#but after she wakes up she has them sometimes open and sometimes closed

[glass-clown]

[ID: Three images of Falin Touden from Dungeon Meshi.

The first image is presumably from the Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible. In the top left corner is a fancy border with big, bold text in it that says "3 | Sight". Below to the left has smaller text that says, "Falin has been nearsighted since she was very young, and she has a habit of squinting at things to see them. As an aside, being turned into a chimera has improved her eyesight, and that habit seems to have corrected itself." To the right is a picture from the manga showing a younger looking Falin with her eyes closed and someone off screen pushing her bangs back to lay on her head.

The second and third images are also from the manga of different shots of Falin with her eyes wide open. / END OF ID]

EXCUSE ME

FALIN KEEPS HER EYES CLOSED BECAUSE SHES NEARSIGHTED BUT WHEN SHE BECOMES A CHIMERA SHE OPENS HER EYES

[klemen-tine]

No Prince Charming

(Batfam x Mom!Reader)

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I really like your work.

I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.

Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.

Sorry if it's too much.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.

It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed. 

Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders. 

A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office. 

“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’ 

Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one. 

But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences. 

“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her. 

As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him. 

Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.  

Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too.  Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact. 

Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look. 

She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is. 

“I’m sorry Richard.” 

“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up. 

In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on. 

Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother. 

“Bruce please.” 

“I am busy.” 

“I know but Bruce, this is my–” 

“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends. 

When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.” 

Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own. 

She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne. 

“Honey, are you happy?” 

“Of course Mama.” 

“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.” 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3. 

She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign. 

For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door. 

The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion. 

“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne. 

“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.” 

“And the kids?” 

“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her. 

It's good to see some of that coming back. 

Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?” 

“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull. 

When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him. 

“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.” 

“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him. 

Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in. 

“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.” 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood. 

He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid. 

Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her. 

He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around. 

Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too. 

“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.” 

Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place. 

Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone. 

He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”

“Holy shit.” 

“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together. 

Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes. 

“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes. 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room. 

Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.” 

Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings. 

Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans. 

Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight. 

“Fucking hell.” 

++++

Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool. 

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.

Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign. 

It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids. 

“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other. 

 “Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?” 

“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something. 

“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t. 

He knows this. She knows this. 

And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others. 

It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine. 

He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.

“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears. 

“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine. 

Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle. 

“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen. 

Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second. 

A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.�� They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof. 

So, of course they have had sex. 

Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex. 

Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon. 

Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it. 

It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return. 

Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human. 

Batman was never Prince Charming.

_________________________________________________________

Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.

@problematicreblogger

@kurai-hono-blog

@rosecentury

[julymusings]

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight, you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—” 

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear what you're not saying. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which is decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but rather several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise which covers his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth. 

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him? 

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. ��Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

[jymwahuwu]

Inspired by @hunnieknight art 🐾💖 quickly wrote something

cw: hybirds AU, puppy hybrid! reader and puppy hybrid! Capitano, mating mentioned but no detailed description

Morning is the moment you wake up smelling the sunny-side-up egg. You lie on the comfortable bed, your hands gently clenched into fists, your consciousness is blurry, but…it's the fragrance. You climbed out of bed and rushed to Mavuika's position with excitement. While she was frying eggs, she rubbed your ears and patted your head. "You can sleep a little longer," you responded by rubbing your cheek against her leg, giggling.

Hmm… there's an unusual smell in the air… what's that?

You searched the carpet and looked toward the window. There was one of its kind covered in a black mask - it was a large dog. His black ears and tail are imposing, and his chest and arms are muscular. Just by looking at it, you can tell that he is much stronger than you. Oops! He noticed you.

Mavuika glanced there casually. Isn't he much bigger than her favorite puppy? The next door neighbor is Tsaritsa from Snezhnaya. She turned down Venti���s poetry sharing party, declined Ei’s meditation course, and had no interest in Focalors’ aquarium. Among the six neighbors in the community, she lived a solitary and unique life. Oh, now she knew she had a loyal companion. She inevitably became wary, like a mother guarding against her daughter being asked out by a man.

"I don't trust that dog, don't go the fence." she ordered. "Be a good puppy."

Capitano stares at you more intently.

You tilt your head to look at her innocently. What is she talking about?

Mavuika doesn't stay at home all the time! She needs to work in the gym during the day. You whimpered and bit the edge of her dress, "Don't go out…" She sighed, coaxing you and promising to bring you snacks when she got home. You cheered and nodded, promising to look after the house and be a good puppy. You run and play with a ball in the living room and chat with your puppy friends on the Internet.

Uh, someone knocked on the window! You arched your back in fear, alert. Hey, he was the neighbor that day…you asked him what happened. Capitano asks if he can play with you. He has his family at home but they are all weird, especially the little fox named Dottore. You agreed, opened the window, and invited him into your home. You chase each other, run in circles, play with tails and ears, and watch TV shows. The two of you also swam and walked around the neighborhood together when Mavuika wasn't home.

One day, Capitano solemnly asks you if he can mate with you. You shyly waggled your tail and agreed. He gets close to you, bites your back gently, and rides on you…

And then…your belly swells. Mavuika took you to the hospital and the doctor said you were pregnant. You watched nervously from behind the door as Mavuika "interrogated" Capitano. You said you'd be fine. Capitano sent more gifts. He is there for you, even though sometimes it is necessary to watch you from the window.

The babies are born. You know what Capitano originally looked like now. Most of them are not like you, but like papa. He is still affectionate, holding your cheek and kissing you 🐾💌

[fic-girlie]

Everywhere With You

!made by request! Well i had one where the reader has tickets to fleetwood mac for pedros bday and she surprises him with it cause she knows hes a big fan (so is she) and they go either the 2 of them or with friends and family and at the concert they are really close together there and he keeps hugging her and holding her and tells her its ths best bday gift ever and later they go celebrate at a bar or dinner and the end with smut?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You surprise Pedro with Fleetwood Mac concert tickets for his birthday. After a night filled with music and emotion, you return home, where the chemistry between you intensifies.

Warnings: 18+ explicit, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fluff, established relationship (If I left out something, tell me!)

Part 2: Here with You

The sun had just started to stretch across the hardwood floors when you slid quietly out of bed.

Pedro didn’t stir as you moved, only shifted slightly beneath the covers and let out a soft, content sigh. You paused for a second, watching him. There was something holy about the way he slept—arms loose, lashes long against his cheeks, the faintest crease between his brows like he was dreaming about something serious. His hair was a tousled halo against the pillow, and one strong leg had kicked out from underneath the blanket sometime during the night.

You smiled to yourself and padded into the kitchen barefoot, the chill of the morning tile meeting your toes. Everything had to be perfect. The little things mattered—especially to a man like Pedro. He never said so outright, but you saw it: the way he softened when you remembered how he took his coffee, the way his arms tightened around you when you tucked a note into his jean pocket before he left for a shoot. Thoughtfulness made him unravel.

And today wasn’t just any day.

You hummed a bit of Everywhere under your breath as you got to work—eggs with soft yolk, toast spread with the raspberry jam from the little farmers’ market he loved, thick-cut bacon fried just enough to curl at the edges. His favourite mug sat waiting for him, filled with black coffee. Everything smelled warm, familiar. Like the two of you.

The envelope was already tucked beneath the corner of the napkin on the tray. Just two slim pieces of paper inside but holding something so much bigger. You had kept them hidden for months, waiting for this. And now it was time.

You nudged open the bedroom door with your hip, tray balanced in your hands, the smell of breakfast following you in.

Pedro was still there in the same position, only now one hand had drifted up to rest over his chest, fingers curling slightly. His mouth parted at the scent and his brow twitched—just barely—but he didn’t wake up.

So you tiptoed to the edge of the bed and whispered, “Pedro…”

A low, sleepy groan rolled out of his chest like thunder in the distance. “Mmm?”

“Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

He stirred, face turning into the pillow before he peeked out at you through one barely open eye. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re too sweet to me, hermosa.”

You set the tray down on the nightstand and leaned in, brushing your lips over his forehead, then the tip of his nose. “It’s your birthday. That means you get spoiled.”

Pedro blinked up at you, still groggy, still gorgeous in that half-woken way that made your heart flutter. “That smells like bacon.”

“It is bacon. Crispy, just how you like it. There are eggs and jam toast too. And coffee. I even made it extra hot since you like to forget about it until it’s cold.”

He let out a raspy laugh and finally pushed himself up to sit, groaning softly as the sheet slid down his bare chest. Your eyes followed the movement—broad shoulders, warm tan skin, the sparse trail of hair down his stomach disappearing into the waistband of the boxers you’d half torn off last night.

He caught you staring and smirked, voice still thick with sleep. “Enjoying the view?”

You lifted your brows, handing him the coffee. “Only the birthday boy gets that kind of attention.”

“Oh, so I’m in luck.”

He sipped the coffee and groaned again—this time in pleasure. “You really are trying to kill me with kindness.”

“Nope,” you said, climbing back onto the bed and settling beside him. “I’m just soft for you.”

Pedro gave you a crooked little smile, then leaned in and kissed the side of your head. You felt it through your whole body.

As he started in on the eggs, you nestled into his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder, breathing in his warmth, the scent of skin and sleep and that little bit of cologne that lingered from the night before.

“Don’t forget the envelope,” you said casually, after he’d finished the last bite.

“What envelope?”

You gestured at the napkin.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then leaned over to pick it up. “You got me a card?”

“I got you more than a card.”

Pedro peeled the flap open slowly, the pulled out the two tickets. You watched as the words registered.

Fleetwood Mac. Tour concert. Tonight. 7:00 PM. And two seats—good seats. Close to the stage. Close enough to feel the reverb in your bones.

His entire body went still. He read the top line twice, three times, then looked at you in stunned silence.

“No…” His voice cracked. “You didn’t.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “We’re going tonight.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure he was breathing. He just stared at the tickets like they were some ancient artifact. Then, all at once, he broke into a grin that could have lit up the whole damn room.

“You’re joking,” he whispered.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You go us Fleetwood Mac tickets?”

“Yes.”

“For tonight?”

“Yes.”

He let out a half-sob, half-laugh and dropped the envelope on the bed as he surged forward and kissed you—mouth hot and open and smiling into yours, his hands sliding into your hair as he cradled your face.

You laughed into the kiss as he pulled you into his lap, practically crushing you to him, arms wrapped tightly around your back.

“I love you,” he whispered, over and over, between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You cupped his cheeks, ran your thumbs gently under his eyes, and said, “I wanted to give you something you’d never forget.”

“This is…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve wanted to see them since I was a teen. My siblings and I used to sneak into the living room late at night to watch those old concert videos on VHS.”

“I remember,” you said softly, resting your forehead to his. “That’s why I knew.”

Pedro’s eyes glassed over, and he let out a soft, shaky breath.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” he said, and laughed through it. “Jesus.”

“They’re probably going to play Landslide,” you murmured. “So you’re definitely going to cry.”

He gave a helpless smile, eyes wet, and pulled you into a slower, deeper kiss. This one lingered. His hands slid along your spine, tracing up under the hem of your sleep shirt, warm palms smoothing over your bare back.

When he pulled away, his voice had dropped low and husky. “I don’t even care what else happens today. This… this is already the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m not done yet.”

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged playfully. “There’s more.”

Pedro stared at you like you’d hung the stars yourself. “More?”

“Dinner. After the concert. Late reservation at your favourite place—you know, the one with the garlic bread you love so much it makes you emotional?”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, mujer. You really thought of everything.”

“I wanted you to feel loved,” you whispered.

He looked up at you again, softer now. Like you were something precious he didn’t know how to hold gently enough.

“I feel it,” he said. “Every second I’m with you.”

You stayed curled in his lap for a long while, just breathing together, kisses pressed to bare shoulders, hands tangled, the envelope resting on the covers beside you. Pedro held you like he was afraid he might wake up and find it was all a dream.

Pedro had barely stopped smiling since you gave him the concert tickets.

His face was still flushed with that golden kind of happiness—the kind that shimmered just beneath the surface, softening his eyes and curving his mouth even when he wasn’t speaking. The scent of his coffee, mingled with your shampoo and the lingering crispness of breakfast hung in the air between you.

You tilted your head, watching his profile. The delicate creases around his eyes. The flutter of his lashes as he looked down at the concert tickets again, rereading the seat details as if he needed to be sure it was real.

“I can’t believe we’re seeing Fleetwood Mac and after that we go to my favourite place,” he murmured.

You smiled gently, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “That’s still not all.”

He blinked, turning his head slightly to look at you, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

“There’s one more part to your birthday gift,” you said softly, and felt your heartbeat begin to pick up. “A surprise for tomorrow.”

Pedro tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in that playfully suspicious way he always did when he was trying to read you. “Okay… should I be nervous?”

“Not nervous,” you said, cupping his jaw and smoothing your thumb over the hinge of it. “Just… open.”

He laughed under his breath, but the sound was quieter now. More curious. “Alright. I’m open.”

You exhaled slowly, threading your fingers through his and holding them between both of yours. You wanted him to feel the warmth of your hands, the steadiness of your grip. You wanted him to feel grounded. Safe.

“I’ve been working on this for a few weeks now,” you began, your voice low and steady. “Coordinating flight times, making sure it would all line up. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure it was happening.”

Pedro’s brow furrowed faintly, lips parting. He sat up a little straighter, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know how much you miss them,” you went on, heart beginning to flutter with the weight of it. “How much you miss home—even when you don’t say it. I see it when you get off the phone with your sisters. I see it in the way your voice gets quiet when you talk about the little pranks you pulled on your brother when you were younger. I see it when you stare at photos a little too long.”

Pedro’s eyes were fixed on you now. Still and focused, the way he always looked at you when something touched deep.

You swallowed. “So… tomorrow morning, your family’s flying in. All of them. They’ll be here for a couple of days.”

His breath caught. You felt it—sharp and sudden.

“They're staying at a hotel nearby,” you said softly. “But they're coming here first. For breakfast. Pajamas and cafecito and pan dulce if I can find it in time. I told them you'd want it casual. Comfortable. Just... family.”

He didn't speak. Not right away.

He just stared at you, jaw slack, lips parted in silent shock. His hands went still in yours.

You reached for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “Pedro—”

His eyes welled instantly.

The shift was like sunlight behind clouds—barely a flicker, but it changed everything. The glimmer of tears turned his warm brown gaze into something luminous. He swallowed hard, but the emotions hit him before he could hide them, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

You leaned in and kissed it away.

“I couldn't stand the thought of you spending another birthday missing them,” you whispered against his skin. “So I brought them to you.”

Pedro laughed—wet, shaky, disbelieving. He covered his face with one hand, dragging it down slowly as more tears slipped free.

“I—” He shook his head. “I don't even know what to say. You... You did that for me?”

“I'd do it a thousand times,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “You're the most generous, selfless man I've ever known. You give so much of yourself to everyone. You deserve to be surrounded by people who love you. Not just through a screen. Not just in messages.”

He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you again, eyes raw, lips trembling with the effort to keep from falling apart.

“I missed them so much,” he whispered, and your heart cracked open a little wider.

“I know, honey, “you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you fully into his chest, his body trembling just slightly with the quiet force of his emotions. You held him close, letting him breathe through it, your fingers curling into his curls at the nape of his neck, grounding him.

He didn't speak for a while. He just held you. Like you were the only thing in the world that made him feel real.

Eventually, he murmured, “You love me so much it hurts.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Always.”

“Tomorrow, when your siblings ring the bell, I want to see that smile again. The one you haven't shown since the last time you were home.”

Pedro leaned in and kissed you—slow and aching, the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could.

And when he finally pulled back, his voice was quiet but certain. “Yeah. This is definitely the best birthday I've ever had.”

——

By the time the sun began to slip behind the edge of the city skyline, the sky had turned that dusky watercolour blend of blush and indigo, like something painted just for the evening. The venue buzzed around you, a living pulse of conversation, laughter, anticipation—but all Pedro could feel was your hand in his.

His fingers were threaded tightly with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand like he couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop reminding himself you were real and this was really happening.

“Have I told you I love you for this?” he murmured as you handed your tickets to the usher.

You glanced up at him with a smile that made his chest squeeze. “Only about six times since we left the house. At home you said it about five.”

He gave a soft, breathy laugh, then leaned down to kiss your temple. “Good. I’m not done.”

The usher led you toward the lower rows, the lights dimming gently overhead as the stage came into view—wide, simple, elegant, with vintage amps glowing under strands of overhead lights. Pedro slowed as you reached your seats, letting the moment sink into him, letting the reality bloom fully in his chest.

Front section. Dead centre. Nothing between you and the stage but the warm summer air and a few rows of swaying bodies.

He turned to you and took a step closer. “These seats are—damn, cariño. You weren’t playing around.”

“I wanted it to be perfect,” you said, fingers brushing his arm. “I wanted you to feel it. The music. The moment. All of it.”

He didn’t speak for a second. His face softened, lips parting, eyes flicking over your features like he was memorizing you. Then he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you—right there, in the slow-humming twilight, with the chatter of strangers around you and the smell of warm popcorn in the breeze.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Thank you for loving me like this.”

You reached up and rested your palms over his wrists. “Always.”

The lights dimmed further. The crowd began to rise and stir, voices lifting in a low wave of anticipation. Pedro kept you close, his arm snug around your waist now, anchoring you beside him. When the band took the stage and that first familiar chord rang out—low, electric, rich with history—Pedro inhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

His body went still, reverent. And then he laughed, quiet and breathless, a sound you felt more than heard.

“God,” he murmured. “This song. I swear it’s tattooed on my ribs.”

You turned your head, smiling against the shell of his ear. “Let it break you a little.”

He looked at you with that melted, love-struck expression he wore only in the softest moments, and nodded. “You first.”

The music swelled, and suddenly, you were surrounded—guitar harmonies stretching out across the night like silk, Stevie’s voice a haunting, familiar echo that felt like home and heartbreak all at once.

Pedro’s arm tightened around you. His other hand slipped down to your thigh, warm and steady. He didn’t just listen—he felt every note, every beat, like the songs lived inside him.

“I played this track,” he said near your ear, during The Chain, “every time I drove through the outskirts of New York. Windows down. Hair a mess. Swore I was in a movie.”

You grinned. “You are in a movie.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your cheek. “Then you’re my favourite scene.”

As the night wore on, he couldn’t stop touching you.

Sometimes it was subtle—his fingertips grazing the inside of your wrist, his palm resting low on your spine. Other times it was more obvious: pulling you against him during Dreams, his shoulder pressed to yours as you swayed gently together; brushing your hair back and tucking it behind your ear during Gypsy, then tilting your face up for a kiss that lingered through the chorus.

But it was Landslide that changed everything.

The first note landed like a sigh through the crowd, and Pedro’s whole body stilled. You glanced over and saw it: the catch in his throat, the shimmer rising in his eyes. He blinked slowly, then reached for your hand and brought it to his chest, laying it over his heart like he needed you to feel it beating.

“This song,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It carried me through some of the loneliest fucking years of my life.”

You leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “Then let it carry you through this one, too.”

He turned his head and kissed you—deep and slow and trembling a little at the edges. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes, one trailing down the curve of his cheek.

You reached up and brushed it away with your thumb, your heart thick with emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Pedro exhaled shakily. “You saved me. You know that, right?”

You nodded and pressed your forehead to his. “Then let me keep saving you. Every year.”

He closed his eyes and held you, tight and full and wordless, as Stevie Nicks’ voice floated into the stars.

By the end of the show, the crowd was roaring with joy—but Pedro didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, arms snug, mouth pressed to your hair.

“I don’t want this night to end,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t have to,” you said softly, tilting your face to meet his eyes. “There’s more to come.”

He looked at you, wide-eyed and glowing from the inside out. “You’re gonna be the reason I start believing in magic.”

You laughed gently, nose brushing his. “Let’s go to dinner.”

He nodded slowly, reluctantly unwrapping himself from you. “But I’m warning you,” he said, voice low and playful as he kissed your cheek, “I’m going to keep touching you the whole time.”

You smirked and tucked your hand into his as you turned toward the exit. “Good. I’m not done touching you either.”

——

The restaurant was a warm pocket of golden light tucked away in the quiet hills above the city—far enough from downtown that no one bothered with flash photography or autographs, just the hum of jazz and the low clinking of glassware. From the moment you stepped inside, it was like the world softened around the edges.

Pedro’s hand rested low on your back as the host led you in. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “This is perfect.”

You smiled and tilted your head toward his. “I wanted the night to keep feeling special.”

“It does,” he murmured. “You do that. Just by being here.”

The host showed you to a small corner table surrounded by tall potted plants and dark wood—intimate and private, just enough shadow to keep everything between you soft and golden. Pedro pulled out your chair before settling into his, his eyes never really leaving yours. Even in the dim lighting, the affection in them was unmistakable.

A candle flickered between you, its light catching the edge of his features—the strong curve of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, the tired but blissful glow still lingering from the concert. His hair was a little mussed from the wind, his smile slow and a little dazed, like he still hadn’t quite come down.

“Stevie Nicks and then this?” he said with a soft laugh, picking up his wine glass and holding it up to you. “I don’t know how you’re ever gonna top tonight.”

You clinked your glass gently against his. “I don’t need to. I just want you to feel loved.”

He stared at you for a long, quiet moment. Then his fingers reached across the table, sliding along yours until your hands met again. “I do. So much it scares me sometimes.”

You didn’t speak right away. Just looked at him—really looked—at the way he was still in awe, the way his voice dropped when he got serious, the way his thumb rubbed small, grounding circles against your palm like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You ran your fingers up his wrist slowly. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

Pedro exhaled, and it came out like relief. “You mean that.”

You nodded. “I mean that.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Then I’m yours. Completely.”

The wine helped, of course—rich and red and slow on the tongue—but even without it, you could feel the warmth blooming between you. It wasn’t just the music from earlier or the candlelight or even the fancy little plates of food you shared without thinking. It was him. And you. And the unspoken pull that had been tightening ever since he looked at you under the concert lights with tears in his eyes.

Conversation drifted easily between laughs and deep glances. He told you about old memories—his first time hearing Tusk on vinyl in a friend’s garage, the way his heart used to ache for things he didn’t even know how to name. You told him how you used to sing Silver Springs into your pillow as a teenager, how the music made you feel seen when nothing else did.

He was quiet for a beat after that, eyes lingering on your mouth like the words had etched themselves there.

Then he said, “You understand me in ways no one else ever has.”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t mean to, but you reached for him under the table, fingers resting on his thigh. His eyes darkened.

The music in the restaurant was soft, the piano barely a whisper beneath it all. You could feel his leg tense beneath your hand as he leaned forward, voice low and rough around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmured.

“Always.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. Since the concert. Since the second your hand brushed my knee during The Chain. I’ve been trying to behave and be patient and savour every part of tonight but—” he exhaled sharply, almost smiling, “—you’ve been driving me crazy, cariño.”

Your breath caught at the heat in his voice.

You leaned closer. “So stop trying to behave.”

His eyes met yours, and the quiet tension that had been coiling all night finally stretched into something unmistakable: want. Real, deep, consuming.

“I don’t think I can wait much longer,” he said. “I want to take you home. I want to worship you, properly. Slowly. Every inch of you.”

You swallowed, heat curling low in your belly. “Then let’s go.”

Pedro pulled out his wallet, dropped the money with a generous tip on the table without looking, and stood. His hand found yours immediately, lacing your fingers together tightly. You didn’t even bother with dessert. His attention was fully on you now—hungry, reverent, and visibly aching with the need he’d been holding back.

As you stepped into the cool night, he leaned in and kissed your shoulder through your dress, voice husky against your skin.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me tonight.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “Show me.”

He didn’t speak again. He just led you to the car, opened the door like a gentleman, and once you were inside—he reached across the seat, placed his hand over your thigh, and let it stay there the whole drive home.

The silence between you was electric.

And it was only the beginning.

——

The door clicked shut behind you both, and the quiet of the house wrapped around you like a soft, familiar embrace. The hum of the night settled in your chest, a warm afterglow from the concert and the dinner still pulsing between you. Pedro stood close, his hand still on your waist, his thumb brushing gentle circles against the soft fabric of your dress. The energy from the night, from the music, and from being so close to him hummed through your veins, making every step seem both deliberate and electric.

Pedro leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of your ear. “I can’t believe the night’s already over,” he murmured, voice thick with the same kind of contentment that made his eyes soft and his movements slow. “It was perfect… having you next to me.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful smile. “Well, it’s not over yet.”

He tilted his head, the spark in his eyes lightning up as if the promise of more only made him more curious. “Oh?” His voice dropped low. “What do you have in mind?”

You smiled, a touch of mischief flashing in your eyes. “Come with me.”

You led him into the living room, your heels clicking lightly on the floor with each step. The house felt still, private—intimate—like a space just for the two of you. When you reached the couch, you stopped and turned to face him, the air between you electric with the unspoken words that hovered in the quiet.

Pedro stood there for a moment, his eyes darkening as they traced over you. “You’re making me wait, huh?”

You bit your lip, a subtle nervousness swirling in your stomach. But the excitement was stronger. “Just a little longer.”

He took a slow step toward you, his hands gently lifting to rest on your hips. His touch was soft, almost reverent, like he was savouring every moment. “You’ve got me all intrigued now,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed, your breath hitching slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “I want to show you something.”

You reached for the back of your dress, your fingers trembling slightly as you slowly unzipped it. You could feel Pedro’s gaze on you, like a touch of its own, heat radiating from him. You slid the dress off your shoulders with deliberate slowness, the fabric brushing against your skin as it fell to the floor in a soft heap.

The matching lingerie you had chosen for the night was now fully visible: deep red lace, the kind that clung to your curves like a secret, shimmering subtly in the light. You stood there for a moment, heart racing, your pulse quickening at the way Pedro’s eyes darkened, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you.

Pedro’s mouth parted, his gaze sweeping over you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He stepped toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His hand reached for your waist, and he pulled you gently to him, his lips brushing your forehead, then your temple. “You’re… unbelievable,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “Every inch of you, just…”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest for a moment, allowing yourself a quiet moment of tenderness. But there was a heat in the air now—a tension that was undeniable. His body was pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of him, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Pedro’s hands slid lower, fingers brushing your curves, his touch light but sending a jolt of sensation through you. His lips brushed the top of your head as he kissed you softly, then pulled back, his gaze full of that same intensity that always seemed to make your heart beat faster. “Do what, baby?”

“Take care of you,” you replied, the words coming out with a mixture of confidence and that soft nervousness you couldn’t quite hide. “Let me show you.”

He paused for a beat, his expression flickering between disbelief and desire. Then, without another word, he moved to sit on the couch. His hand slid to the back of his neck, massaging it briefly before he spread his legs slightly, giving you room.

You felt your stomach flutter as you slowly knelt before him, your fingers brushing the tops of his thighs as you lowered yourself onto your knees.

Pedro looked down at you like he couldn’t believe you were real. One of his hands slid gently into your hair, fingers spreading wide at the nape of your neck, while the other relaxed over his thigh. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I want to,” you whispered, voice velvet-soft, sure and steady. “Just let me take care of you.”

You kissed the inside of his thigh first, slow and teasing, watching his breath catch. His skin was warm beneath your mouth, tense under your touch. Then you reached for the waistband of his jeans, fingers moving slowly as you undid the button and zipper, watching his face the entire time. He lifted his hips slightly when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, letting them settle low on his thighs.

The moment you took him in your hand, Pedro exhaled a rough, quiet breath. “Fuck…”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, then another lower, and another—watching the way his mouth parted, his brows knit with restraint already. He was heavy in your palm, already so hard, warm and pulsing with need. When you finally took him into your mouth, slow and deep, his hips shifted slightly, trying to stay still beneath you.

“Jesus, cariño…” he murmured, his voice thick and strained. “You’re gonna kill me…”

You hummed around him, slow and steady. You let your tongue swirl, your lips gliding in a soft, wet rhythm that made his head fall back against the couch. His grip in your hair tightened just slightly—never forcing, just anchoring. His thighs were taut beneath your hands, body tensed like a live wire.

“You look so pretty like this,” he breathed. “So fucking good. So—shit.”

You picked up the pace a little, just enough to make him curse again. His hips shifted, his breath growing shallow, body betraying how close he was already.

But just before his stomach tensed fully, before his body tipped over the edge, Pedro’s hand tightened in your hair—not rough, but firm. “Wait, wait—baby…”

You slowed instantly, looking up at him.

Pedro looked wrecked. His chest was heaving, eyes dark and hooded, a flush rising along his neck. “I—I need to stop. If you keep going, I won’t last. I wanna… I need to be inside you.”

You smiled softly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “Then take me.”

He picked you up like you weighed nothing, your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, lips never straying too far from yours. The walk to the bedroom was slow, his hands sliding under your thighs, the weight of him between your legs making your skin burn with want.

He set you on the bed and stepped back, finally shedding his jacket and shirt too—each piece removed with lazy confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He pulled off his jeans completely, along with his boxers, and then he knelt on the bed, between your legs, and peeled your lace panties off inch by inch.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your inner thigh. “Bet you’re already wet for me.”

Your breath caught. “Touch me and find out.”

He growled softly at that, eyes gleaming with heat.

Then his mouth was on you.

His tongue stroked through your folds—slow, deep licks, teasing circles around your clit, then soft suckling pressure that made you cry out, hips jerking. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, keeping you open for him, completely at his mercy.

He didn’t stop until you were shaking—until the orgasm built so tight it hurt. You came with a gasp, hands fisting the sheets as he moaned into you, lapping through your release like he needed it.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was slick with your release, just like his mustache and beard, and his eyes burned with nothing but want.

“You taste like heaven,” he whispered.

He climbed over you, kissing your mouth again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, hard and heavy, pressed against your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked softly, brushing your hair from your face.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I want you.”

Pedro pushed into you with a deep, groaning breath, filling you inch by inch. He moved slowly, watching your face, kissing you between thrusts as he bottomed out.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, clutching his back.

He set a rhythm—deep, smooth strokes that had your eyes fluttering shut, your body tightening around him. He whispered praise into your skin: “So good, baby... taking me so well... fuck, you feel perfect.”

The teasing softened then. He slowed down even more—letting each thrust linger, the weight of him pressing into you, chest to chest, breath to breath.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice rough.

“I love you,” you gasped back, your climax spiraling fast now, every stroke dragging across that perfect spot.

“Come for me, hermosa” he murmured, fingers between your legs, stroking you in time with his thrusts. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shattered under him—your second orgasm crashing through you like a wave, thighs clenching around him, cries muffled in his neck.

He groaned loudly, hips faltering.

Pedro groaned into your neck, hips faltering. “Fuck—gonna come.”

He pulled out quickly with a strained gasp, stroking himself just once, twice—and came undone across your stomach, eyes locked with yours the entire time. His breath caught, his lips parted, and you’d never seen anything more beautiful.

When he was done, he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, one hand immediately reaching for yours.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, still catching his breath, and smiled against your skin.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Boyfriend!Reid x Messy!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. bau!reader. lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm sorry, I just thought—”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you—” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it—” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[vevobly]

What about YJ adult or teen hcs for them with a partner who wears their heart on their sleeve, like just can't lie to save their life and also has the worst poker face in all history. I think itd be interesting to see who takes advantage of and who nurtures someone so emotionally transparent all the time

Yellowjackets With Heart On Their Sleeve Reader! [Peri-crash] (1)

A/N: I have a drafted work in progress headcanon post that's very similar to this, so I made this take place during peri-crash because that work took place pre-crash. Also to avoid confusion, Laura Lee's and Jackie's, can either be interpreted as it taking place before their deaths or their deaths never happening at all.

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie absolutely loves that you're open with your emotions—until it makes her uncomfortable. She enjoys being adored by you, but when you expect the same openness from her? She struggles bad. Whenever things get too serious with you guys, she'll deflect. Oh, you're telling her this really big heartfelt confession? Yep, she's gonna start joking or rolling her eyes at you. But you notice the way she looks at you when she thinks you're not watching, how her fingers linger a little too long when she fixes your hair. She's used to controlling how people see her but with you? She feels exposed, vulnerable and a little foolish.

In the wilderness, it's hard for her to keep her usual composure. So, she ends up envying how you don't try to hide your emotions. Sometimes, it even ends up with her lashing out at you for it. Feeling frustrated that you can be vulnerable when she feels like she can't be. But despite all of that, you're the only warmth she can find comfort with. She holds your hand when no one's looking, squeezing it a little too tight when things get bad. She'll never admit it or how much she needs it from you. But she'll melt into a literal puddle whenever you reassure her that it's okay to be scared, that she doesn't have to be perfect out there.

With the crash comes Jackie being very clingy to your affection more than she realizes. She hates being cold, hates being hungry, and hates feeling helpless. But at least your love for her is a constant. Something familiar in this world that's suddenly unrecognizable. When she wakes up shivering in the middle of the night, she reaches for you. She doesn't say anything, just merely tucks herself against your side and lets you hold her like she's something fragile. You don't complain, you never do. Why? Because this is the least you can do for her, be her anchor. So many things are changing, but this? This is something you hope never changes.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna isn't sure she deserves the way you love her. You're so open, so willing to let people see exactly how you feel and that terrifies her. You'll tell her that you love her, and she'll just hesitate before saying it back like the words might choke her. But she does love you. So much it makes her stomach hurt. Ever since the crash happened, she's been really clingy to you. Watching you almost always since then, being close or just near you. It feels like if she ever turns her back on you for a second, you'd disappear and never come back to her. And she wouldn't know what to do with herself if that happened.

She doesn't always know how to reciprocate, but her actions will speak for her to you. Small yet such meaningful things, you know? She'll share food with you, press against you for warmth, and hold onto your shirt when she sleeps. The first time she lets herself break down in front of you, she is embarrassed. But you just hold her, and for the first time in a long time, she feels safe. You're the only thing keeping her grounded in all of this. And she will be damned if something terrible ever happened to you here. Things change out here, but this? You and her? She hopes it doesn't.

After the crash, your love for her is a big comfort. But it's also a huge liability. She needs you, but she doesn't know how to need people without resenting them for it (*cough cough* Jackie—). There are nights when she will just hold onto you like she's afraid you'll disappear, her breath shaky against your collarbone. And there are mornings when she will barely look at you while pretending those nights never happened at all. You make her go weak in the knees but she can't let you know. She can't let you see her like that. Or else, you might think she's weak and leave her.

Taissa Turner:

Taissa has always been drawn to strength, determination, resilience, and the kind of control she prides herself on. So your emotional openness should make her see you as weak. But it doesn't. It makes her ache instead. She tells herself she doesn't need your affection. But then the crash happens, and suddenly, needing you isn't a choice. It's an instinct. Tai respects your emotional openness but she does not always know how to handle it. She's so used to pushing forward, keeping her emotions controlled, and not being vulnerable that it catches her off guard when you somehow manage to get through her and let out parts of her she locks away.

She gets really protective, watching over you like a hawk whenever things get dangerous. If someone ever tries to take advantage of your kindness, she'll be the first to step in on that. And although she becomes hyper focused on survival, during the very few quiet moments you guys get to have together with each other, she lets herself have you. She grips your hand when she thinks no one is looking, her fingers cold and a bit shaky. When she wakes up with dirt under her nails and blood on her skin, when she doesn't remember what she did in the night—she turns to you. Your voice is the only thing that manages to snap her back to reality.

It's great that you are the way you are because when Tai feels like breaking apart under everything that's going on, you just manage to swoop in time and reassure her that everything will be fine. It's because of you that she can somehow still keep pushing through after everything that's happened so far. She knows she leans on you more than she realizes but refuses to acknowledge it. Now at night, when it's just the two of you, she's able to be soft. She'll whisper these quiet reassurances, hold you close, press her forehead against yours, and breathe you in like you're the only thing keeping her tethered. You're her only light in this place of darkness.

Van Palmer:

No doubt, Van loves how open you are with your emotions. She even teases you about it at times. It's honestly one of her favorite things about you. When you tell her you love her? She'll just grin and say "I know" before pulling you in for a kiss. And when the crash happens, your honesty with your emotions helps her cope. She jokes around to keep everyone's spirits high, but when things get bad, she'll turn to you. Just knowing you'll tell her the truth instead of sugarcoating it or saying a lie in return.

She makes it her mission to keep you laughing even in the worst moments. She needs to see you smile because your smile reminds her that there's still something worth holding onto despite everything being seemingly grim right now. If you ever break down? She'll be right there with you to pull you into her arms and to tell you "it's okay, babe. I've got you." while you're at it. She loves you so much. And while her jokes can keep everyone's spirits up, there's something tight in her chest when everyone is laughing and she just looks at you. She's terrified of a lot of things. But she's more terrified this place is going to break you before it breaks her someday.

When the wolf attack happens, when she wakes up bandaged and barely breathing? She sees the look on you and hates it. Hates how scared you are. Hates that she did this to you. "Hey," She'll rasp, voice wrecked and yet she's smiling. "Still pretty, right?" She means it as a joke, but at the same time, it's a real question. You just look at her, and Van hates it. Hates how you aren't laughing. Hates how you aren't even in the slightest bit smiling at all. But then you shake your head and just proceed to fuss over her. "I could get used to this," She'll chuckle, and you'll just narrow your eyes at her before kissing her. She's fine.

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie isn't used to being loved the way you love her. She's used to people usually leaving or worse, hurting her just because they can. When you first tell her you love her, she flinches, and then she waits. As if your words are just a joke, a prank that you'll soon admit to and take back. But you don't. And Nat can't decide whether that's a good thing or a bad thing for her. Because with the way you are, there's no room left for her to doubt that your words aren't true. She wants to believe otherwise, but she knows you and how you are. When you say something, you really do mean it sincerely.

When the crash happens, she pretends to be annoyed when you tell her just how much she means to you. But if anyone looked closely, they would see the way her expression softens. The way she grips your hand a little tighter. In the wilderness, you're one of the only things keeping her from completely shutting down. Your ability to love her so openly reminds her that maybe, just maybe, there's still some good left in this world despite everything she's been through before and after the crash. She worries about you being too open, too trusting at times. She doesn't want you to get hurt, and if she has to be the one to protect you, so be it.

One night, you whisper "I love you" into her hair and she doesn't say anything. But the way she exhales slowly, just before she starts pressing herself closer to you that night says enough. She might never put it into words, but her actions tell you more than enough. She loves you too. And she'll be damned if she let the wilderness or whatever the hell it is do something to you. Nat lets you trace the scars on her arms, lets you kiss the bruises on her ribs, but she never asks for it. Because asking means wanting, and wanting means losing. And Nat? Nat would rather die than let herself lose you at all.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie watches you like she sees something in you that no one else does (it's eerie and very romantic at the same time). Something important. Something sacred. Before the crash, her love was gentle. Soft touches, dreamy smiles, and forehead kisses that lingered. But after the crash? After that, her love practically becomes worship. She tells you the wilderness wants you. That your love isn't just love. It's a gift. A sign. And you're scared, but when she looks at you like that, it's hard to remember why. This is still Lottie, your girlfriend. Despite everything, you still love her more than anything.

For Lottie, she finds your emotional openness as something beautiful. I mean, she's always been sensitive to her emotions, and yours? It just shines so brightly that she's drawn to you like a moth to a flame. She constantly reassures you that your emotions are valid. That you should feel deeply because the world is hard enough without bad people trying to snuff out your light. She finds you being the way you are as something that makes you special. Your love for her is a source of comfort. Not just for her, but for the others too. While you being open emotionally could be a weakness to most people, it's a strength to her and the wilderness.

She makes sure you know how much she cherishes you. Constantly holding you close, whispering soft praises, and running her fingers through your hair to soothe you whenever things get bad out in the wilderness. She might have changed a bit (that's an understatement) after the crash, but she's still her. She's still your Lottie after everything. If anyone tries to hurt you, she will step in one way or another. The wilderness is cruel, but she will not let it take away the warmth that you bring to her. It can take and take whatever it wants, it just can't take you no matter what. And if it does, Lottie wouldn't know what to do with herself if it ever happened.

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee admires your emotional honesty. She sees it as a strength, proof that you have a good heart. And encourages you to express your feelings always, reassuring you that there is completely nothing wrong with being vulnerable the way you are to many others. "God gave us emotions for a reason" She told you once with this soft and gentle smile. After the crash happens, your presence is the only source of comfort for her amongst other things. She prays for the both of you, holding your hand tightly whenever she starts to whisper for protection and guidance out there in the wilderness.

Laura Lee loves you with an earnestness that makes your chest hurt. She believes in you the way she believes in God, fully and without hesitation. Your love is something pure, something untouched by whatever darkness is creeping into the lives of everyone with you guys in the wilderness. "This place can't take what's in your heart." She holds your hands between her, leaning down to kiss your knuckles softly before pressing her forehead against yours. She often reminds you that your love is good, that even in the wilderness, it's important to hold onto kindness. And that no matter what happens, you guys will have each other always and forever.

You're scared. She's scared. Everyone is scared. But despite all of it, at least you guys have each other. Whenever you feel like breaking down because of everything that's happening, she's there for you always. Running smooth circles on your back as she reassures you as best as she can that everything will be fine and that you guys along with everyone else will be found and then brought back home sooner or later. You can't tell whether you believe her or not, but it's nice to be comforted and to hold onto someone's words during these times when it seems like nothing will be better. In the wilderness, she's your shield. Your guiding light.

Misty Quigley:

Misty adores how expressive you are. She's never had someone openly love her the way you, and it makes her feel special. She clings to every bit of affection you give her, smiling so wide when you say you love her. Just practically vibrating with happiness when you hold her hand. But after the crash, her attachment to you becomes even stronger. She'll do anything to keep you safe, whether you want it or not, it's not really a problem. This girl doesn't plan on losing you now or ever. If anyone tries to hurt you or take advantage of your kindness, Misty will take care of it. She won't let anything happen to the one person who makes her feel truly loved.

Misty loves you in a way that's too much—too intense, too desperate, too Misty. Before the crash, she always tried so hard to be what you wanted. To be the kind of person you chose instead of tolerated. And with the crash happening after, she doesn't even have to try. She saves lives. She's needed. And you need her. She does everything for you. Gets you extra food, gives you the warmest blankets, and makes sure you're safe. When you jokingly call her your hero one time, she beams. She doesn't care if you mean it or not. She just needs to hear it from you. Not Jackie, not Shauna, not Tai, or anyone else. Just you.

Misty constantly reassures you that you're important almost to an annoying degree. She's always telling you that you're the best thing to have ever happened in her whole life. And if that means keeping you by her side forever... well, she'll make sure that happens. Whether you want it or not. She will make it happen. She'll make sure that no matter what happens out there in the wilderness that the two of you will make it out alive together and not without the other. Misty won't let herself be found and rescued unless you're there with her. Because nothing would be complete without you there.

[k3n-dyll]

☆F.U.C.K

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, also, written at 2am, established friends with benefits, self-indulgent smut, dom!Abby, shower sex, strap on (r!receiving), strap referred to as a dick/cock Word Count:2.08k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ The next fic I have based on a song will not be as fun! Just a heads up. Also, two works back to back within a few hours? We're so back

FWB!Abby who isn't known to be very open about her sexuality. Sure, there are rumors, and there are people she's told that she's lesbian, but that list is pretty limited to close friends. It's not that she's trying to hide it, anyone with working eyes who takes more than a second or two to look at her can tell, she just doesn't feel like it's anyone's business but her own.

And yours of course.

Abby's never been particularly sappy or romantic. Still, despite how intense her day-to-day is - fighting Scars, killing infected, being on high alert at every turn because there's no way of knowing what will be the next thing to try and kill her first - she's a bit of a thrill seeker in her own way. The idea of doing something seemingly forbidden, the rush of nearly getting caught doing something less than savory, has never failed to be a turn-on for her and it's something that, over time, you've become acutely aware of. She's gotten into the habit of dragging you into bathrooms, and storage closets, sometimes even taking it upon herself to get handsy underneath tables when in the presence of others just to see that nervous look you get.

It should be no shock to you that she'd do something like this and yet, you're still baffled.

The showers were peaceful today, it was late and most people were either asleep or just waking up for their own shifts. After a long patrol, all you wanted to do was turn on the hot water and let it soak over your aching muscles, washing the blood, dirt, and sweat that had accumulated on your skin down the drain. You weren't expecting to feel a large pair of hands gripping at your waist in the shower, and if you hadn't known better, you might have started swinging.

"Abby, what the hell?" You flinch a little under her grasp, and while you try to sound angry, the amused chuckle that forms with your words is hard to stifle.

"Nice to see you too" Abby mutters, already beginning an assault on your neck with her lips, trailing wet kisses down your skin as she speaks.

"I thought you said you were tired" You try and turn to face her but you're only met with a tightened grip on your body, forcing you to face the glass shower wall.

"I lied."

Before you can think up something snarky to say, Abby presses her front up against you further and you stiffen completely, the sensation of something that definitely isn't normally there now flush against your ass.

"What is that?" You question, turning your head in attempt to get a look at whatever it is she's got rubbing against you, but again she forces your eyes forward, grabbing your chin to make you face the wall again.

"I want you to guess." She purrs, nipping at your earlobe, unable to stop herself from letting out a low chuckle. "C'mon, baby, I know you remember. That shop we passed by the other day? You were all curious about it, but we never got the chance to really look around."

In order to somewhat jog your memory, one of her hands releases its grip on you, wrapping around what she has and pressing it between your soaked thighs, shallowly thrusting it between them. Your breath hitches at the feeling and the memory comes flooding back into your mind. It was a few days back - Manny had pointed out an old sex shop and being the man he is he just couldn't shut up about it. Mostly he'd bragged about how, as much as he'd like to experiment, his own hands and body got the job done just fine.

In the moment it was funny, and a little stupid. The three of you managed to catch a quick glimpse of the interior, seeing some of the different toys that hadn't been looted or destroyed and joking about all of the time people in the Old World must have had to be so experimental with their sex lives. Unbeknownst to you, one toy in particular had caught Abby's eye. She didn't point it out to you or Manny, but right before you all had to leave, the rest of your patrol group having already started packing up to head back to base, she'd hidden it so that she could go back for it later. And she did.

"Figured it out, pretty girl?"

Abby's voice snaps you out of your head and you nod, coaxing another low chuckle out of her.

"You wanna see it?"

The moment her hold on you loosens you turn around, eyes panning down her toned, naked frame to the black harness that was fixed around her hips and landing on the toy that had just been sliding up against your cunt. Your eyes widen at the sight of the thick, purple silicone toy dangling from her body, and as much as you'd like to deny the immediate heat that rises in your belly at the sight of it, you can't.

"I don't think that's gonna fit. And...and what if we get caught, Abs you can't just hide that thing"

You say it without much thought, your words forcing a genuine laugh out of your 'friend'. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes.

"You worry too much, baby. I locked the door. If someone comes knocking, I can just get out and tuck it in my bag before we open the door" She reassures as she gently guides you by your waist to the fogged-up wall, pressing you against it. "And trust me, once I get you nice and warmed up, it'll fit"

Abby sinks to her knees in front of you without another word, settling herself between your legs and dragging her tongue along your slit. The doubt that was once present in the front of your mind quickly starts to fade as she laps at your dripping heat, your hands weaving into her wet hair and holding on to keep her in place. You feel the tip of two of her thick fingers dip into your pussy, coating the digits with your arousal before slipping them into you completely.

She never failed to have this effect on you, and if it weren't so sexy, it'd be frustrating. Your mind is so quick to go blank under her touch, hips unconsciously grinding against her tongue as she swirls it along your puffy clit. Abby's unusually slow about it at first, curling and scissoring her fingers in and out of you, making sure to prepare you as best she can, but by the time she slips in a third finger her impatience and excitement makes itself known. You're practically teetering at the edge of an orgasm when she pulls away from you entirely, a whine escaping you as you're denied a release.

"Abby..."

"Shh, baby I know" Abby murmurs, standing back up, smiling softly as she watches your brows fix together. "I want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something about the way she refers to it as her own, as if she'd grown it herself sends a shock of electricity through you, and you answer her with an eager nod.

"Atta girl, now be good for me and turn around" She instructs, pushing you flush against the glass when you obey her command.

Abby knows how badly you must be aching at this point, her own precum leaking down her thighs as her eyes rove over your back. Even so, she takes her time, fucking your thighs, calloused palms spreading your ass a bit to get a better view. She groans at the sight of your essence combining with the water, making the dildo glisten in the fluorescent lights.

"God, you're so fucking wet" She whispers. "So ready to get split on my fuckin' dick, aren't you?"

The desperate little whines and the way you wiggle your ass back onto her is all the confirmation she needs to slowly push in, though, to neither of your surprise with how soaked you are, it proves to be rather easy. The difference is almost funny to her. You looked so nervous when you'd seen it initially, and now you were sucking her in like you were used to it.

"There ya go, slipped in so fast baby, fuck"

The way Abby moans when the toy is all the way inside of you, the way she struggles to keep at a slow pace to make sure you're well adjusted to the girth - you'd think she could feel it. It's an adjustment for both of you, the task of keeping it from fully slipping out of you when she pulls back proving to be a tad more annoying than she thought it would be, but she figures it out. And, God, if it isn't fucking worth it when she does.

Each thrust is like a shock to your system, Abby's pace only increasing as she loses herself in the moment. She could probably - and likely will end up - cumming from this alone. It was already a bit of a fantasy in her mind, having often wondered what it would be like to fuck you like this, but she didn't think she actually could. Her vivid blues are transfixed on the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin only made more intense by the water flowing along your bare bodies.

"A-Abby I- oh my god, please!" Words barely come out of you, and when they do, they're choppy breathless rambles with no real substance. Normally you were so careful about volume, but there are always times when she'd fucked you so stupid that you stopped caring. This, for example, being one of those times.

"So fuckin' pretty...you look so fuckin' pretty trying to take it for me" Her grip on your hips is bound to leave bruising, but all you can think about is how grateful you are for that fact. If not for her hands, you'd be on the ground by now, legs shaking and unable to hold your weight any longer.

Abby knows your tells well enough to see when you're about to explode - the incoherent sobs, twitching legs, your hands desperately trying to grab onto everything - anything that could possibly help ground you even a little bit. It only eggs her on, her arm snaking around your body to rub feverishly at your aching clit, almost impatient in her need to watch you come apart for her.

"Fuck, don't stop Abby, please, 'm so close...so fuckin' close" You manage to blurt out, damn near crying at the intensity, eyes rolled into the back of your head, head lulled forward against the wall. It's taking everything in you not to fall apart this instant but you want to drag it out for just a little longer.

"Almost there, honey, I got you... C-c'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking cock"

The white-hot intensity of your orgasm sends you reeling, a string of curses and choked cries spilling from your lips, arousal further wetting your inner thighs as it spurts out of you. Abby can't help but moan loudly at the sight, continuing to pump in and out of you to let the base of the toy bump against her clit more, her own climax following soon after yours.

Somehow, Abby manages to stay upright despite her legs feeling like putty, knowing full well that if she falls you'll go down with her. Her strong arms wrap around you tightly as she pulls out of you, her sweaty forehead resting against your back as you both work to catch your breath.

"Fuck..that was..." She trails off, the actual strain of her actions hitting her body, making it difficult for her to get a word out between breaths. You giggle at the sound of her struggle, though you aren't doing any better.

"So fucking good.." Is all you breathe out, your mind still too fuzzy to think of something better to say.

Abby just nods, lacking the energy to say something snarky in response, the only sound remaining being the now cold water from the showerhead pitter-pattering against the ground, though eventually, she does force herself to speak up once more.

"Once I....catch my fuckin' breath...we're so doing that again"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,

[babyleostuff]

passenger princess(es)

𝜗𝜚 fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 wc: 894

・ ❥ ・ there is nothing that could stop cheol from taking care of his passenger princess(es)

„hey baby, can you pass me the water bottle?” seungcheol let go of the wheel, so he could grab the bottle from you, not tearing his eyes from the road for a second. 

cheol was a great driver, excellent even in his humble opinion - he has never gotten a ticket in his life, and people told him on multiple occasions how safe they felt with him behind the wheel. he was also very much aware of how hot he looked driving, something he often used against you. with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up (which accentuated his yummy biceps even more), the expensive watch around his wrist and, for dessert, his other hand resting on your thigh - you had no other way out than to totally thirst over your unfairly sexy boyfriend.

there were times when you found yourself staring at him with no shame, he was that hot. not that seungcheol cared, if he did he wouldn’t flex his biceps on purpose while grabbing the wheel. 

but while he was (obviously) very careful while driving, it seemed that his protective instincts kicked in on a higher level when you were sitting next to him. 

that’s why when you didn’t answer him, or gave him the bottle, he made sure to grab the wheel with both of his hands before throwing a glance at you. 

„my love, did you h-,” words stuck in his throat when he saw your closed eyes and your head resting against the window. cheol knew that sooner or later you would fall asleep anyway, no matter how hard you insisted on not sleeping. “i want to keep you company,” you pouted angrily, and grabbed the AUX, “don’t want you to feel lonely.” it was on the tip of cheol's tongue that there was no chance he would feel lonely, even if you were sleeping. not to mention your little white fluff ball in the backseat that always kept him company. 

„you see, told you mommy would fall asleep,” he laughed, looking at your precious baby in the rearview mirror. kkuma seemed to have the best time looking at the passing cars, barking at some of them, and wagging her tail at others. 

seungcheol sighed with a smile, as he grabbed your hand that was resting on your tummy. „ah, what am i going to do with you, my silly girls.” 

to be honest - he couldn't have been more content. you spent the whole day together on the beach, with kkuma running into the waves (she ended up looking like a wet mop), eating food from the seaside food stalls, walking along the shore, and finally ending the day with a swim together. days off were the best. 

suddenly, his daydream was cut short when he felt you shiver. cheol wouldn’t have been that worried (you sometimes got those shivers in your sleep, which he always found really cute), but you grabbed his hand tighter, as if you were searching for more body heat. he frowned as he ran his hand over your arm, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. 

„why didn’t you just tell me you were cold,” he muttered, half annoyed, and half worried. your hair was still wet, and your clothes damp after you put them over your swimsuit, so if the AC was too low you could get sick - something seungcheol wouldn’t let happen, even if it meant he’d have to fight the illness himself. 

fortunately, there was a gas station a few kilometers away.

he parked right next to a small field of grass so he could also let kkuma out for a moment, and opened the trunk in search of a blanket he could cover you with. cheol also found his sweater and decided that two layers wouldn’t hurt. 

to avoid any neck or back cramps, seungcheol gently repositioned you in your seat so as not to wake you up, but still let you sleep peacefully without straining any muscles. technically he could just turn the heating on, but he just let you freeze for the past god knows how many minutes - he had to bundle you up. „my pretty girl,” he stroked your cheek, leaning in to kiss your nose, before covering you with the sweater. 

„c-cheollie?” you suddenly mumbled, and raised your hand to rub your eyes. your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh at your slightly confused expression.  

„i pulled over, baby,” he said softly. „you were sleeping and you were clearly freezing, which by the way, please let me know next time if you're cold, so i stopped to cover you up.” 

you looked at him with big, sleepy eyes like you were still trying to figure out which planet you were on - you were clearly still too tired to understand. „’s okay, go back to sleep.” 

some people were afraid of sleeping in cars, after all, there were so many situations that could lead to a catastrophe - what if the driver fell asleep or did not notice the approaching vehicle? 

but you were not scared at all, not in the slightest. if you had to pick one person on earth that made you feel the safest, you’d pick choi seungcheol without a hesitation. in a car or not - you knew he’d protect you no matter what. 

that's why, without thinking, you nodded and closed your eyes, falling back asleep.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere Killer x Reader

You don’t hear about your sister’s death until the morning after. You’re pouring cheap coffee into a chipped mug, thumb absentmindedly rubbing at a lipstick stain that isn’t yours, when the news report flashes across the television above the counter.

“—young woman, twenty-three, found in an abandoned building off Mulberry. Police believe foul play may be involved.”

The name makes you freeze. The words blur after that.

Your shift ends early. Your manager mumbles something about taking as long as you need, but his eyes dart toward the schedule like your grief is a logistical problem. You leave without saying goodbye.

Your sister’s name doesn’t feel real on the obituary page. Just black ink on grey paper. It says she liked poetry and animals. It doesn’t say she used to steal your clothes or that she could never remember your birthday. It doesn’t say that she owed you money. It doesn’t say you loved her.

It doesn’t say what was done to her.

The cops won’t tell you much. Ongoing investigation, they say. You try to ask again, later, but the detective barely looks up from his notepad.

You think it’s over. You think it’s just another horrible thing in a world full of them. But then, a week later, you find the envelope. No return address, just your name, printed in neat block letters. Inside: a photograph. Black and white. Your sister. Eyes closed. Her mouth is open, like she’s saying something. Behind her is a crumbling brick wall and nothing else.

You recognize the necklace she’s wearing. You gave it to her last Christmas.

There’s no note. No explanation. But you know — it was taken after she died.

You tell the police. They say they’ll look into it. You can tell they don’t believe you. Or maybe they do, but it doesn’t matter. You’re just the family. Just a footnote.

It doesn’t stop. Another envelope arrives, and another. Sometimes it’s photos. Sometimes newspaper clippings about the murder, with certain words underlined in red pen. One of them is a picture of your apartment building, taken from across the street.

You stop sleeping. You jump at shadows. You think you see someone standing across the road at night, but when you blink, they’re gone.

The third letter has something new: a note.

“She screamed your name before she died. I thought you should know.”

You throw up in the sink. You call the police again. They don’t help.

He watches you. You don’t know it yet, but he’s there. He watches you lock your door three times in a row. He watches you flinch at the sound of tires screeching in the street. He watches you cradle your phone like a lifeline when you walk home at night.

He’s fascinated by you.

You’re different than the others. You’re not begging for your life. You’re surviving. You’re enduring. You’re unraveling — beautifully, slowly — and he thinks he’s the only one who really sees it. He did this to you, after all. This grief? This fear? It was his gift.

He calls it connection.

He knows things about you now. How your voice sounds when you’re reading under your breath. What you hum when you’re doing dishes. The way you whisper her name at night, like she might hear you. Like she might come back.

He learns your schedule. Where you shop. Which friends you’ve stopped talking to. Which ones still try to call. (You don’t answer anymore.)

He thinks about introducing himself. Casually. In a grocery store aisle. On the bus. In a coffee shop. Somewhere ordinary. He imagines how startled you’ll be when you realize how much you need him.

He writes your name over and over in a notebook, his handwriting getting more frenzied with each page. He adds hearts around it, then crosses them out until the paper tears.

He breaks into your apartment when you’re gone. Just to look. Just to see how you live. What you keep. What you miss.

He sits on your bed for hours.

One night, you wake up and the air feels wrong. You don’t hear anything, not at first, but something in your bones tells you you’re not alone. You creep into the hallway, heart pounding, and find your front door open.

Not just unlocked. Open.

You call the police. They take a report. They don’t do much else.

You move out a week later. A friend lets you stay on her couch. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t need to — you look haunted.

You change your number. You deactivate your social media. You start carrying a gun in your bag, even though you’ve never used one.

Still, the envelopes come. Now addressed to your friend’s house.

The notes get more personal.

“You looked at me today. You didn’t know it, but you did.”

“I miss her too. But she wasn’t like you.”

“You’re the only one who understands.”

There’s a mirror above your friend’s fireplace. You catch yourself looking at it too often, trying to see what he sees. Why you? What is it about you that made him choose you, follow you, claim you?

You wonder what would happen if you wrote back. If you left a note of your own.

Why are you doing this?

Or maybe:

What do you want from me?

But the real question — the one that curls in your stomach late at night — is darker.

What would it feel like if you answered? If you gave him what he wanted? If you stopped running?

You never met your sister’s killer.

That’s what you tell yourself.

But you remember a man from the funeral. He wasn’t a friend or a family member. You assumed he was a co-worker, or someone she knew from school. He stood in the back. Said nothing. His eyes never left you.

You thought he looked familiar. You thought maybe you’d seen him around.

You think about him too much.

And sometimes, you wonder if he’s still out there. If he’s still watching.

And worse—if he’s waiting.

Because you haven’t heard from him in three months.

And that, somehow, is the most terrifying thing of all.

Masterlist

[really-fanny-longbottom]

only in my dreams [part 2]

azriel x reader, eris x reader | you turned off your emotions so you could protect your heart but at what price? warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, curse words, blood and death. words: 8.9k

series masterlist | general masterlist

morning was here. 

you left emerie's house when the first rays of sunlight passed through the half-open bedroom window. 

your friends were still sound asleep when you pushed away their arms that tried to offer you some comfort during the night and got out of bed. 

you had no intention in waiting for them to wake up and having to talk about what had happened just a few hours ago. 

so you quickly changed your clothes and placed the backpack you had brought with you over your left shoulder.  

you didn't bother looking back when you left the room.

the front door closed behind you, and you found yourself facing the sun that was almost reaching its usual place in the blue sky. 

sunrise has always been your favorite part of the day.  

not only for the view, but also for its meaning — every time the sun rises, a new day comes with it, a new day that seems like a new blank page giving you a new opportunity to do your best and let go of the past on the day that was left behind. 

besides, being a healer meant that your day always started early, so why not start it with the best view ever?

when you lived with your aunt madja, you would go to the bridge over the sidra and sit on the wall and when you moved to the house of the wind you would go to your balcony and do the same.

you would close your eyes and tilt your head slightly upwards and immediately relax with the sunlight passing through your body and warming not only your skin but also your soul.

you don't know if it was because you're an empath but you've always felt a connection with the sun, as if you could feel its energy, it was as if the sun itself had emotions and was trying to communicate with you.

you loved how it made you feel.

but that was before.

now, standing in the doorway of emerie's house, as you looked at it, you didn't know what to do.

you stayed there for a few moments waiting for something to happen — for you to feel something.

but nothing came.

with a shrug of your shoulders, you turned your back on what used to be your greatest comfort and step by step you began to move away from it and the house.

as you walked, you didn't notice that the camp was starting to wake up, just as you didn't notice the sunlight fading away.

you winnowed as soon as you reached the edge of the camp.

••• 

twenty minutes later, you were in velaris about to arrive at your aunt's house to take a much-needed shower.

as you walked up the street, you didn't pay attention to any of the citizens who were opening their establishments and getting ready for a new day of work.

some of them tried to get your attention to greet you just like they always did. You would look at them with your eyes full of color and wave greetings with a warm smile, sometimes you would even stop and talk to some of them.

but not anymore.

now, you simply walked with an expression of indifference without removing your empty eyes from the path ahead.

you only stopped when an all too familiar voice filled the air around you — the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. "y/n."

you could already see your aunt's house from here, and you were so close to getting there. 

slowly, you turned around and faced the person who had stopped you from reaching your destination.

it was the wife of the patient you lost yesterday with one of their sons by her side, both wearing mourning clothes.

"i'm sorry to bother you, but i saw you passing by, and i just wanted to thank you again for what you did for my husband yesterday." she told you with a weak voice, her eyes still red from the tears.

with a fake smile on your features, you ran a hand through your hair before telling her, "i was just doing my job. after all, that's what i'm paid for."

surprised by your reaction, the female lost her words and after a few seconds to compose herself, she cleared her throat and said "well, the funeral is this afternoon at three o'clock if you want to join us."

you laughed, and without a care in the world, you replied, "no, thank you. i have better things to do but have fun."

and with that, you turned your back on them and walked up the rest of the street before removing the small key from your backpack and entering your aunt's house.

the wife and son remained in their places, trying to understand what had just happened. 

••• 

after placing your backpack on the sofa, you started heading to the stairs towards the bathroom, but before you could, an irritated voice stopped you in your tracks. "where have you been?"

"oh, for cauldron's sake," you muttered and turned to find madja with her arms crossed and an angry face.

"i was with the valkyries. i spent the night at emerie's." you told her with a tone of annoyance.

"i'm aware of that. the high lord had the decency to send me a letter unlike you," madja scolded before continuing, her voice turning softer. "he also told me what happened about azriel." 

when she opened her mouth to speak again, you raised a hand and stopped her from it, "okay, auntie, it's too early for this. i'm going to take a shower and i'll see you at the clinic. okay. cool."

you used both hands to give the cool sign, but before you could step on the stairs, madja called you again. "wait."

"ugh, you gotta be kidding me," you whispered low enough for her not to hear.

you saw your aunt grab a piece of parchment and hand it to you. "this arrived for you a few minutes ago." 

when you unrolled it, you recognized nesta's handwriting. 

she was asking where you were. 

without hesitation, you crumpled the paper and threw it into the middle of the fireplace where it instantly began to burn.

"anything else?"

when your aunt didn't speak, you accepted her silence as an answer and started climbing the stairs by jumping two steps at a time. 

the bathroom door closed seconds later, and madja, who didn't know what animal had bitten you to react like that, put a hand to her forehead before muttering to herself, "what was that?"  

••• 

the clinic was very busy like almost every day but you never complained.

unlike other people, you could happily say that you liked your work. being a healer has always been a rewarding job. 

there was nothing else you enjoyed as much as helping your patients. heal them, make them feel safe, and heard. make them feel important.

your favorite days were the days you helped a new life enter this world. seeing those beings so small and innocent was the best miracle of life.  

but of course, like all jobs, yours also had a bad side. 

seeing your patients sick and knowing that in some cases there is nothing you can do to help, seeing them leave this life and the family they leave behind. 

there were patients who had left such an impact on you that from time to time, they appeared in your dreams. 

sometimes, you felt guilty at their memory because you felt like you could have done more, but most of the time, their memories reminded you to do better for others.  

but none of that mattered to you anymore. now you simply limited yourself to doing your job so you could get paid. 

you were finishing bandaging the knee of a boy who had tripped while running.

the boy had become a regular patient of yours, always finding a way to hurt himself, whether it is running or reading a book.

it was a simple wound that didn't require the use of your powers, so you cleaned, disinfected, and put a bandage on it.

your right hand held his injured leg while the other tried to wrap the bandage, when you finished and lowered his leg, you noticed that he had a bruise in the exact place where your hand had been just seconds before.

with your focus on the wound, you hadn't even noticed the bruise. you went behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of ointment that you had made last weekend and handed it to the boy.

"take this," you pointed to the bruise that had several shades of purple on his leg, "twice a day, one in the morning and one at night. if it starts to hurt, put some ice on it."

following the movement of your hand, the boy saw the bruise for the first time with a confused face "oh, i didn't even know I had that," he grabbed the bottle and with a toothless smile, he started heading towards the door but not without shouting first "thank you, y/n! i'll see you next week." 

"whatever" you let out a sigh and walked towards your chair to take a break but before you could your aunt directed you to the next patient. 

it was an old male who mixed up the plants in his garden and ended up using the wrong plant as a seasoning for his food.

he was slightly pale, nauseous, and had stomach pain.

"you mistaken a poisonous plant for a seasoning plant?" you asked as you examined him, judgment written all over your face and voice.

"yes, i know what it looks like," he explained between short breaths, "but it was an honest mistake."

"it was a stupid mistake." you answered him without hesitation.

you were too busy finishing your exam to notice madja's shocked expression, who had stopped what she was doing at the sound of your words.

"y/n!" she approached and scolded you. "you can't talk to patients like that."

"what? it's true. it's not my fault he's an idiot." you told her with frightening indifference.

at your response, your aunt put her hands to her head with a whisper of "by the mother," escaping between her lips.

she got closer to the patient and placed one hand on his arm before bringing the other to her chest and apologizing to him for your behavior.

the male, on the other hand, said, "it's okay, she happens to be right."

you scoffed "of course i am," you turned to your aunt and with an air of irritation you asked her "now, are you going to let me work or haven't you finished disturbing me yet?"

shocked by your words, madja didn't know how to react or what to say, so she limited herself to taking two steps back, giving you space to continue working.

she looked at you, trying to understand what was happening to you, because this type of behavior was not normal.

you had never spoken to her like that — you had never spoken to anyone like that.

you were sweet, attentive, and very polite. this was not the niece she knew.

she couldn't help but think that maybe this situation with azriel and elain was affecting more than you had let on.

plus, she was well acquainted with how much your emotions could overwhelm you. 

choking sounds broke the trance she was in, and her mind refocused on what was in front of her.

you had started the healing process in the patient, and your hand hovered over his belly in order to try to eliminate the poison, but something was wrong.

because the patient was now paler and bleeding from his mouth.

madja saw you stop and look at her. "i think the poison is stronger than i thought." you kept looking at her, no doubt waiting for her to react, but when she didn't, you couldn't help the sarcastic comment that escaped you. "are you waiting for him to die? because my arms are starting to get numb." 

that was enough to make her move and begin her own examination of the patient.

she frowned. did you really just say that? 

"are you sure you gave me the correct name of the plant you used in your food?" you asked the patient while using a cloth to clean the blood, irritation in your voice.

he simply nodded his head

"maybe the plant you used was in contact with another. are there any other poisonous plants in your garden?"

the male shook his head, his breathing more rapid.

your brain started working quickly trying to see all the possibilities and it was then that you turned to your aunt and found yourself saying "maybe it's because he ate a long time ago and that allowed the poison to spread. i mean, who knows how long this idiot ingested a poisonous plant?" 

madja didn't answer you and due to her silence, you removed your hands from the patient and met her gaze with your empty eyes and a bored expression in your features "okay, so you got this right? i'm hungry, so i'm going to take a break." and with a look of disgust, you walked away.

the old female's heart was beating very fast. she couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

not just your words but also your actions.

maybe she had seen wrong. 

maybe what she saw and made her freeze before you caught her attention hadn't happened.

maybe she just imagined it. 

because it couldn't be.

could it?

•••

several days passed, and you continued to act strangely since the day you returned from illyria. 

madja was observing you now more than ever, and little by little, she began to assimilate all the differences that you now demonstrated, but the one that worried her the most until now?  

the reason she made you work behind the counter taking care of patient charts so you wouldn't have to interact with them medically. 

you weren't the niece she knew and loved so much, and she began to think that something else must have happened — something you weren't sharing with her. 

and if madja was honest with herself, you were starting to scare her.

your behavior continued to become increasingly strange — how you interacted with patients, the way you spoke to her, your 'new clothes', and your nights out.

not to mention what you had said to the family of the patient you lost a week ago. 

madja met them in the market when she went shopping for groceries, and when the widow told her what you had said them, she didn't want to believe that such insensitivity had come from you. 

she thought about asking the inner circle if they knew anything but after meeting the high lady on the street as she left her studio the other day, she informed madja that it had been almost a week and a half since any of them had seen or spoken to you. 

feyre also explained that both she and the others sent several letters to you, and none returned with a response.

not even nesta knew where you were these days. 

it was with this new information that madja's heart began to tighten more and more with worry. her sleep no longer came as it used to, and the feeling of calm that used to hover over her was gone. 

madja was well aware of your relationship with the older archeron sister, that she was not just a best friend but a sister.

so, why wouldn't you be talking to her? with none of them? 

•••

rita's was full as always — full of life, light, and music.

people danced while others drank and gamble. laughter, singing, and shouts of euphoria filled the air of the familiar bar. 

this has always been one of your favorite places to spend time with your family, not to mention that rita herself was a long-time friend.

good memories were formed on the dance floor with feyre and nesta, on the karaoke stage with mor, several shot battles with cassian that often ended with the two of you on the floor and too many card games with rhys and azriel where you took all their money.

whenever these memories surfaced, they warmed your heart and made you feel lucky to have these people by your side.

now, you felt nothing besides an emptiness in your heart, but at least your heart was whole again, and that's what mattered. 

you ordered your third drink of the night, and the moment you took the first sip, a deep voice was heard from behind you.

"can i join you, my lady?"

when you turned to find the owner of the mysterious voice, you couldn't hide the surprise on your face which you quickly replaced with a mischievous smile "well, well, well, look what the wind brought." 

your colorless eyes meet golden ones that belong to a male with fiery hair and a smirk that matched yours, displayed on his lips.

you let your eyes roam the male in front of you as you analyzed him. he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons open, brown pants where his muscles were visible and black boots.

"eris vanserra," you held out your hand for him to shake. instead, he grabbed it and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"lady y/n," he greeted, his eyes always fixed on yours. 

you let out a light chuckle as you ran your eyes over the male again as he took the seat next to you. "well, you look delicious." 

"i could say the same about you," he replied with a chuckle, and now it was his turn to look at your form.

you wore a simple black strapless dress that fit your curves perfectly with a slit in the skirt on your left thigh and a pair of silver high heels that matched your jewelry. 

eris ordered his drink, and after you hit each other's glasses with a small 'cheers', you asked him the question you wanted since your eyes had landed on him.

"you are far from home. tell me, what brings you to velaris?" you took a sip of your drink before continuing. "does rhysand even know you're here?" 

following your movements, eris took a sip from his own glass before putting it down, "i'm here because of him, actually. i had a meeting with him and his inner circle a few hours ago."  

"oh, and i thought you had come here just to see me," you said as you signaled the bartender to refill your glass.  

"that can be arranged," the heir replied as he took another sip without ever taking his eyes off yours. 

you cleared your throat after an unexpected heat warmed your cheeks. "i'm surprised he let you come here." 

eris chucked and turned around in his chair and faced you before resting one of his arms on the back of your chair. "i'm surprised i didn't see you at the meeting with the others. did you lose the invitation?" 

you let out a laugh as you tilted your head back slightly before meeting those golden eyes again. "nope, i just didn't want to go. those meetings bore me to death." 

eris's laughter rivaled yours and after losing yourself to the sound for a few seconds, you regained composure and found yourself saying to him "so, if the meeting ended a few hours ago, what are you still doing here?" 

the male stared at you for a few seconds and you noticed his smile weakened a little at your question but he was quick to hide it before answering you "maybe i wanted to see you before i left." 

"you mean you want to avoid beron." 

shock crossed the male's features, and when he opened his mouth to respond, you were quick to raise a hand towards him and stop him. "i'm an empath. reading people is kinda my thing, remember?" 

"right, sometimes i forget that," he picked up his glass again and turned it around a few times in his hand and this time he kept his eyes on the drink as he asked, "so, does that mean you've read me before?" " 

"yes." 

"and what did you read?"

"that this whole act of you being a bad, terrible and heartless male is just that — an act." 

his eyes finally meet yours, and you proceed. "that you care. that you love your mother and lucien more than you let on. and that you love your court and can't wait to get it out of beron's claws." 

"hm," eris leaned against the counter, and with a look of indifference on his face, he told you, "that's. . .accurate." 

a smile returned to your lips. your skills never failed you, at least not when it came to reading people.

"do you want to know what else i read?" 

eris gestured with his hand for you to continue, coming closer to the edge of your chair, you leaned slightly towards him before telling him "that you, eris vanserra," you placed a finger on his chest "you will be a better high lord than that terrible male ever was." 

eris swallowed the lump in his throat as you picked up your glass again and raised it towards him, making the heir follow your movement.

with a clink of glasses, you both drained your drinks, and a mischievous smile returned to your lips. "so, are you spending your night here?"

eris laughed, and as he placed some money on the counter for the night's drinks, he matched your smile, and with amusement in his voice, he asked you, "why? is that an invitation?" 

you added the same tone of amusement to your voice when you answered, "maybe." 

•••

you thanked the Mother that your aunt was working the night shift at the clinic and would only return in the morning. otherwise, this would be embarrassing — for her, at least. 

you walked up the stairs towards your bedroom with the male behind you. 

upon entering your bedroom, eris looked around, noticing that it was small but cozy.

a bed was placed in the corner with a wide window behind it, a bookshelf full of books on healing and romance novels was at the foot of the bed with an puff in front of it against the wall.

some paintings decorated the walls, several faelights lit up the small bedroom, and a desk was on the wall opposite the bed with a mirror on its side. 

what also didn't go unnoticed by eris was the pile of parchments you had on your desk.

"what's all this?" he asked as he pointed to it.

your eyes followed his finger, and you noticed  that the pile was now higher than yesterday 'madja must have added the ones that arrived this morning', you thought. 

they were letters from your friends. the ones they've been sending since you left illyria and have been avoiding them.

every day, new letters arrive — letters that you didn't even bother opening, let alone reading, so you collected them on top of your desk.

why? you still didn't know.

there was a morning when a letter signed by azriel was on the carpet at the entrance of your house — that one went right to the fireplace.  

with a shrug, you simply said "trash" and picked them all up and placed them in the trash can before leaning against your desk while eris sat on your bed. 

"you look different." the male's voice filled the bedroom.

"what do you mean?"

it was eris's turn to shrug before continuing, "you seem more. . .free." 

you chuckled, and as you ran a hand down your dress, you said, "i feel like that." 

there was a moment of silence, and you watched the heir as he looked at one of the paintings next to your bed.

your eyes fell on his body again, and with a thought coming to your mind, a feline look and smile took over your face. 

noticing the way you were looking at him, eris leaned on his forearms and shot you a bold smile. "what is that little head of yours thinking about?"

you laughed at his words, and as you approached him, you rested your hands on his thighs. "i have a question."

his smile grew even wider, and one of his eyebrows rose, and you took that gesture as your cue to continue.

your hands moved to his chest as you straddled his hips, "i want to know if what everyone says is true."

he placed his hands on your thighs and, in a whisper, asked, "what is?" 

you leaned into his chest and as you brushed aside his hair with your hand, your lips hovered over his ear "that the autumn males have fire in their veins and they also fuck like it." 

eris's body tensed beneath yours at your words, turning his smile into mischief, and the smell of arousal began to fill the small bedroom. 

"it's true." eris straightened up, taking you with him and pushed your hair behind your shoulders.

you intertwined your fingers in his fiery hair, and still in a low voice, you said, "i'm afraid i'm going to need proof," earning a few chuckles from him.

with a kiss on his neck and then another on his shoulder, you whispered, "why don't you show me?"

eris chuckled, and with his hands now on your waist, he murmured, "as you wish, my lady." before connecting his lips with yours. 

•••

several knocks on the front door woke you up the next morning. 

you let out several curse words as you went down the stairs only in underwear while you tried to button the white shirt that you stole from the male who was still sleeping in your bed. 

you only had time to button the last three buttons of the shirt before you reached the door and turned the handle to open it.

"oh, for caudron's sake," you ran a hand over your face before crossing your arms and leaning against the door. "what are you doing here?" 

the high lord of the night court was at your doorstep dressed in his usual black suit with his hands in his pockets.

"good morning to you too." rhys said with a look of indifference at your choice of clothing to open the door. 

 "what are you doing here?" you asked the question again. 

"you missed yesterday's meeting, and as you haven't answered any of our letters, i decided that perhaps it would be better to pay you a personal visit." he finished with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 

you ran a hand through your hair again before giving him an irritated look. "and you decided to come. . ." you stretched back to see the clock on the living room table "at seven in the morning?" 

"i went to the clinic, and you weren't there."

"today is my day off." 

he cleared his throat, ignoring the fact that your bra was showing, "why didn't you go yesterday?"

"i've been busy." it was your only answer.

rhys was about to speak again when someone's footsteps coming down the stairs reached both your ears. 

"do you have guests?" 

"she does, and he's really annoyed that you made her get out of bed at this hour." eris said as he stood right behind you in just his boxers. 

one of his hands went to your hip and the other to the door. “good morning, rhysand.” he said with a smile.

"eris." rhysand replied with an mask of indifference, but you knew that deep down, he was surprised to see him with you.

silence hung in the air as the two males looked at each other and you looked between them.  

the high lord broke the silence without taking his eyes of the autumn heir. "what is he doing here?"

with a shrug and an air of amusement, you replied, "eris wanted to see velaris."  

a laugh sounded behind you, and you joined him, and when you noticed the frustrated look of the male in front of you, you couldn't help but ask, "what? you don't like the view?"

"i can't say i do." rhysand answered with his eyes now meeting yours.

"well, that's a shame. maybe next time, think about letting me know you're coming before you show up at my door at seven in the morning." and with a fake smile dancing on your lips, you closed the door in his face. 

•••

madja continued to look at you from moment to moment, trying to understand you as she has been doing in the last few days without success.

you were working at the counter, updating patient charts, and you seemed so normal. It seemed like everything was fine.

but madja knew it was just an illusion.

the atmosphere between you was now stranger after her shift ended early, and she found you with a male on the living room couch a few days ago — not just a male but the heir of autumn.

you laughed at the situation while she didn't think it was that funny. in fact, she thought it was shocking, considering this had never happened before. 

her worry grew with each passing day. 

it was only when a letter from rhysand arrived at the clinic that morning informing that you were to appear at the townhouse for a meeting in the afternoon that the old female's heart relaxed for a moment. 

the high lord also took the time to explain in the letter that if you didn't show up this time, he himself would pick you up and carry you on his shoulder if necessary as this meeting was not optional. 

when you finished reading, you huffed and muttered a small "i'd like to see you try" before crumpling up the piece of parchment and throwing it in the trash can. 

you kept yourself busy at the clinic, and when the time for the meeting approached, you didn't bother finishing your work and going.

you simply continued doing your job and about twenty minutes later, when you returned to the counter, your eyes met violet ones. 

the high lord was now in front of you and with your biggest smile of innocence, you asked him "are you here for an appointment? or maybe you came to pick up some medicine?"  

rhysand faked a smile at your sarcastic comment — apparently you made a lot of those now. 

"where is your red-haired lover?" 

you looked down, and started looking in your pants pockets and when you finished, you met his violet eyes again before saying "not in here." 

The male sighed loudly and in a deep but calm voice said to you "the meeting started twenty minutes ago."

"i know," you said without ever breaking eye contact.

"and can you explain to me why i had to come here?"

with a hand gesturing around the waiting room where multiple patients were, you replied "as you can see i've been very busy. a lot of people don't have the choice to spend the day sitting around doing nothing." you finished by resting your head on your hands, which were on top of the counter. 

rhys furrowed his eyebrows, since when did you talk to someone like that?

at his confused look, you let out a dry laugh and, continued "i have no interest in going to the meeting, so i'm sorry you wasted your time in coming here, rhysand."  

"rhysand?" He asked dumbfounded as he saw you walk away from the counter and grab the next patient's chart before making your way to where a old female was seated.

he wasted no time in following you "since when do you call me by my full name?" 

you were quick to mutter "since you came here to be a pain in my ass" in response. 

and this was enough of a reality check to make the male stop in his tracks. rhys had received a letter from your aunt a few days ago informing him that you were different but he discard it since the events of that night were still recent. 

but now that he allowed himself to really look at you — he saw all the signs. not only in the way you were acting but also in your clothes.

you were always a warm and happy person and you reflected that in the clothes you wore with light and vivid colors. 

normally you always wore dresses or a skirt with a top as the days at the clinic required you to walk from one side to the other and that way you were more comfortable as you had explained once when cassian commented that you always looked like a princess. 

but now? now it seemed like the princess had been replaced by an evil queen.

leather pants covered your legs while a black strappy top was on your torso tucked into your pants and held up by a belt with silver details around your waist.

black high heels, eyeliner on your eyes and red lipstick on your lips completed the outfit.

you looked like a completely different person. 

'what the hell happened?' the question echoed through his mind before rhys gently grabbed your arm and turned you around.

he decided at that moment that this could — and would — be talked about later, the important thing now was getting you to the meeting. 

"y/n, we have a meeting to attend. let's go."

"i already told you that-"

before you could finish, rhys took the patient chart from your hands and handed it to a dark-haired healer that was passing by before crouching down and lifting you onto his shoulder with one hand still gripping your arm while the other reached around your legs to hold you. 

"rhysand! are you kidding me?" you said and started swearing as you hit his back with your free hand.

on your way out, both of you passed by madja and rhys assured her that he would bring you back home in a few hours.

the old healer felt more at ease knowing that you would be safe with your friends and despite the worry that filled her heart, she couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sight of you on the high lord's shoulder. 

maybe this was exactly what you needed — a night out with your friends.

hope replaced some of the worry that she had been carrying these last few days, that after tonight, you would come back happier.

you would come back as the niece she knew.

••• 

"seriously, rhysand? are you going to carry me like this the whole way?" you asked with annoyance in your voice.

"yes," a hint of embarrassment crossed the male's face at the use of his full name. 

several curses were muttered in a low voice as the eyes of the citizens of velaris focused on you and the male who carried you, one of your arms still trapped in his hand. 

some citizens looked curious while others laughed, but they all whispered about the reason for such a view. 

"rhysand, people are looking." you mumble with a pat on his back.

"i know," were his words as he sent smiles and slight waves in the direction of his citizens, as if this were some kind of show — one he was enjoying too much for your taste.

using his daemati powers, rhysand sent a message to his family — a message warning them to prepare themselves.

••• 

"well, this is a new view." you heard cassian's voice when you and rhys finally entered the townhouse's living room.

rhys stopped in front of the couches where his family sat, some of them with drinks in their hands, "sorry it took so long. i had to walk." 

a tap on rhys' back sounded through the room followed by a small murmur of "prick" coming from you. 

"hey!" rhys tried to scold you at the same time you said "does my ass look good from back there?"

rhys sighed loudly, earning a few chuckles from the people in front of him.

they had been talking about rhys's warning before you arrived but they couldn't deny that your actions were funny despite the situation. 

"was this really necessary, rhys?" feyre asked with a small smile gracing her lips.

"believe me, it was." rhys began to gently place you on the ground before rising to his full height again and placing his hands in his pockets. 

you turned to face the rest of your friends and managed to catch the surprise that crossed their eyes when they saw you in your new outfit.

"hello," you greeted them with a slight nod. 

"you're late, girl. did you lose track of time?" amren asked you while drinking from her glass of wine.

"no, i just didn't want to come." you replied before grabbing the glass of whiskey that cassian was passing to rhys and sitting on the couch between nesta and elain. 

nesta turned towards you and said softly, "i've been trying to talk to you these last few days." 

"i've been busy." you said while lookinh away.

nesta furrowed her eyebrows at your behavior. 

she had received rhys's warning just like the others but she really thought things would be different with her.

that even though you were different with the others, you wouldn't be with her and that she would be the person to go through you, just like you did for her a year ago. 

when you saw nesta opening her mouth with the intention of speaking again, you were quick to cut her off "so, are we going to start this meeting or not? since i was dragged here like a sack of potatoes." you mumbled the last part.

the high lord cleared his throat before beginning "i had a meeting with eris the other day. apparently beron allied himself with the human queen briallyn who in turn allied herself with koschei." 

"we need to know beron's plans are with this new alliance and that's exactly what eris is doing. i'm going to meet with him again in two days and that's where you come in, y/n."

at the mention of your name, you looked at the male who was already looking at you. with a raise of your eyebrows, he continued "i need you to come with me to the meeting and read eris. i need to know if he is being honest or not." 

you chuckled "why would he lie?" 

"he has lied before." azriel spoke for the first time since your arrival.

you looked at him with a cold look, and everyone else could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped when your colorless eyes met his.

"so have you." you didn't hesitate to respond.

you saw him flinch and stared at each other for a few more seconds before he looked away and you continued "so has everyone else in this room. except elain of course. perfect, sweet and innocent elain would never do that."  

you looked at the female with a fake smile and it was at that moment that you realized what was in front of you.

azriel and elain sitting on different sofas far from each other without any kind of physical or visual contact.

as you exchanged glances between the two, a smile began to form on your lips at the realization. 

lifting a finger you gestured between the two of them before trying to express your curiosity "what's wrong with the love birds?"  

when no one responded, it didn't take long for you to speak again. "trouble in paradise? oh, wait. i know. you finally remembered lucien." 

you saw azriel's jaw throbbing in frustration and as you were really enjoying this new view, you decided to continue.

you moved closer to elain and placed your arm around her shoulders before telling her loud enough for everyone to hear, "in my opinion, you should choose lucien. you know that rumor that autumn males have fire in their veins and also fuck like it?"  

you heard rhysand swear in the background, giving you a new smile and encouraging you to continue. "well, it's true. eris proved that to me the other night."  you winked in her direction. 

"y/n," rhysand called you out with his high lord voice. 

"what? it's the truth," you laughed and started to get up to leave.

upon seeing you get up, feyre was quick to gently grab your wrist and turn you towards her, she held your hand with both of her hands and said calmly "did you receive our letters?"

you looked at your joined hands before answering her "i did."

with a slight nod, she asked again "did you read them?" 

you looked at her and when you saw your friend's face, you let your guard down for a second and tried to read her emotions instinctively.

but then a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

azriel was filling his glass and in sight of the male, you remembered why you did what you did to protect yourself.

for that same reason, you moved away from her touch and with a cold voice you gave her the answer she didn't want to hear.

"no, in fact, i throw them away with the exception of your letter, azriel," you turned to the male who froze in his place with your voice addressing him, "i burned yours." 

and with that you started to make your way to the front door with Rhysand behind you to take you home, just like he had told your aunt, leaving your friends shocked without knowing what to say about this new version of you. 

cassian followed you to the door and stopped you before you could open it. "you never came back to the house of wind."

upon meeting the general's eyes, after your interaction with feyre, you realized for the first time that where affection and love for your friends used to be was now empty. 

"i moved out. i'm living with my aunt again." a shrug accompanied your response. 

"why?" He asked you. 

the truth is that you felt embarrassed. 

embarrassed about that night.

embarrassed that you cried in front of your aunt and your friends.

embarrassed that you fell in love with a male who had no interest in you.

embarrassed that you let a male make you feel this way, that you gave him so much power over your emotions.

embarrassed by how weak you felt. 

but not anymore.

now you feel nothing.

and that's exactly how you wanted it. 

you didn't bother to answer him before turning your back on him and disappearing into the darkness of the night with rhys by your side.

••• 

the office door opened softly letting the light of the faelights fill the hallway. 

feyre slipped inside before spotting her mate standing in front of the desk with a book that by the looks of it must be very old as he inspected the pages.

"what is that?" feyre's voice echoed through the silent office, making her mate's violet eyes meet her light blue ones.

"it's a book about rare powers, it has several chapters about empaths. i borrowed it from helion after y/n came to the house." he explained with his eyes returning to the yellow pages.

feyre laughed lightly as she recalled how her friend had arrived at the residence. "you mean when you had to carry her here?"

rhys tried to laugh but a weak smile was all he could muster. the small gesture did not go unnoticed by the high lady, nor did the concern on the male's face.

"you're worried about her, aren't you?"

with a long sigh, rhys stood up to his full height and faced his wife, "very, something happened to her and we don't know what," as he crossed his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall before continuing "she's different, she's insensitive and arrogant. that's not our y/n."

the last sentence made feyre's heart tighten a little — she felt it too. they all did and they all missed their friend. 

"did you notice the way she looked at azriel?" feyre asked, when she saw how you looked at the male, she thanked to the mother that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of it "it was like she never felt anything for him, like she hated him. It was scary actually."

rhys's eyes widened as the realization made its way through his mind. "like she didn't feel. . ." he muttered softly and approached the book again.

confused, the female approached the desk trying to figure out what Rhys had just realized, as he started flipping through the pages faster and faster.

feyre was surprised the pages didn't tear considering how old they were and how quickly they were being flipped through. 

"rhys?" 

the high lord stopped at a page and after reading it and rereading it several times, feyre heard his heart starting to race.

very slowly, rhys raised his head to meet his mate's eyes and with a low voice he finally revealed the reason for his reaction. "she turned them off."

"what?" 

his heart started to beat even faster "her emotions. she turned them off," rhys ran a hand through his hair making it even more uneven, "y/n turned off her emotions."

shock began to course through the high lady's body and she didn't hide it when she was invaded by it. "is that possible?"

at her question, rhys turned the book towards her and let her read the information he was still trying to process.

everything started to make sense.

"the way she talks, her clothes and the fact that she doesn't care about anything. . .all of this because-"

"because she doesn't feel anything." rhys completed for her.

as he opened his mouth to speak again, several knocks on the wooden office door interrupted him.

clearing his voice, rhys gave the order for the person behind the door to enter. 

it was quite late, with most of their family having gone to their respective rooms a few hours ago, but the couple couldn't hide their surprise when the person knocking on the door turned out to be Nuala.

"nuala? is everything okay?" feyre asked.

the half-wraith stepped forward and without revealing anything in her features, she replied "i'm not sure, high lady. i came to inform you that lady madja is in the living room and has asked to speak to the inner circle immediately."

even more confused than before, they both questioned why would madja be here in the middle of the night.

nuala continued "lady madja said it was urgent. it's about y/n."

at the mention of your name, two sets of chills went down the couple's spines and rhys was quick to give nuala a new order "wake everyone up." 

••• 

the inner circle met in the living room with madja among them.

rhys proceeded to explain what he had discovered about you just moments ago.

the book now sat on the old healer's lap as she reread what her niece had done with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

madja knew something was wrong with you but she would never have guessed that this was the reason behind it. 

"so, she doesn't feel anything?" nesta asked. 

if this matter had been about anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered to show her sadness but you weren't anyone else.

you were her best friend — her sister.

"yes," feyre said with a lump in her throat.

the room fell silent as everyone tried to process this new information. 

in the corner of the sofa, cassian blamed himself for not having noticed sooner and not having done anything to help.

elain kept looking around the room with the feeling she was being judged and azriel was rethinking all the signs you had given him that he hadn't noticed.

"it's no one's fault," rhys' voice caught their attention but his attention was only on cassian, "we had no way of knowing this without that book we wouldn't even know this was possible."

the general hadn't even realized that his shields were down but his brother's words brought him comfort. 

"what do we do?" mor spoke for the first time since entering the room "how do we get her back?"

hurt flashed across rhys's face and before he could respond, madja did it for him. "we can't," all eyes turned to her and for the first time since they had known the healer, they saw her cry.

"y/n is the only one who can turn her emotions back on. it's up to her and only her," with new tears falling down her cheeks she concluded, "there's nothing we can do." 

feyre placed a hand on the old female's shoulder. "i'm so sorry, madja." 

madja let out a long sigh and before she could hesitate any further she said "that's not all. there's a reason i came here tonight."

"what do you mean?" cassian asked.

"y/n's personality isn't the only thing that has changed."

the room became tense and several breaths were held.

"what's that supposed to mean?" amren asked and if madja knew her better, she would have sworn she had just heard a hint of fear in amren's voice.

"i've been trying to figure out why for several days but this. . ." she pointed to the book, "this explains everything."

with all eyes focused on her, the old healer begin to explain "a few days ago i put y/n to treat a boy's knee. she grabbed one of his leg and when she put it down there was a bruise in the same place her hand was. she assumed she just hadn't seen the bruise before but that was because the boy didn't have any. i was the one who sat that boy in the chair and the only thing he had was the wound on his knee and nothing else. i would have noticed the bruise if he had it." 

"what are you trying to say, madja?" rhys asked, he could feel that with every word the old female spoke, everyone became more nervous. 

"after the boy," madja continued, "she attended to a male who had ingested a poisonous plant by mistake. when she used her magic to heal him, he started spitting blood from his mouth and became very pale. y/n thought that the poison was stronger than she thought but when i came to help the male. . .i managed to cure him without any problems." 

"madja, what are-" nesta tried to ask.

"i think. . .," madja ran a hand through her black hair, "i think when she turned off her emotions, i think it affected her powers too. when I saw her trying to heal that male, her powers weren't emitted by a white light like all healers." 

mor's voice shook as she asked "what was it?"

madja stared at the blonde female before telling her "darkness."   

several curse words passed through the room, increasing the tension that was already in the air.

"i think y/n gave the boy that bruise and i think when she tried to take the poison out of the male. . .i think she ended up spreading it." 

"over the next few days, each time y/n used her powers to heal the patients. . .they all got worse. eventually, i had to put her to work behind the counter so she couldn't hurt anyone else."

this new revelation of your powers only made a bad situation even worse and much, much more dangerous.

it is already quite dangerous for a person not to be able to feel anything as this means that they cannot distinguish right from wrong just as they cannot understand when to stop but to have their powers changed?

amren set down her glass of wine before speaking "if you think about it it makes sense," she began drawing all the attention to her "when she turned off her emotions, she turned off everything that was a part of her, including her own person."  

"what does this mean?" nesta asked with fear on her face not only for what this could mean but also for you. 

azriel was the first to realize with amren's words being the last piece of the puzzle he needed  "mother help us. madja, you're not trying to say that y/n is now a. . ."

the male couldn't find the strength to finish his sentence but it wasn't long before cassian continued where he left.

"a what?" he asked, eyes bouncing between his brother and the healer. "she's a what?" 

with a long sigh, madja said "she is no longer a healer."

no one was prepared for madja's next words.

they didn't know what to expect when she came to their house in the middle of the night but they never would have thought of this turn of events.

they would never have guessed that their friend's pain was so deep that it would cause this to happen. 

"she is a necromancer." 

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @meul-a @mrsjna @avajustreads @littlelou22 @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @dark-chaos-314 @agirlwithwifiandalaptop

taglist fic: @crazylokonugget @quinzzelx @cumuluscranium @i-am-infinite @rcarbo1 @romantasyreader28 @thegreyjoyed @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sheblogs @amysangel @meher-sumedha @paleidiot @skylarkalchemist @thestartitaness @romanoffslegacy @bookwormysblog @sandramalikstyles-blog

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[meadowfics]

no free time

dad!husband!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mother!reader

apart of the kang family series

warnings: tiny angst, babies being babies

the soft hum of the baby monitor is the only thing filling the silence in the living room.

your large tv plays a movie neither you or your husband are paying attention to, the volume lowered to avoid waking the girls. you're curled up on the far end of the couch, a blanket thrown over your legs, while dae-ho sits at the opposite end, legs stretched out but tense.

it was supposed to be your night...the first in what felt like forever. the plan was simple:

put the kids to bed, watch a movie, maybe reconnect a little, but that fragile peace shattered the moment seo-ah screamed.

“mommy! there’s a monster!” your toddler's tiny voice echoes from down the hall, high-pitched and terrified.

you close your eyes for a beat, inhaling deeply through your nose before exhaling slowly.

“she was asleep ten minutes ago,” you murmur, rubbing your temple.

dae-ho gives you a look...equal parts sympathy and exhaustion...before standing up.

“i’ll go—”

before he can finish, byeol’s wail pierces through the baby monitor, sharp and heart-wrenching.

“no, i’ll get byeol,” you say, already untangling yourself from the blanket.

“she won’t settle unless i hold her.”

dae-ho hesitates, his shoulders slumping before he turns toward seo-ah’s room.

“we’ll figure it out,” he mutters, but the weariness in his voice betrays him.

it takes nearly half an hour to get both girls calm again. seo-ah clings to you, her little arms wrapped tightly around your neck as she refuses to let dae-ho near her.

“no, mommy hugs me! not daddy,” she pouts, her face buried in your shoulder.

“seo-ah, daddy loves you too,” dae-ho tries, but she only clings tighter.

you sigh, bouncing byeol gently in your arms as her cries soften to hiccups, while seo-ah clings to your waist.

“it’s just a phase,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for yourself.

when you finally settle back on the couch, it feels like the weight of the world has landed on your chest. byeol is in her bassinet, miraculously asleep again, and seo-ah is in her bed, though who knows for how long.

dae-ho sits next to you this time, closer, but there’s a space between you that feels cavernous.

“i miss you,” he says softly, fingers brushing against yours.

your throat tightens.

“i miss you too.”

he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, but the intimacy feels almost foreign now.

months of exhaustion, of putting the kids first, of barely surviving day-to-day...it all catches up in that moment.

“sometimes it feels like we’re just… roommates,” you admit, voice cracking.

dae-ho’s jaw tightens, but he nods.

“i know. i hate it too.”

tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away.

“when does it get better? when do we get time for us?”

he pulls you into his arms, his warmth both comforting and painful.

“soon. i promise.”

“you keep saying that,” you whisper, your hands fisting into his shirt.

“but when is soon?”

he hesitates before answering, his voice barely above a whisper.

“next weekend. jia’s coming to take the girls. for the whole weekend.”

jia = dae-ho's second oldest sister

you pull back, staring at him in disbelief.

“what?”

he smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness.

“i wanted it to be a surprise, but… yeah. just us for friday until monday. no kids, no distractions.”

something inside you cracks open...a mix of relief and overwhelming gratitude.

“dae-ho…”

he cups your face gently.

“we’ll get through this. i know it’s hard right now, but we’ll find our way back.”

you nod, tears finally spilling over.

“i just want us again.”

“we will,” he promises, sealing it with a soft kiss that feels like the first drop of rain after a long drought.

however, the days leading up to jia’s visit drag on. it is filled with the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones. mornings start the same, seo-ah padding into your room before the sun rises, her small feet thumping against the floorboards as she climbs onto the bed.

she squeezes herself between you and dae-ho, her warm little body pressing tightly against yours while shoving him to the edge.

“mommy, cuddles,” she murmurs, already curling into you, her hands clutching your shirt like you might slip away if she lets go.

you glance over at dae-ho, who watches with soft eyes but a tired smile. he reaches over to brush seo-ah’s hair out of her face, but she swats his hand away, her little pout forming instantly.

“no, just mommy.”

the rejection sits heavy between you, even though it’s become routine. dae-ho chuckles under his breath, masking the sting, but you see it in the way his shoulders drop.

“okay, princess,” he murmurs, voice laced with gentle defeat, “just mommy.”

byeol’s wail from her nursery cuts through the morning peace moments later, crackling through the baby monitor on the nightstand.

you sigh, your head falling back against the pillow, eyes closing for a brief second of stolen stillness before you’re back on your feet, seo-ah still clinging to your leg as you watch dae-ho get up from the bed and care for his youngest baby.

throughout the week, you and dae-ho try to carve out moments for yourselves when you can still. especially when the girls miraculously nap at the same time, a rarity that feels like winning the lottery.

one afternoon, the house is eerily quiet. you and dae-ho sit at the kitchen table, hastily throwing together sandwiches, both of you exchanging glances filled with the unspoken hope of just being together for a little while.

“this is nice,” you whisper, taking a bite of your sandwich, savoring the simplicity of eating without interruptions.

dae-ho reaches over the table, fingers brushing over your hand, thumb tracing slow circles.

“i miss this...miss us,” he says softly, eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth.

you smile, though it’s tinged with sadness.

“i do too.”

the reality of having young children.

as his hand tightens around yours, a shrill cry pierces through the monitor. byeol is awake again...crying so hard her tiny hiccups echo through the speaker.

you close your eyes, exhaling slowly as the moment evaporates.

“i’ll go,” dae-ho offers, already pushing his chair back. before he can stand, another scream rings out from seo-ah’s room.

“mommy! byeol woke me up! i was sleeping!” she yells, her voice filled with frustration.

you pinch the bridge of your nose, the brief peace crumbling around you.

“i’ll take seo-ah,” you mutter, already rising. the sandwiches sit half-eaten on the table.

the nights are harder. after hours of wrestling the girls into sleep, byeol fussing endlessly, seo-ah demanding one more story, one more hug...you and dae-ho collapse onto the bed, bodies heavy with exhaustion.

the unspoken plan was to finally be intimate tonight, since you guys haven't had sex in a while

now, lying there, the silence stretching between you, neither of you moves.

“I wanted to,” you murmur into the darkness, turning your head to face him.

“but i’m so tired.”

dae-ho is big spooning you, and his hand reaches for yours under the covers by your waist, fingers lacing through yours.

“me too,” he admits, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” your voice cracks, emotion bubbling up.

it isn’t just about the lack of sex...it’s about the emotional distance, the way life has swallowed both of you whole.

you feel his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

“it won’t be like this forever,” he promises, but it feels hollow, even though you know he means it.

“i know,” you whisper back.

instead of needed intimacy, you both fall asleep, hands still intertwined, the space between you filled with love and longing, even if it feels buried.

throughout each day, seo-ah remains glued to you, her possessiveness growing stronger each day. she watches every interaction between you and dae-ho like a hawk, her little brows furrowing whenever he leans in for a kiss or wraps an arm around your waist.

“no, stop it! that’s my mommy!” she declares one afternoon when dae-ho kisses your cheek in the living room.

she storms over, wedging herself between you two, her arms wrapped tightly around your legs.

“seo-ah,” you crouch down, brushing her hair back, “daddy loves mommy too.”

“but i love mommy more,” she pouts, clutching your face in her tiny hands as you sit on the floor.

“only i can kiss mommy.”

dae-ho lets out a soft laugh, though there’s a pang in his eyes.

“well, i guess i’ve been replaced,” he teases, but you hear the ache beneath the joke.

you sigh, pulling seo-ah into your lap while reaching for dae-ho’s hand.

“no one’s replaced, okay? we all love each other.”

your oldest daughter just nestles deeper into your arms, content to have you to herself while dae-ho watches from the side, trying to hide how much he misses having you for himself.

hopefully byeol isn't this possessive of you too.. he thought.

by the end of the week, the night before jia comes to take care of the girls... the exhaustion feels unbearable. the house is filled with the constant sounds of crying, laughter, and the endless demands of two little ones who need you both for everything.

you and dae-ho pass each other like ghosts, existing in the same space but rarely connecting, every moment focused on the girls.

you don’t realize how fragile you’ve been holding it all together until dae-ho comes into the room one evening, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and says,

“jia will be here to come get the girls tomorrow."

you nod,

"okay."

next part, "aunts and nieces," connects to the next morning from this moment (yes, smut will be in the next part)

[steddieas-shegoes]

slowly, then all at once

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "as he read, i fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once." from the fault in our stars by john green

rated t | 731 words | cw: nightmares | tags: pre-relationship, feelings realization, literal sleeping together, cuddling

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Steve’s nightmares aren’t a secret. The severity of them, along with the frequency, and how shitty he feels after, those are all secrets. Not even Robin quite knows how bad it gets sometimes.

The summer is worse: the memories of the Russians, the way the pool reflects off his window at night, the humidity clinging to his skin reminding him too much of the way dust and ash and mud clings in the Upside Down.

He feels stupid after spring break, that he should even still have traumatic memories when Eddie almost died. But he does. They’re worse now. He isn’t being tortured, Robin isn’t even in these ones. It’s always Eddie.

Eddie bleeding.

Eddie’s broken body.

Eddie not breathing.

Eddie dying.

It’s weird how quickly he took over Steve’s brain, how he went from being someone Steve barely knew from school to being one of his closest friends. Near-death experiences tended to do that, he supposes.

But it’s almost every night, and he rarely gets more than a couple hours of sleep before they hit, so he’s in a constant state of exhaustion these days. It’s not great for all the volunteering he does, and the usual taking the kids where they need to go, and trying to find a new job, and trying to convince Robin he’s fine. The bags under his eyes and the constant slump of his shoulders says everything.

She worries, but she knows he just has to get over the hump.

They all do.

Eddie stays with him late into the night a lot. It’s like he senses that being alone is the catalyst.

He finds excuses, tries to make it seem like he’s the one who doesn’t wanna be alone. Steve appreciates it, but he’s far past the point of feeling any shame for being afraid of being alone.

He doesn’t turn him away, though. Eddie sticks around for hours most nights, well past the point he should. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just turn music on and sit quietly in the living room. Eddie is always moving a little, fingers tapping, leg jiggling, head bobbing. It’s good, though. It’s nice.

And sometimes he lays down in Steve’s bed with him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t touch him, or really do anything more than just exist in the space while Steve closes his eyes and drifts off. He’s always gone when Steve wakes up.

Tonight, he’s got a book open and Steve’s curled up under his blankets. His bones ache from how tired he is, and he wonders if his body will ever get to the point where exhaustion keeps the nightmares away. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Not yet.

Eddie’s voice is soft, accents coming through for some characters, colorful inflections describing the scenery. Steve smiles to himself as his eyes start to feel heavy.

It’s nice to be read to. He doesn’t know which book this is, but it sounds like a dream.

Maybe he’ll dream about this instead of bats circling a body he loves.

Oh.

His eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, who doesn’t stop reading, even when Steve knows he can feel his eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing, to see Eddie so enraptured in a story that he’s probably read before, to see him still putting the effort into giving Steve a show even though Steve was mostly asleep.

He loves him.

Steve loves Eddie.

Not the way he loves Robin, or the kids. Maybe closer to how he loved Nancy, but even that didn’t feel quite like this.

This feels like a later sunset after a long winter, a fresh breath of air after being stuck in the Upside Down, a glass of cold water in the middle of summer.

It’s refreshing, and waves of calm take over his body.

He settles.

He reaches out, places his arm over Eddie’s stomach, curls his fingers into his shirt. He buries his face into Eddie’s side.

Eddie pauses for a moment, just long enough that Steve worries he shouldn’t have done this. But then one arm covers Steve’s body and he continues, voice softer but no less enthusiastic.

Steve closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, it’s calm. There’s no crying or screaming, no thrashing, no fighting.

Eddie’s there, holding Steve against him.

He loves him.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

(DOMESTIC) SANEGIYUU HEADCANONS

Sanemi is ALWAYS the one cooking

I’m sorry but I can only see Giyuu fucking up scrambled eggs or something. Sanemi cooks (or bakes) like a professional

Giyuu having a bedhead (he’s adorable) and Sanemi waking him up by either:

throwing a pillow on his face

running his hands through his hair and a “good morning, shithead”

One or the other, no in betweens

Sanemi usually does the chores like laundry, cooking, etc (malewife<33)

Giyuu can do things if given clear instructions tho

Hmm showering together just as a habit

If either of them were mad at the other (or they js fought) before bed, they’ll probably distance themself on the futon

When they wake up they’re always cuddling though

ouugh yes they share a bed

(it was so awkward at first like “ok… i’ll have this side” but then they got comfy and steal each other’s pillows (so romantic smh))

Sanemi definitely holds a longer grudge

Giyuu gets upset if he gets ignore too long, though, and Sanemi eventually caves

Why do I feel like Sanemi would just take pictures or videos of Giyuu randomly

When he’s asleep, when he’s just woken up, when he’s eating, doesn’t matter

Because Sanemi’s in charge of meals usually, Giyuu only gets salmon daikon once a week (which is already a lot as is, but he begs Sanemi for it so…)

Sanemi used to braid/put up his siblings hair a lot and when the two are cuddling, sometimes he makes little braids in Giyuu’s hair, or pulls it up in a high ponytail (often Giyuu wakes up with braids and his hair gets a lil wavy when he takes it out later)

Giyuu’s the baby in the relationship you cant change my mind. He’s the little spoon; he’s being carried because he’s tired; he’s given breakfast in bed.

Sanemi honestly doesn’t mind (he’s used to this) but likes teasing Giyuu about it

Giyuu has a bow of Tsutako’s (he stole a spare) and wears it to formal places always. (job interview? bow. prom? bow. work? bow.)

Sometimes Giyuu helps Sanemi hang up the laundry but they somehow end up hugging always (Giyuu goes on the other side of the clothing line and ThEIr lEgS juST mOVed By THemSElf)

On weekends, when there’s nothing to do, Sanemi will just scroll through his phone and Giyuu watching TV

Giyuu can NEVER not fall asleep during a movie though. depends on the day but he’ll either fall asleep 20 mins in or half way through

Sanemi doesn’t really watch movies and just slowly turns down the volume then off to not startle him awake

I can see Sanemi just volunteering to babysit for their friends (for free<3) and just having a box full of children’s toys for when they come over

Giyuu once overfed a baby to near sickness (“I thought her grabby hands were for more :(“ - “YOU IDIOT, SHE WAS TRYING TO PUSH AWAY THE BOTTLE!!”) and was thereafter forbidden to care for the children (unless they were older than, like, 12)

After a stressful day at work, Giyuu likes flopping down on the couch and having Sanemi run his hands through his hair and hum a bit, maybe small talk

I think Giyuu is actually an open book and horrible at hiding his emotions (like canonically as a child he was like that, only the deaths changed him sooo) whilst Sanemi is better at hiding things

But like after years of living with Sanemi/js being with him, Giyuu has been able to see small telltales

When he’s lying, Sanemi’s eyes flick every so slightly away (so subtly that only a few have caught it before), when he’s upset, he’s a little clingier or his voice is calmer (though many people interpret it as tiredness), when he’s angry but trying to stay calm he’ll probably have a lot of clenched fists (his hand opening and closing x100) but behind his back haha

Why can I see them both as dry texters tho.

Giyuu tries to sound more upbeat by adding emojis/emoticons but overall it’s basically just “Ok 😁👍❤️😋😚✨🎆🎉🎊🎏🍩🔥” // 😭 yeah he doesn’t have a lot of people to text…

I can also see Sanemi being a little old fashioned in a way, idk… He knows perfectly fine how to use a phone and shit but for some time mostly sent letters (except for casual/small talk ofc)

ok that’s it i can’t think of anything else anymore!!

[vrystalius]

Hello so i have been craving angst then fluff so can you write scenarios with the uppermoons x reader, after a huge argument that ended up with the reader walking away from the fight then locking herself in their shared bedroom,and when they come back after duties they find out that she cried herself to sleep with her tear stained and red cheeks, she wakes up and they make up then cuddle (The argument is huge but they are both at fault and they are both right it's just different point of view since they are demons and she is a human).

Arguments with the Upper moons

You and your s/o had a huge argument wich caused you to leave and later cry yourself to sleep. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro x reader

(Gyutaro doing his usual scratching on himself in his part, toxic-ish relationship in his part as well, angst in every part)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are mostly about how emotionally unavailable he is and how much Kokushibo refuses to speak about his feelings. He never elaborates on what he is thinking right now or what he truly thinks of you, this relationship and his feelings for you. You know that Kokushibo is mediating when he is not training, meaning he has plenty of time to think. Why is he never sharing his feelings? You always voice out loud how much you appreciate and love your husband, but he never tells you the same things. Only occasional dry “I love you’s” and some “I appreciate your presence’s”.

You try to tell Kokushibo about how you want to hear more from him and what he truly thinks of you. Sometimes, you feel like he doesn’t love you at all with the way he acts so coldly around you.

Kokushibo’s voice is stern and condescending while arguing with you. He only states the most obvious things and still doesn’t admit his true feelings towards you. This makes your heart ache even more than before. Seeing the tears form in the corners of your eyes made him scoff quietly.

“Why are you crying now? Did I hurt your “feelings”?”

That last comment made a wave of nausea wash over your whole body. Before you let yourself throw up onto his feet, you quickly rushed into your shared bedroom to hide your crying face.

You ignored Kokushibo’s demands to open up the bedroom door for almost one hour until Muzan finally ordered a meeting with him. Tears continue to stream down your face as you curled up into a small ball below the sheets. Your bed felt eerily empty without your husband beside you, but right now, you don’t want him here. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up by cold fingers brushing against your now dry cheeks.

After you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Kokushibo kneeling beside you and gently caressing your cheeks. His bottom and upper eyes were closed. It was his unique way to show that he feels safe and relaxed around you. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the gentleness in his touch.

“I… I should apologise for my words I spoke to you earlier. I did not mean to hurt you in any way.”

Kokushibo’s voice was deep and soothing. You could hear how hesitant he was about speaking like this. He barely ever shows his vulnerable side to you and insists to keep his guard up at all times. That is one of the many things why you two argue so much. He spend the last 500 years to perfect his fighting style and whole being. Even during his human years he forgot his own humanity, but around you, his emotions try to resurface. Your influence and affection make him softer, and in his opinion, weak. He does not want you to see him as weak, but that he is strong, powerful and a perfect being.

“Could you forgive me for acting so harshly? I do truly love you and I’d like to prove it to you.”

Douma

Douma’s lack of understanding of emotions cause a lot of arguments between you two. He continues to dismiss your feelings as just some silly moods you tend to have and never takes them seriously. Douma is listening to his follower’s woes all day every day, but he does not really pay attention to their words. He mostly zones out and then offers some loose advice based on some words he picked up while they continue to talk and talk and talk. He does the same thing with you.

When you try to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma has his meals in your shared bedroom and leaves behind a bloody mess and even some bodyparts. It’s disgusting, especially to you, who is a human. But all he hears is that he should send in a follower to clean your chambers after his meals. This was not the problem you were trying to solve, you were trying to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma eats humans in your bedroom, yet he doesn’t listen.

That isn’t even the most infuriating part. Besides him not listening to your thoughts, he sometimes mocks you for feeling emotional about it. It may be unintentional, but when you start crying during an argument, Douma sometimes giggles at your expression. It’s humiliating how hilarious he finds your crying face and in return it made you incredibly mad at him. Wich also makes him grin.

Yes, Douma may not grasp the concept of emotions, but you wished that he doesn’t dismiss them that easily.

During one of your arguments, you were trying to tell him about how you didn’t like how he disregards your emotions so easily.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You’re a silly human after all, your emotions are very entertaining to me!”

After Douma finished his sentence, you slapped your hand across his face as hard as you could. You knew that he will barely even feel it tickle his skin, but you wanted to demonstrate how infuriated you are with him. While your husband was trying to understand what exactly just happened to him, you already stormed off to your shared bedroom and made sure to properly lock the door. Additionally, you opened the blinds all the way and let the sun in to make sure that damn demon stays away from you for the time being. You cannot stand to see his smirking face right now.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying. There was only hoping that Douma didn’t see your tears running down your cheeks, or else he will mock you about those too, just like he does with every other emotion you have.

You fell asleep while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and with a pillow between your arms. Long after you fell asleep, someone started slipping the pillow out of your arms and sneakily replaced it with their own body. You tried to escape out of Douma’s arms, but his grip was tighter. His face was uncharacteristically and eerily neutral, not showing any emotions right now.

“I don’t really get emotions, you know? They’re always been foreign to me.”

His voice sounded distant and detached. Who is this man that is cuddling you right now? You kept staring at his face while he spoke.

“I never really felt them. They just weren’t there then I was born. I saw them on other people’s faces and had to learn manually what they meant.”

Douma’s cold fingers slowly brushed through your hair as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He remained in this position while he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I never meant it. You just confuse me with your emotions sometimes, but you also…kind of… make me imagine? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m trying to talk myself into feeling something, but when you’re around me, I feel something close to happiness. Or whatever that emotion is that I’m feeling.”

His eyes soften up slightly while speaking. You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

“But hey, you stopped resisting my cuddles~ does that mean I’m allowed back into bed? Would you be a sweetheart and close the blinds? You don’t wanna wake up next to a pile of ash, right?”

Akaza

“Stop worrying” and “toughen up” are things you hear almost every day from Akaza. He hates the weak and any sign of weakness, and since you are a human, weakness and vulnerability is a rather big part of you when you compare yourself to a demon like him. You can’t help but not being able to ignore the look he gives you everytime you either hesitate about something or try to explain your feelings to him. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes have this look of disdain in them. His jaw clenches and you can see the veins pop out a little. That look alone, intentional or not, makes you shut up quickly.

You never heard him say “I love you” to you before, ever. You tried asking him about it but all that resulted in him coming up with some weak excuse. All you wanted is for Akaza to tell you if he does really love or if he is just staying by your side for his own entertainment or pleasure. You just want him to say “I love you” at least once and admit his feelings to you, but he stubbornly refuses.

Akaza was trying to contain his anger inside him while you were talking about exactly that. His fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Until suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the wood beneath it, making you jump away.

“Why do you have to be so weak? All this crying and fucking feelings, they make you fucking pathetic and weak. I’m trying to protect you and you’re too blind to see it. I’m starting to think that protecting you was a waste of my time after all.”

Those words shattered your heart in an instant. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are just a waste of time to him, he has better things to do after all. He wants to become the strongest demon after all. This is the end of you two, isn’t it? You didn’t want Akaza to see your crying face and think even less of you, if that’s even possible, so you ran away into your bedroom and hid beneath the covers as if those will shield you from him and the rest of the world around you.

Tears ran down your face silently while you slowly fell asleep, but you woke up rapidly when you felt strong arms wrap incredibly tight around you. Your heart almost stopped in fear when you felt the familiar aura tightly pressing up against you, but you couldn’t help but begin to melt into his arms.

Akaza never was good with words. The words he uses are mostly intentionally and unintentionally used go hurt others, wich includes you. You felt how he buried his face into your neck and silently savoured your smell. His rough palms were gently rubbing up and down your waist, almost a little desperate to feel your skin again. He lifted his face from your neck and rested it right beside your head. His thick fingers carefully brushed through your hair.

“I should say it. You deserve it.”

You turned your head over to face him. You noticed freshly healed skin on his knuckles and all over his hands, leaving little room to guess what exactly he was doing while you slept. A nervous frown started appeared on his face. Akaza took a very deep breath before you listened to his shaky voice.

“I like you. A-A lot. Lots. Well, I-I really… uhm… Love you…I love you.”

Gyutaro

He always has been jealous, and always will be. Gyutato fears that you are going to leave him at any time and any day. That makes him incredibly clingy and protective of you and he refuses to leave your side, ever. He follows you around everywhere and tries to hover around you at all possible times. You had to convince that demon that you are perfectly capable to use the bathroom on your own without him needing yo stand right beside you. But after you finished up and left, you found Gyutaro crouched down beside the bathroom door, waiting and listening in case something somehow happens to you.

It’s incredibly tiring to have to be so careful around him. You fear that if you stray too far from him or disappear from his sight for too long that Gyutaro might start either slashing humans out of frustration or start scratching himself again. It’s mentally extremely weighing onto you. You tried to tell Daki about her brother and how stressed he’s making you feel, but she obviously takes Gyutaro’s side and shifts the issue back onto you.

“Well have you ever considered that my brother is just being very loving, hm? You better appreciate it you ungrateful human.”

Daki’s words did certainly not help you feel any better. She of course told her brother about you confiding in her, wich made Gyutaro almost seethe in jealousy and anger. That same night, you two had the worst argument yet.

You tried to tell him how suffocating he is while he is accusing you of not loving such a like creature like him. Your attempts at telling him how much you actually love and cherish him failed.

"No matter what you say or do, I-I’ll never be good enough for you...! You’re just pr-pretending to love me because you feel sorry for me…Deep down, you think I’m ugly, dirty and disgusting…”

The gut-wrenching sound of Gyutaro scratching his own skin open filled the silence as you stared at him. Gods, you had enough. You’re too exhausted to fight against his insecurities right now, so instead of continuing this useless argument, you stormed off into your private bedroom. After turning your back to him, you heard his nails tear through his own flesh and bones incredibly slowly and agonisingly.

You laid down on top of your large bed and faced away from the door, trying not to think about his words or the sound of Gyutaro’s blood gushing out of his flesh wounds. You were so concentrated on trying to think about anything else that you didn’t notice how you slipped into a deep slumber. You only woke up to the sound of bones cracking and crushing together.

Lifting your head, you scanned the space on the bed beside you. Empty. As you sat upright, you managed to glance over the edge of the bed, spotting Gyutaro being curled together on the floor. He looked like a very unnaturally bend puppy that wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. After calling out to him, he silently lifted his head to look at you.

Even looking at him caused a wave of nausea and guilt wash over you. Not a single inch of his skin was left unharmed by his own doing, and he seemingly refused to let them heal. His blood started to soak the carpet beneath him. Gyutaro slowly started to sit back upright, his spine cracking and breaking.

“Mh… mrrm.. am I-I allowed.. to la-lay beside you?”

💠

This took me multiple days to write so it may feel a little off. I loved writing this so much!! I always read the comments and reblogs, so don’t be shy to leave any! I appreciate every single one of you and the love you leave behind on my posts <3 I am currently working through my inbox, so expect more asks to be published over the week.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[adieutristana]

Okay, I saw your post, and I really want something with vi x caitlyn x reader with them getting into an argument, but It has to be hurt/comfort plsss<3

of course! thank you for the request <3

just as a disclaimer, i’ve never written for a poly relationship before… nor have i written a full argument. i tried my best, but if you have any feedback please let me know

summary: vi, caitlyn and fem! reader get into an argument.

characters included: vi, caitlyn

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, yelling, arguing, drinking, poly relationship, slight s2 spoilers

men dni.

caitlyn and vi have been… off.

‘off’ is an understatement. your girlfriend, cait, has been more and more ‘occupied’ with her work as of late. doors opening and closing in the wee hours of the morning, waking up without her by your side, without so much of a note indicating her location.

vi, on the other hand, has been falling deep into a hole of self-loathing and despair. depending more on the effects of liquor than the comfort of you or caitlyn. despite your efforts to get through to her, vi would consistently shut you out.

“i’m fine, honey.” she’d say, the smell of vodka potent in her breath. “don’t worry about me. just keep doing… whatever it is you’re doing.”

how did it get to this point? everything started off so well. you’d been together about six months now, the three of you deciding to go steady after realizing holy shit, you all had feelings for each other. you’d moved in together at around the four month mark, with caitlyn helping decorate, vi trying (and failing) to build furniture, and you actually building the furniture. it was a dream come true- at first.

caitlyn would be out until around eleven every night, but would never fail to greet you with a gentle kiss and a drowsy, “i missed you, love.” she would bring back gifts from her patrols, telling you she stopped at a street vendor and couldn’t resist the urge to treat her darling.

vi was spontaneous. sometimes going out for pit fights, sometimes trying to smooth things over with jinx for the millionth time, sometimes simply parading the streets of zaun to get some air. either way, she’d always leave a messy note on your bedside table informing you of where she’d be; or just invite you to come along with her. her ‘partner-in-crime,’ as she puts it.

you had your jobs, and they had theirs. it worked out. you worked out.

until now, it seems. you’re sat in your bed, neither of your girlfriends with you. the air tense and sheets cold. a million thoughts are swirling through your mind, your eyes darting around the room looking for some kind of purchase.

vi swings the bedroom door open, and stands in the doorway for a moment, hand against the doorframe. although you’re a bit far from her, you can’t smell any whiskey on her- that’s good. that’s a start. however, she does have a black eye and fresh blood on her arm bandages.

“god, vi, what happened?”

she sits down beside you in a manspread, leaning over her lap and shaking her head.

“don’t worry about it. just got into a fight with someone off their ass on shimmer.”

you sigh, and shake your head. grumbling to yourself. feeling your shoulders begin to tremble and your fists begin to clench. vi was like this, she got into fights frequently. but to come home injured, and then act like it was nothing? what had gotten into her?

“vi, tell me what happened.”

you demanded, looking straight at her. but the woman refused to meet your gaze.

“vi, you can’t just come home with a black eye and covered in blood and act like everything is fine- you know what? you’ve been acting like this more and more. and you come home wasted and pass out beside me without a word and act like nothing is wrong.”

you ramble, your tone growing more stern and more loud with each word. you’re working up a sweat. your brows furrowed and your gaze fixed on your girlfriend who still won’t look at you.

“(y/n).”

she grumbles.

she finally turns to face you. her eyes look blank and tired, her expression is completely lost on you for the first time possibly ever.

“i fight. that’s what i do. i do what i have to do to scrape by and make my money and protect myself- and you, and caitlyn. and if i have to pop open a flask every now and again to get through-

“every now and again?! vi, you come home shitfaced nearly every night!”

you gasp. did you hear her right? did vi actually just say that?

“it is not every night, and you know that. you and caitlyn are busy and i don’t have painkillers or anything else to take off the edge, what am i supposed to do? sit with my thoughts?”

“give me a call?”

you suggest. vi looks off to the side, her hands clasped and at a loss for words.

"what's happened?"

you jump back for a moment. still in her cloak stands caitlyn, stripping it off to sit beside you and vi. the tension in the air is thick and heavy... neither you nor vi wanting to discuss what had just transpired.

"you haven't been yourself either." you mumble under your breath.

although your knees are turned away from caitlyn and you aren't looking in her direction, she could tell who that was pointed toward.

"meaning what?"

caitlyn asks. cocking her head to one side the slightest bit- she seems to not take it to heart.

you slowly turn to face your girlfriend- azure locks tied back into a slick bun, her hair tousled from a hard day's work and dirt covering her carved features. it looks obscene in a way, to see the facade of perfection disturbed. but that's what you've come to love- and what you've come to miss.

"meaning... meaning that you're always home so late! and you don't tell me where you're going to be! i get that you're busy, you have a job to do, but you could at least not shut me out?"

"i'm not shutting you out, (y/n). i have a job to do. you know that."

she scoffs, but you can tell that she's trying to reassure you at least-

"apparently i'm doing the same thing."

"vi."

“what’s this about?”

“apparently i don’t let her in enough, and i’m a drunk.”

“i did not say that!”

“your drinking habits have become… concerning, violet. i won’t deny that.”

“so now you’re against me, too?! is that what you’re saying?”

“nobody is against you!”

“then you’re against caitlyn?”

you blubber trying to find words. your hands coming up to tangle in your hair and try to ground yourself. your voice is trembling and your heart is beating with the fervor of a war drum. how did it get to this point?

“i- look, can we please just talk about this, like the adults that we are?”

you manage to mutter.

“we are talking, (y/n).”

caitlyn sighs. her shoulders are tense and it sounds almost as if she’s holding in a breath, scared to say anything else.

“neither of you are listening.” a tear falls. your voice, your resolve… it’s so weak.

you can’t do it. caitlyn can’t bring herself to look at you, vi’s practically glaring through you, and each time you open your mouth, it feels like you’re wasting air. if they don’t want to hear it, they don’t have to.

you stand up from the bed to leave. your knees feel weak, threatening to buckle under you at any moment. but one foot in front of the other- you need to be anywhere but here.

neither vi nor caitlyn try to stop you.

✧.*

your feet hover above miles of nothingness. sat on a cobblestone wall in piltover, the sky hues of pink and orange and the cold temperatures nipping at your skin.

you came here to clear your mind. the sky and nature was always something that grounded you. the sun setting soothed your fiery nerves after… whatever had happened the previous day. you decided to stay out for the time being.

you just couldn’t bear to be in that apartment, not now.

“(y/n)?”

you hear behind you, so hushed. so quiet, it might’ve been mistaken for the wind by anyone else. but you recognized that rasp.

your knees came closing in, hugging close to your chest. you place your chin atop your knees and let out a sharp exhale.

“(y/n), i fucked up. we both did.”

before you could snap back about you having done nothing to deserve what happened last night, you felt a firm grasp on your shoulder. out of the corner of your eye, you could see those sapphire locks you had grown to adore. god damn it.

but your rationale betrays you. you feel your head turn ever so slowly over the same shoulder your girlfriend took, and look up at cait and vi. your eyelids heavy, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

vi swings a leg over the cobblestone. pressing her lips into a thin line and glancing back at caitlyn, then you. caitlyn opting to stand behind both of you, an intimidating presence. you wipe your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

"please, listen. i know i haven't been doing my part. to you, or to caitlyn. shit's just... been hard. okay? i don't understand what it is, but the drinking helps."

vi pauses.

"it doesn't help. it takes the edge off. but it isn't fair to either of you. so i'll try to let up, but cupcake-"

vi swiftly grasps both of your hands in her bandaged ones, rough callouses and healing injuries against smooth skin. taking on an almost pleading tone.

"you gotta give me time. this thing won't happen overnight, okay? but i never meant to shut you out. i'll tell you exactly where i'm at. call on me."

looking up at her, you notice the sincerity and warmth in her eyes. the way her thick brows are furrowed, the dark bags underneath those piercing eyes...

your shoulders relax.

"might i add," you hear from behind you.

"i also realize that staying out all day working like a hound isn't fair to you. it seems silly, in hindsight."

she scoffs, crossing lean arms over her chest. it's then when caitlyn finally sits beside you, opposite of vi, and leans down a sizable amount to rest her head on your shoulder. a sea of blue falling over your shoulder and chest, the girl on your arm softly humming.

"i appreciate it... really."

vi squeezes one of your hands, cait places a hand on your lap. neither look directly at you, but out at the night sky. now dark, ursa major front and center. as if it was there only for the three of you.

"no more arguing?"

caitlyn asks, honeyed voice just above a whisper. a press of soft lips into the crook of your neck.

"no more arguing."