all weak and tired.

"That's a good girl, bubs," Mummy says, her voice low and soft as she runs her nails up and down your back softly," I think a little nap is all you need, huh? A nice nap to get this bug out of your system."

A small whine comes out of your mouth when she stops as she leans over to flick on the white noise machine. Her nails resume their gentle patterns though when she notices that you're fighting sleep again.

You drop off soon after, a combination of the soft hum of the machine, Katrina's gentle hands on your back and your general sickness.

She smiles softly at you, gently readjusting you so she can snap a picture to send to Clara. It's not often that she gets private time with you.

Harper's been enamoured with you the moment you were born, stuck to your side like a little shadow while Clara held you like you were surgically attached.

It was nice, sometimes, to just have you all to herself.

Even if you were a little grouchy.

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown Centennial Celebration

Book 3: Dance of the Hours

[1] [2] [3] [4]

Chapter 5: A Fleeting Dream

Vern tilts his head as he sniffles. The freezing rain starts to steadily fall. A few stray strands of hair start sticking to his face. Blinking to clear the tears in his eyes, he stares at Steel with a hesitant smile.

"A-are you umm... really here?" he tries to wipe some tears away.

Steel leans back on his hand, "yeah, uh.. my UM lets me go into other people's dreams."

"You can..." he can't help but lightly laugh even as dizziness sets in.

Smiling softly, Steel seems to relax a little. It briefly vanishes as Vern sways, "careful, and yeah? You okay? Aside from the obvious."

The sprite shakes his head. Hesitating for a few moments, he abruptly throws his arms him. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," Steel almost loses balance but manages to hold both their weights. After a moment, he tentatively returns the hug. The trees and scenery begin to drip like watercolors. His voice gets a little softer, "we can talk when you wake up, if you want. I don't always remember these dreams."

"I umm... would like that," Vern's grip on him tightens, "it's okay if you umm... forget. I'll try and um... remember for both of us."

"Re- uh.. thanks."

The small orb of light slips out of Steel's pocket. It gives a small shake as it floats in front of his face.

"Eh? Uh, thanks for helping earlier."

Vern shifts to see who he's talking to. His eyes widen as the little ball of light does a happy loop.

"What... umm.. who is this..?"

Steel shrugs, "it brought me to you."

The sprite absently reaches for it. Shrinking back for a moment, the orb seems to hesitate.

"It's okay..." he murmurs soothingly.

A few moments pass before the orb floats back. It slowly moves closer to nestle itself into his hand. Vern's breath catches. Bringing the light close to him, a tightness grips his chest. Tears sting his eyes, again. It feels as though sand is clogging his throat. "You... you're here?"

The orb wiggles before slipping away from his grip.

"W-wait," he tries to catch it. Zipping away, it seems to laugh. Vern watches it weave through the paint drips before vanishing. A sad smile crosses his features.

Their surroundings are getting fuzzier. The sprite tries wiping fresh tears away before turning back to Steel. "It's ummm... I'm waking up.. right?"

"Yeah.. I'll see you soon."

Chapter 6: To Feel What's Real

The faint scent of dusty herbs fills his senses. A warmth envelopes his entire body. It was as if he was back to being a small child again. Opening his eyes feels like prying a rusted door off its hinges.

He squints through the steam. Fuzzy silhouettes gradually come into focus as he slowly blinks. Registering Archie's familiar form supporting him, he slowly looks around. He notes Shirley pausing her spell with watery eyes.

Granting her a reassuring smile, she tentatively steps into the water. A slight splash catches his attention. Moving his body feels like attempting to push a mountain. The tension in his stone like muscles stiffly eases.

Steel shifts away from Castor. He slicks his hair back and out of his eyes while muttering his gratitude.

Songs:

Tell Me by Milet

Mercy Mirror by Within Temptation

@nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain This is the interactive part

Book 1: [1] [2] [3]

Book 2: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B] [6] [7]

Book 3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

[caoimhewrites]

Hallllo! I LOVE your missing series and was wondering if you could do a part three where tf141 + König finally find their daughter?

Missing Pt3

I wasn't planning on doing a part 3 for my Missing drabbles but you've motivated me to actually get around to doing it. Thanks for the request! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Pt1, Pt2

CW: mentions of kidnapping, canon typical violence (kinda), cute father/daughter reunions WC: 1.1k

A/N- I put the translations for König's section at the bottom of the post

Ghost stalked through the halls silently, sticking to the shadows. He feels like he's checked every inch of this stupid base looking for you, but still... nothing. A muffled cry makes him freeze in his tracks, heart in his throat. He pivoted, eyes narrowing as he followed the sound like a bloodhound. Down a flight of metal stairs, to a reinforced door. You're on the other side. He knows it. His boot slams into the door repeatedly, sending it flying off its hinges on the fifth hit. Your head snapped up at the sound, wild-eyed. You sat on the floor in the corner, shrinking away from him. Confusion and concern floods his system as he looks down at you for a moment. Oh... you don't recognize him, he realizes. Ghost’s heart cracked. He hadn't expected that. He should have really. He never wears the mask in front of you, too worried he'll frighten you. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, voice low, the gentle tone he always uses only with you. Your eyes flickered. That voice. You stared at the mask. Confused, searching. He throws himself to his knees in front of you, ignoring the sting. Without thinking, he rips the mask off, revealing his face to you. Your lips parted in a shaky gasp. “…Dad?” “Yeah, love. It’s me,” he murmurs as he cuts your bindings, hands trembling. “I’ve got you now.” He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It's a little too tight but you don't care.

König was a terrifying sight in any normal circumstance, but now? He could make the toughest of men crumble into dust out of pure terror. He's been searching for three weeks to bring you home and he's finally within arms reach. You stared at the towering figure blocking the doorway. Black combat gear and that hood casting shadows over his face. You feel your entire body shake as you stare up at him with eyes so wide you swear they might pop out. The horrified scream you let out breaks his heart. Never once had you reacted like this to him, he doesn't understand it. “Geh weg von mir!" you shriek at the top of your lungs, unable to recognize your father in all his gear and frightening hood. He knelt slowly, setting his rifle aside, palms open in front of him. “Es ist okay,” he said gently, his voice impossibly soft. “Ich werde dir nicht weh tun.” You shook your head, unsure. “Wer... Wer bist du?” He slowly pulls the hood up, careful to not scare you away, the last thing he wants to do is scare you more than he already has. "Papa?" You whisper, almost in disbelief. “Ich dachte-” your voice cracked. “Ich dachte, du kommst nicht” He cups your face in his large hands and pulls you close, “Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen,” he whispered into your hair as he pulls you up into his arms, his embrace crushing. “Nicht für eine Sekunde." After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His gloved hand brushed a bit of dirt from your cheek. “Dir ist kalt,” he said softly. “Lass uns dich hier rausbringen”

Price had been searching for three weeks. Twenty-one days of dead ends, sleepless nights, and silence on the other end of the line. He calls you every night even though he knows your phone is sitting in evidence somewhere. Ghost's voice crackles in his ear from his comms but he doesn't listen. He was so close just minutes ago, he SAW them there. He's had to resort to traveling farther into the shipping yard, towards the old rundown building he had seen your captors in through the window. He's crouched behind a large stack of crates when he hears sniffling no more than 30 feet away. It's you. He knows it. He's heard that sniffling more times than he can count, always offering you tea and gentle hugs as comfort. "Love," he whispers as he moves closer to the source of your sniffles. "Love, you over here?" He squints to get a better look through the crates. He sees your eyes peek out at him. "Dad?" Your eyes widen in shock, not expecting to see him in your escape attempt. "It's me, Love. I'm here," He whispers as he pushes the crates aside, taking your hand in his and kissing your forehead. "How- What-" You stammer clumsily, still in shock at seeing him. You had expected to run through the wilderness for a few days, find a phone and call him, but this is much more of a relief.

Gaz was injured. Not terribly but enough to make his search painful and tiring. He had found you in the basement of the enemy's safe house, peeking out at him, eyes watery and wide. The pain in his side didn’t stop him from crossing the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. He gathered you into his arms without hesitation, heart pounding with relief and lingering anxiety. It didn’t stop him from carrying you out, either. Even as adrenaline faded and every muscle in his body protested, he held you tight, kept his pace steady as he made it to the extraction point. He didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch. Not once. The chopper blades whipped cold air around them, slicing through the autumn night. You were still wearing the same clothes from weeks ago. Fine for mid-September, but the October chill bit at your skin cruelly. He even ignored the pain as he bundled you up in his jacket. He rubbed at your arms in an attempt to warm you quicker. “You’re alright now,” he said softly, lips close to your temple so you could hear him over the noise. “I’ve got you. We're going home."

Soap's breath came heavy, boots sinking into sand as he approached the structure. His intel had better be right this time. He's had too many false leads and dead ends. He can't be wrong this time. He kicked the door in with one swift motion. Inside, the heat didn’t let up. His eyes swept the dim interior, rifle up and ready. Then he hears it. A whimper, soft and muffled. Soap’s heart jumped and stuttered in his chest. He whipped his head around, his eyes finding yours as you hid behind a few boxes. "Dad? You... You're here." Your voice cracked as you spoke. It had been several weeks and you were starting to think he might not be able to find you all the way out here. Your face is dirt smeared and sweaty as he quickly throws himself towards you, wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your cheek gently, not caring about the grime, "I'm here, Love. I'll always be here." You tighten your arms around him impossibly tighter. He returns the gesture, taking a moment to appreciate it. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

geh weg von mir - get away from me Es ist okay - It's okay Ich werde dir nicht weh tun - I won't hurt you Wer bist du - Who are you Ich dachte, du kommst nicht - I thought you weren't coming Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen - I never stopped searching Nicht für eine Sekunde - Not for a second Dir ist kalt - You're cold Lass uns dich hier rausbringen - Lets get you out of here

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[buckyalpine]

Bucky uses safe word

I was feeling angstyyyyy 

Warnings: Use of safe word, sub space, overstimulation, slight non-verbal Bucky, aftercare, 

“I can take it” Bucky nodded, sucking in a breath when he heard the clink the cuff, pushing aside his anxieties, instead focusing on your pretty, naked body. “I’m ready”  

This wasn’t particularly new to Bucky; letting you take control while you toyed with his body, pulling pleasure from him while you also pleasured yourself. He loved giving himself to you, taking everything you’d give him, the satisfied, lust filled dazed look on your face fulfilling him in a way he couldn’t explain. 

It started with just letting you riding him on top to him now allowing you to push his body further and further, testing his limits. 

He loved it. 

The feel of your hands closing around his neck.

The feel of your nails scratching his skin. 

The feel of your palms striking his flushed cheek. 

The feel of pleasure shooting through his body, just to be stopped right before his release.

It was a delicious, painful torture. 

Maybe because he felt he deserved it. Pain was all he knew. It felt right. 

Even when he wasn’t ready for it.

Like right now. 

The usual prickles of pleasure he’d feel from your nails when you gripped onto his shoulders to ride him felt too hot. His body ached, mind too hazy to focus on the way you bounced up and down on his length, instead his throat closing in on itself, feeling trapped as the restraints dug into his wrists.

He knew he was safe with you, that no one could hurt him, that he had full control to stop everything when he wanted. Yet, he was slipping further and further into a deep space where he couldn’t speak for himself, where he had to be silent and just take what was given to him. He tried so hard to be good, to let you satisfy yourself on him, to ignore the pain of overstimulation between his legs, to ignore the way he was struggling to breathe, his chest starting to heave with panic. He should’ve listened to the voice that screamed at him to be honest about how he felt. 

That tonight, he needed soft loving and cuddles, that he just wanted you to hold and take care of him. Hot tears welled in his lash line, no longer able to hold it together, forcing the word out as best as he could, he didn’t want to disappoint you but he was drowning. 

“R-red” 

You froze hearing the tiny whimper, immediately stopping your movements and reaching over to release the cuffs, setting them out of view. 

“It’s okay sweet boy, its okay” You cooed, carefully slipping off, not wanting to overstimulate Bucky further, your hands softly massaging his wrists. He curled up in on himself, shame and guilt clouding his mind, slipping deeper into subspace, unable to swim to the surface. 

“So-sorry” He hiccupped, tears streaming down his face, a part of him thinking he deserved punishment again, having stopped you when he could have just sucked it up for a moment longer. “m’s-sorry” 

“No baby, don’t. Can I touch you?” He gave you a small nod, letting you cup his cheek, gently guiding him to look at you while he tried to hide his face into the pillow, refusing to look at you, “Look at me Jamie” You wiped the tears that continued to fall, pulling him to your chest while he sniffled, burying his face between your breasts. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you used your safe word bub, m’so proud of you” You could feel some of the tension ease from his shoulders though only getting a whimper from him as a response. You continued to kiss his forehead, rubbing soothing circles down his spine, while he slowly started to regulate his breathing, following the rise and fall of your chest. “So proud of you baby boy” 

He looked at you with wide eyes when you shift from under him, clinging onto you tighter, unable to speak but his face telling you he didn’t want you to go anywhere. 

“I’m going to clean you up baby, not going anywhere” You pecked his forehead before grabbing a warm wash cloth and soothing lotion, the one with a lavender scent that he found calming. Your heart broke at the way his body flinched, as if he was anticipating a painful strike, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the blow. 

“I won’t hurt you baby, you’re safe” You held back your own tears, cleaning his sweat slicked body, kissing away the sore areas before carefully moving lower. “Shhh, almost done, you’re doing so good for me bub” You gently wiped his thighs, using only a feather light touch when you got closer to where he was most sensitive, rubbing up and down his tensed muscles to ground him. He whined at the feeling of you brushing over his sensitive cock, squeezing his thighs together. 

“M’sorry baby, just a little bit more” you cooed, dabbing away your sticky mixed arousal before tossing away the cloth. “I’m going to get you some water and take care of you, okay?” 

Bucky nodded, reluctantly letting you go, trembling slightly when you pulled up the covers to tuck him in. You found your robe, slipping it on while you quickly went to the kitchen to get some juice and snacks, noting he seemed to prefer sweet things when he got like this. You grabbed his favorite peanut butter cups and some strawberries, cutting them up into smaller bite sized pieces before bringing them up. 

He was happy to curl into your lap, letting you feed him between taking sips of water, toying with the corner of the blanket, a nervous habit he had when he was unsure of how to communicate. 

“How are you feeling baby, do you want to tell me what happened?” You tested the waters, still hugging his body to yours, letting him take his time while he peered up at you through his dark lashes. 

“Just wanted cuddles today” He managed to get out, still guilty over having used the safe word, “Sorry-

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips, before letting him rest his head into the crook of your neck. “Don’t, don’t apologize for using it, I’m glad you did, okay? You were so good baby boy, do you still want cuddles?” You checked on him to be sure, squealing when he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his leg hitched over your body, feeling especially needy for you to hold him.

“Still wan’ cuddles” he whispered, closing his eyes as you pulled up the covers, protecting him in a safe cocoon of warmth. 

“You can always tell me if you just want cuddles baby” You ran your fingers through his hair, letting him snuggle further against your chest, “Always”

[hoonigiris]

— bye bye my blue

y. jungwon x f!reader

wc: 2.3k genre: hurt/comfort, angst content: reader is older than jungwon (reader is called noona), insecurities, relationship growing pains and they're both horrible at communication. but they're growing!! and they're growing together :') misc. notes: title inspired by bye bye my blue by baek yerin :)part one of my jungwon noona anthology series, birds of a feather.

on a tuesday afternoon, jungwon finds you on the bathroom floor.

somehow, he knows something is wrong before he sees it, a weird feeling twisting in his gut the moment he opens the door to your apartment. the shades are still drawn, there’s a half-eaten bowl of food still sitting on the counter, and, most importantly, you’re not there. you’re not anywhere—not on the couch, not in your room, not in the kitchen. the door shuts behind him, a disturbance in the air.

it’s too quiet.

jungwon stops at the doorway, slipping off one shoe at a time. and then, carefully, he opens his mouth. “noona?”

it sits in the open air for a moment, waiting, and then he tries again, the feeling in his gut creeping up his throat. “noona, are you here?”

he steps further into your apartment, about to call your name one more time, until something rustles in the bathroom. jungwon stops, ears straining. a beat of silence. he steps forward, avoiding the single creaky wooden panel three feet from the door, socked feet practically sliding across the floor to avoid any unnecessary noise, until he hears it again.

a small sniffle, the ghost of a shaky breath echoing in the bathroom and trickling out from underneath the door. jungwon’s bag immediately drops from his shoulders. 

you’re hurt, his head starts blaring.

his right foot moves first. and then his left. and before he knows it, he’s stumbling through the hallway towards the bathroom on instinct alone. jungwon’s hip rams into the edge of the corner table placed at the beginning of the hallway, a loud bang as it slams in the wall behind it. he registers it distantly, the noise, the burst of pain that shoots into the bone, but it doesn’t matter. none of it does, not when you’re holed up in the bathroom, all alone.

his hand flies to the doorknob, heart in the pit of his stomach—and he stops.

the voice in his head is still screaming at him to hurry, you’rehurtyou’rehurtyou’rehurt—but the metal lies cool against the heat of his palm, and jungwon takes a deep, shaky breath. he forces his panic to dilute into something more palpable, more manageable, to where he can swallow it down from the back of his throat to his chest and think.

he can’t force his way in, not if you didn’t want him to. whatever hurt he feels at that thought, jungwon shoves aside in favor of leaning his forehead against the wood, one hand clutched at the doorknob, the other raising slowly in a closed fist.

jungwon knocks once, then twice. he calls your name tentatively again, fragile as his lips form around the word. he hopes it’s enough to pass through the door, the walls you’ve yet to let down, the ones you still haven’t let him walk through.

he can’t tell if the silence that follows after is contemplation or guilt or embarrassment, but even so, he knocks again anyway. “noona, are you there?” please. “can i come in?” please, just let me in.

and again, nothing. jungwon tries to discern the silence, pressing his ear flush to the door trying to pick up any sign that you were okay, but it’s hard to tell when all he can hear is the thumping in his own chest, the blood pounding in his ears.

there’s a sort of shame that ripples in jungwon, stifling in his chest.

the gap between you and him is something he rarely forgets, with the way you shower him in adoration and praise him until his cheeks flush cherub-like. stubbornly, he wants to be more, but all jungwon has done is wait. he makes himself patient and he waits for the moment where you will finally let him see anything deeper than the smile you give him every day, where you stop seeing him as the younger boyfriend and someone to take care of and instead see him as someone you can rely on instead, where you tell him your thoughts and worries and peel back your layers and trust that jungwon will handle your rawest form with care.

he’d thought that maybe if he proved that he was good enough, capable enough, then you’d eventually let him in. but jungwon had convinced himself of that months ago, and now it’s come to this. you, locked in your bathroom and crying alone, and him, outside and still waiting.

(maybe the problem really is him. maybe even after all this time, he still isn’t the man you need him to be. perhaps you don’t really need him at all.)

“noona,” jungwon tries again, quietly, slumped against the wood. “please.” even if you didn’t need him, he needs you, still. “just let me know if you’re okay.”

something shifts, at that. the rustling of clothes on the other side of the door, a shaky exhale. jungwon would have been satisfied with that, really, his hand slipping from the doorknob and the offer to just go back home ready to leave from his lips along with his heart placed bleeding at the doorway. but instead:

“you can come in.” it’s so quiet it’s almost a whisper, the echo of the bathroom muffled through the door, but it’s the clearest thing jungwon has heard all day.

a few seconds pass, and the door creaks open, light spilling out into the hallway. a lump immediately forms in jungwon’s throat.

sat in the middle of the bathroom floor, a crumpled white button-up shirt between your hands, you look like a mess. red-rimmed and puffy-eyed, you stare up at him with a distinct quiver in your lip, like the mere sight of him sent your hastily reconstructed sand castle walls crumbling again. but you gather yourself again quickly, patting down any loose pieces of sand into form and pulling your lips into a sheepish smile.

“hi, wonie,” you greet, embarrassment peeking through. your cheeks are still wet, shining in the light when you tilt your head up at him. “you’re back early.”

jungwon used to think the worst thing he’d have to overcome was never being able to see any version of you but the perfectly curated mask you try to show him, but he thinks this is worse. to finally see you like this, and to have you look back at him as if you’d been caught, like being vulnerable was akin to some wrongdoing, like you’d been spotted with your hand in the cookie jar and he was the uninvited witness.

“ahh…” you breathe out, laughing. “i guess there’s no point in hiding it now.” there’s a certain look of guilt in your smile when you look at him that makes jungwon’s gut twist. “sorry you had to see me like this.”

“that’s not—” jungwon tries, but whatever that was supposed to come out next lodges in his throat, somewhere between breath and speech. “don’t—don’t apologize.”

your smile falters a little, hands falling into your lap. another ‘sorry’ gets lost between the two of you, mute at his admonition.

it feels a bit like a scolding, with how you avert your eyes from him and stare at the ground, and jungwon feels even more at a loss. he looks at you and then the shirt and then back at you again, running over anything he could possibly say to soothe over the awkward silence. and then, finally, “what happened?”

jungwon barely hears himself say it, the whisper so faint he’s not sure he even voiced it at all. you blink, eyes wet. your lip catches between your teeth deliberating, before you exhale.

“it’s okay,” you shake your head. you smile at him again, half-hearted and consoling. “it was stupid, don’t worry about it.”

your smile falls the second you see the look in his eyes, the hurt he can’t control that displays clear on his face. jungwon reels it in quickly, but you try to mend the wound before it can fester further.

“i spilled my coffee on my shirt,” you confess, holding up the stain. “i, um… i couldn’t get it out.” you look down at it again, and then back up at him, sheepish. “see, i told you it was stupid.”

there’s more to it, jungwon knows there is. a stain on some shirt of yours wouldn’t warrant breaking down into tears and sobbing in the bathroom; there was something you weren’t telling him, something you were deliberately hiding from him.

the last thing he ever wants to do is pressure you into divulging what you’re not ready to reveal, but how could he let it go now? how could he see you like this with his own eyes and turn away like he saw nothing at all?

“what happened?” he repeats, gently.

the question presses into you further, and you shake your head softly. “i told you—”

“do you trust me?” he interrupts, still quiet. do you trust me enough to lay yourself bare? do you trust me enough to know that you could let yourself crumble and i would still be there to catch you? do you trust me enough to take care of you?

your eyes dart to him immediately, panic splayed on your face. it’s like you can sense something falling apart, you or him or both, together, but you immediately try to patch it together again. maybe it was just in your nature. “what? of course i—i love you. i love you so much, you know that.”

your bottom lip stiffens as soon as the confession sounds, the sudden, unfiltered vulnerability resulting in you hiding the way your lip wobbles as you avert your gaze away, blinking away glassy eyes. you’re holding back your tears, again. 

jungwon swallows hard.

(distantly, he wonders if this is all he is to you, someone you have to hold back for.

love and trust aren’t the same thing, and equating the two isn’t much of an assurance when something ugly and resentful has been curling in his chest ever since he stepped foot into your apartment; not at you, but at himself.

must you carry the weight of him along with everything else? is this all he is good for? to only see you in your good moments and be kept in the dark as you handle everything all by yourself in the bad?)

but you sniffle, an instinctive jerk of the body you can’t hide, and he pushes the ugly, resentful thing in his chest aside. jungwon steps forward, bit by bit. he can wallow in his failings another time—all that matters right now is you. 

“what can i do?” he asks, finally, open-eyed and pleading.

a part of him wonders if he can even do anything, if you even want him to do anything for you, or if he’ll be thrown back into his regular pattern of waiting. waiting for you to come to him, waiting to be let in again as you cast him out yet again to deal with everything on your own. 

he can’t demand anything of you, but right now, he wishes you would just lean on him, if only a little; he wishes you would ask him for something, anything. he wishes you would want to.

jungwon can’t do anything you don’t ask him too. it haunts him, this constant fear of being a burden to you, to be helpless even when he’s trying. his attempts are nothing but clumsy and stumbling, and it wouldn’t be anything but more trouble on your plate if he extends his hand and you don’t need it, you don’t want it. you'd both be left with something lingering in empty space with no one to claim it.

but perhaps his desperation to not be helpless gets to you too, because you take a shaky breath, clutching the shirt tighter between your fingers. and then, quietly: “can you just hold me? please?”

jungwon moves forward without a sound, kneeling down to the floor and taking you in his arms. the shirt falls down into your lap as you wrap your arms around him and hold yourself tight to his chest. neither of you say anything—perhaps you don’t know how to say it. or maybe, there’s nothing else that needs to be said, not at this moment.

you grab onto him like a lifeline, gasping out the beginning of sobs that threaten to rip out from your chest again, and jungwon sits there, letting you. he doesn’t need an apology, he doesn’t need an explanation. some would call it selfish, maybe, to have you taking what you please when you find it suitable, but the selfish you is what jungwon has been searching for this whole time.

jungwon wants you to be selfish of him. he wants you to want him for yourself, even if it’s just to be there with you. he'll let you take as much as you need from him, because it isn’t taking if he’s giving it to you.

later, after the tears have all dried, you will tell him the truth. at least, the parts of it you can properly articulate. how the coffee stain was the last straw of a shitty day in a shittier week, how you didn’t want to trouble him by complaining about something you hoped would soon pass, how you never dropped any mention of having a hard time to him because when you were together, everything else didn’t really matter that much anymore.

it wasn’t a matter of trust. just love.

but for now, on a tuesday afternoon on the bathroom floor, you hold him tight as you cry, and you let him hold you back.