#but both are afraid they might lose each other somehow...

[natequarter]

#I might be fully projecting but I read her as #I love my family but they’ve lost emotional vulnerability privileges #because they’ve proven they’re willing to hurt me if I let them #while fully believing it’s for my own good #idk that was just the vibe I got for her #like she hired an assassin network to protect her family #manufactured free medicine in her spare time #saved Shallan and tried to help even after Shallan backstabbed her #fought on the front lines because her men deserved that even though no one asked her to #was renarin’s emotional rock #but because she’s not constantly performing emotion people read her as a robot at best and a monster at worst

absolutely, all of this. to add on, i think it's slightly more than her family losing her emotional vulnerability: they've flat out lost her trust. she loves them - in fact she loves them a great deal - but she doesn't trust any of them (see: nearly murdering renarin; holding navani at a perpetual arm's length; never telling her relatives any of her plans), because she knows full well they can hurt her - her parents (well, navani at least; for some insane reason she looks up to gavilar) especially. jasnah has a great deal of reason to be paranoid - in the way of kings/words of radiance, she's nearly assassinated twice in close proximity, and shallan, too, betrays her. but that doesn't make her paranoia healthy; she's so wary of any kind of betrayal that she pretty much cuts herself off from any kind of close personal relationship. the closest thing she has to a human equal is fucking hoid, and they're both lying to each other near-constantly. and even her only constant companion, ivory, doesn't seem to have the same kind of deep understanding of jasnah that, say, syl has of kaladin. above all else, i think she fears losing control - which manifests in a number of ways, from fearing her mind betraying her, to fearing other people using her own weakness to lock her up again. and so she doesn't trust anyone, and no one can hold her back... which means she never has anyone to truly rely on, which is fairly damaging.

the other thing is... she is constantly performing emotion, but the emotion she's constantly performing is "none". she intentionally presents herself as cold, logical, and, to any outside viewer, emotionless. she rarely smiles. shallan herself casts jasnah's behaviour as a mask. most damningly of all, in a world where emotionspren are one of the first tells that this isn't an ordinary planet and there's some weird fantasy stuff going on? jasnah rarely, if ever, draws spren. pretty much everyone in this series draws spren. but jasnah barely attracts them, and when she does, she actually banishes them - she hides them from shallan at the start of words of radiance, it happens repeatedly in wind and truth, and she rarely seems to attract them in the first place. most of the main characters' trauma and coping mechanisms are fairly obvious - kaladin and his guilt/depression/ptsd, shallan and her dissociation/ptsd/plurality, dalinar and his ptsd/addiction. but jasnah's is far less obvious, because she hides her trauma from literally everyone. so no one sees it. it's very clear from the few chapters we get from her perspective that jasnah is afraid of her mind betraying her somehow and her past madness returning - she even empathises with the heralds over that exact topic of madness - and yet not one other person ever mentions it or brings up madness in association with jasnah.

jasnah is exactly as fucked up as every other significant character in this series. she just never shows it, because she's terrified of what will happen if she does.

jasnah's problem isn't that she doesn't understand other people's emotions. nor is it that she doesn't understand her own emotions. her problem is that she's categorically incapable of showing her emotions, and as a consequence is distanced from the emotions of the people around her.

and that's a coping mechanism. that is absolutely a coping mechanism, as surely as shallan's did or kaladin pushing through burnout or teft's addiction. they're all coping mechanisms to deal with a broken world. that's the trauma speaking. it's just not as obviously damaging a coping mechanism, because distancing is the whole point of it.

jasnah is what happens when you spend your childhood internalising that the adults around you will not take your emotions seriously. jasnah is what happens when you then decide they cannot be trusted with seeing you express your emotions. jasnah is what happens when you accept you can't ask for help.

do it long enough, and it begins to stick. you stop being able to express your own emotions because it feels like there's a physical barrier between yourself and the rest of the world. you stop being able to ask for help, even when your world's collapsing around you. and so people stop offering help. they assume you don't need it. and, often, they stop asking you to help them. they stop relying on you. you separate yourself from them to protect you - but all it actually does is scare people off.

and when you crash out? when one too many stressful situations burns you out, and you break down? when you have no choice but to show your emotions to the world?

no one will know how to deal with it. you're the strong one. the distant one. the one who doesn't have those kinds of problems. they'll be uncomfortable. they won't know what to say. you've internalised that they can't help you - so they've accepted that you don't need their help. being alone can only ever make you more alone.

it's a great way to slowly destroy your sanity.

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ unspoken

➤ summary: after a heated argument, Rafe is terrified he’s pushed you too far and that might actually lose you

➤ w/c: 1.6k

➤ warnings: allusions to sex, hurt/comfort, insecurities, fear of loss

masterlist

The room was only lightened by the bedside lamp, casting long shadows over the bed where you and Rafe lay tangled in the sheets. The air was thick with the weight of the situation. Your small argument, just a simple misunderstanding, somehow quickly took the wrong turn, and you both said things that you didn’t mean to.

You were fighting, pouring all the pent-up energy and exhaustion from work, and Rafe’s stubbornness didn’t exactly make it easier. It felt raw and vulnerable, and then suddenly it all led to you stumbling into your bedroom and ripping your clothes off each other. 

Your breathing was still heavy, and your body was still feeling hot and tingly from what had happened just a few minutes ago.

Rafe's chest rose and fell beneath the sheets, his arm thrown across his forehead as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't said a word since the argument in the kitchen, which was so unusual of him. His kisses and the way he touched your body weren’t in his typical longing and teasing way; they were angry, almost desperate. Now, there was a silence hanging between you, thick and almost suffocating.

And you knew that partly it was your fault. Blinded by the rage and hurt, you said something that you would’ve never said in the right mind. Something that you should’ve never used against Rafe, knowing his sensitiveness about this topic. But the words about you better get out of his life and you not even knowing why you were still there left your mouth before you could actually process it. 

You instantly regretted it. Seeing the sudden change in his face and eyes and the way his posture became more tense, another sharp reply died on his tongue. You wanted to say something else, soften the situation, but it was too late when Rafe dealt with the problem the only way he knew—he kissed you with all he had, not allowing you to say anything else. Pulling you flush against his body, he gripped the back of your neck until you answered him with the same energy. 

Your words felt like a bucket of cold water, and he panicked, knowing that it might be it. Rafe knew that sex was not a good way to solve a problem, but it was the only thing he thought he was genuinely good at. He wanted to please you, to beg you to stay, so he led you to your bedroom, even if he felt empty inside, even he couldn’t say anything out loud because of the lump in his throat. 

Now, as the argument faded away, when it all seemed too stupid to even argue about, it was weirdly uncomfortable. Rafe’s mind was spiraling. He was too scared to even look at you, too afraid that the simple move or word might push you to get up and actually leave.

You slowly turned onto your side, as if afraid to make noise in the dead silence of your bedroom, your heart pounding with guilt and worry, unsure of where to even begin. You could feel the emotional distance between you two, and it stung. Rafe wasn’t usually the type to get vulnerable or emotional, yet you knew that he took everything too close to his heart. This time, something had shifted in him, and it left you unsettled because you were the reason. You could feel his presence next to you, but it was different.

Slowly, you reached out and laid your hand on his chest. He flinched, but then, after a moment, his hand covered yours, squeezing gently and letting out a shaky breath. He didn’t say anything, but the tension between you was palpable.

"I didn't mean it." You whispered, your voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you think that was the end. I just… I was angry, and I didn’t know how to say what I really felt. But I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to leave you." You stopped for a second, noticing the way he clenched his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a beat before Rafe finally moved, turning to face you. His eyes were raw and tired, and there was a certain despair in them that made your heart ache. He reached up slowly, his hand trembling as he gently traced your cheek with his fingertips, as if trying to reassure himself that you were still here and that you weren’t slipping away from him.

“I thought… I thought you were done with me.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotions. “I thought I’d messed up too much, that I’d pushed you too far. And I couldn’t take it, I couldn't imagine not having you in my life.”

You felt his breath hitch as his thumb grazed the corner of your mouth, his gaze softening with a mix of relief and still-present fear.

“Oh, Ray…” You said gently, reaching up to cup his face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve never pushed me too far. We fight, we argue, but I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I love you too much to just walk away.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them away quickly, but it was too late—you saw them, the rawness in them that he was trying so hard to hide.

His chest tightened, and he exhaled shakily, a sob escaping him before he could stop it. He pulled your still naked body close, burying his face in your neck, his hands gripping you like he was afraid if he let go, you’d vanish.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, sneaking one hand around your waist to find some comfort in the feeling of your skin on his. “For being so difficult and stubborn. I don’t know how to be better. I don’t know how to make you understand how much you mean to me.”

You held him tighter, your hand running through his hair as you soothed him. “You don’t have to be perfect, Rafe. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long while, you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms. The anger had faded, replaced with something deeper, another level of trust and vulnerability that were new for your relationship. With how hard it was for Rafe to open up and express himself, it was a big step, and you wanted to do everything in your power to make him comfortable.

Rafe still wasn’t entirely sure of himself, but you could feel him beginning to trust in your words as his body relaxed against yours, his breath slowing. His hand never left your face, his thumb still tracing the curve of your cheek like he was trying to memorize every detail of you.

“I was so scared.” Rafe murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. “I thought I’d lost you... and you’re my entire word.”

You felt his breath warm against your skin, and your heart ached at the tremble in his voice. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your fingers brushing the stray hair from his forehead. “You’re not going to lose me, Rafe.” You said softly, your voice carrying all the reassurance you could muster. “Not tonight, not ever. I promise.”

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line like he was trying to hold something back. But then he shook his head, his blue eyes locked on yours, glassy with unshed tears. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in my life. I don’t know what I’d do if you—”

You didn’t let him finish. Leaning in, you kissed him deeply, your lips catching his in a way that was tender but still confident enough to show that what you said was true. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his grip firm like he needed this connection to anchor himself. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as the weight of the moment settled around you.

“You’re stuck with me, Rafe Cameron. And don’t think that you can get rid of me this easily, even if you’re annoying me sometimes.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, shaky and uncertain, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “Good.” He said, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I could handle it any other way.”

You smiled, your hand smoothing over his back in slow, comforting strokes as his body began to relax against yours. He exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, the tension that had gripped him loosening with every beat of your heart.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore; it was warm and allowed you to finally fully enjoy the presence of each other. Rafe pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there as if savoring the moment. And as the hours stretched on, the night wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you both were too lost in each other to care about the outer world. 

For the rest of the night, words became unnecessary. Instead, there were soft kisses, quiet touches, and the unspoken promise that no matter what, everything is going to be okay. Wrapped in his arms, you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace.

[xxeatualivexx]

BUCKY BARNES FIC RECS PART 1

First time doing something like this for Bucky! This is part 1 but it is still being edited (I can't find some of the fics I like)

Remember to read the warnings and tags before writing!

NAVIGATION

SERIES

TRILOGY

Five Seconds, Five Years Apart, II, III

Angst - Bucky Barnes proposed just days before the world ended — afraid he might never get another chance. Then he vanished in Wakanda. Five years later, he’s at your door — unchanged, while your whole life has moved on. Some love survives time. But what happens when life doesn’t wait?

DUOLOGY

Praise (1.7k), Cloud Nine (4.7k)

Fluff, Smut - Bucky realises he has a praise kink after getting a tattoo. | Bucky is dating a modern woman. He didn’t expect you to get him high, though.

Traces of a Lonely World (3.2k), Final (7.3k)

Angst, Suggestive - bucky's job takes him away from you more that he cares to admit. most of the times you can understand, but there are some nights it tears you apart.

Before I Could Say It (5.9k), After I Was Too Late (10.1k)

Angst, Fluff - The three times Bucky almost confessed his love to you, and the one time he finally does. | The three times Bucky saved your life, and the one time you save each other.

Lovefool (18k), Juno (14.8k)

Fluff, Smut - James Barnes is a terrible congressman, hence Sam sending you to be his assistant. You keep him on a tight leash, and you both do a horrible job at hiding your feelings for one another. Add jealousy and alcohol to the mix? what could possibly change? | In the early stages of your relationship with Congressman Barnes, you swore he was kidding anytime he mentioned the idea of being his wife, however, it is apparent that he wasn't kidding. It's also obvious that there's nothing more that you want in the world.

ONE-SHOT

Exactly Like You Said (0.5k)

Smut - You and Bucky Barnes have always had that thing—the kind of sexual tension everyone sees coming from a mile away. Every sparring match somehow ends the same way: your thighs locked tight around his head, pretending it’s just part of the fight. But today, Bucky decides he’s tired of pretending. One snarky comment turns into a moment you can’t take back—and don’t want to. He pins you to the mat, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and shows you exactly how long he’s been thinking about this.

The Same Thing (1.4k)

Angst - during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why.

In the Mood (1.5k)

Angst, Fluff - He tells himself it’s fine. 

Gotta keep moving—bigger things to do, too many items on his list.  His libido doesn’t even crack the top ten. 

Until he met… you.

Never Been Kissed (1.5k)

Fluff - You've never been one to kiss and tell.

Take Me Home (1.7k)

Angst, Fluff - the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york

The Cost of Sides - (2.0k)

Angst - You and Bucky seem to be on opposite sides.

Cry For Me, Sweetheart (2.1k)

Smut -  You always cry when he bites you. It’s not pain, not really. It’s too much your system overloads and Bucky can’t help himself.

Even If You Forget (2.1k)

Angst - After a mission gone wrong, Bucky loses all memory of his relationship with you. Though heartbroken, you patiently stay by his side, offering gentle support and quiet company. Despite the emotional distance, you hold onto the hope that someday he’ll find his way back.

Kneel (2.1k)

Angst - The three times Bucky kneeled for you, the heartbreak the ensued.

Smitten (2.3k)

Fluff - Sam finally meets Bucky’s girlfriend, though you’re not who he thinks you are. 

The Stupid One (2.3k)

Angst, Suggestive - your breakup with bucky had all been his fault. he got scared and called it quits. and he regretted more than you knew. but he’d never admit that to you. at least, not while sober.

Birds of a Feather (2.5k)

Fluff - You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Love Me or Leave Me (2.6k)

Angst - You loved him deeply. But loving him started to hurt. And Bucky? He saw it coming—he just couldn’t stop it.

Out of Time, Into Our Lives (2.7k)

Fluff - A teen girl suddenly appears at the Avengers compound claiming to be from the future. While she tries to avoid revealing too much, she accidentally and subtly drops hints about her life, her siblings, and the deep bond she shares with you and Bucky Barnes both.

Oh, My Love, Side to Side (3k)

Angst, Fluff - After a successful yet traumatizing mission, you dream of losing Bucky for the first time in years. In a fit of panic, you call him. He answers. Not the phone, but the call your heart makes to his.

What You Don't Know (3.2k)

Angst, Fluff - You and Bucky are sent to find Joaquin, causing you to finally get to know each other in the process.

Put My Mind at Ease - (3.5k)

Angst - You return home from a successful mission with plans to have a pizza night with Bucky- but things go awry when an injury rears it’s head.

Open Wounds (3.9k)

Angst, Fluff - Due to an open wound, Bucky seems to hate you. And no matter what Sam does, nothing seems to change. Until you and Bucky have a heated exchange that ends in a way neither of you had been expecting.

He Still Smelled Like Home (4.1k)

Angst, Smut - A missed anniversary. A quiet goodbye. And then a metal arm shielding you from death. You were always his. Even when you weren’t.

Pink in the Night (4.5k)

Smut - Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Hotel Mishap (5.1k)

Angst - you and bucky can't go five minutes without wanting to slam each other into a wall, so when you're forced into a hotel room with only one bed, years of unresolved tension and bruised pride boil to a breaking point.

Man in the Woods (5.1k)

Angst - Bucky pulled the trigger to save a mission—and lost the only person who made him feel human. Years later, Sam finds him deep in the woods, still living like she’s beside him.

What We Never Said (5.3k)

Angst, Fluff - You weren’t lovers. Not really friends either. Just two people who found something sacred in the silence between them—until he left.

Get Around (6.1k)

Fluff - After going on a date with Bucky, Sarah realises they're better off as friends. So she does the next best thing: sets him up with you, the Wilsons’ childhood best friend. 

How You Get The Girl (7.7k)

Angst, Fluff - you thought you’d ruined everything by loving him. but that was the moment everything finally made sense.

Nine Lives (9.4k)

Smut - Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

When It All Falls Apart (8.1k)

Angst - The fate of the universe was in your hands. Bucky and you had been sent to retrieve the soul stone, a seemingly simple task. Unbeknownst to you, there was a hefty price to pay for such an exchange. You’re able to return to Earth, but it’s soon apparent part of you was left in Vormir.

Mercy Kill (10.6k)

Angst - After Bucky gets hurt on a mission, you’re forbidden from visiting him in the medbay. When you finally get to speak to him, things go differently than you expected.

(i only came to this) party 4 u (11.4k)

Angst, Fluff - For the first few months you worked with the avengers, they barely knew you. Beyond what you were like during a mission, you were a mystery to them. It was truly marvelous how well you worked with the team and yet there was so little they knew about you. 

You barely went to team bonding and you NEVER went to Tony Stark's parties. Well, not until last night. And you’re never going again. 

Because of James Bucky Barnes.

Lost in the Wild (12.9k)

Angst, Fluff, Smut - It was supposed to be an easy mission. In and out. But then communication went out. The intel became useless. The weather turned horrific. Bucky lost his gun. And then, you.

Come Find Me (13.4k)

Angst - Bucky cant wait for you to return from your mission. But when your partner comes back without you, it’s up to Bucky to bring you home safe.

In the Woods (13.5k)

Angst, Smut - He left you behind to keep you safe, but safety never stopped the heartbreak. Now, a year of grief, silence, and sleepless nights unravel the moment he shows up at your door with his new team—bruised, breathless, begging. You’re angry and he’s sorry, but the love is still there. It always has been. 

Meet Me Halfway (15k)

Angst, Fluff - Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

A Thousand Times Before (16.5k)

Angst, Fluff - Bucky travels to an alternate universe for the sake of a mission. But he doesn’t expect to come face to face with a version of you that loves him, completely and openly. Back in his own world, he is left with a truth he can’t keep to himself anymore.

SHORT FICTIONS (drabbles, prompts, requests, blurbs, etc.)

Bucky’s cock being so fucking big he teases you about it (0.1k)

Smut

Bucky giving you backshots (0.1k)

Smut

Bucky Barnes taking you from behind and talking you through it, kissing your neck (0.2k)

Smut

Thick Arms, Slow Grind (0.8k)

Smut

Shut Up (0.9k)

Smut

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter four

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: jack’s feelings for you grew in the dusk. then, a whispered incident shatters the stillness, and he realizes too late that something’s already broken.

⤿ warning(s): none

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 1.8k

Jack first saw you exactly four years ago during shift‑change—him coming in for the ER night grind, you stalking out after twelve hours in Surgical with three lunch boxes stacked like ammo. Two interns are nipping at each other’s heels until you raise a single finger; the quarrel dies in mid‑air. He watches, amused, then watches again a few minutes later when those same interns turn up in the break room wolfing down a mouthful of poppy-seed muffins that smell like pure comfort.

“Who baked that?” he asks.

They point after you with crumbs on their cheeks and fingers: a hard‑headed nurse from Surgical.

He notices you in passing—but the meeting comes much later, high above the noise.

It is barely dawn, once again shift‑change o’clock. As usual, he takes the stairs to the roof for a hit of cold air before plunging into his ER night. You are already there, arms folded on the railing, watching the river steal the first light. He almost turns back, but you don’t glance over, and the quiet feels too good to waste. So he stands a dozen paces away, breathing steam into the sky. Neither of you speaks. Five minutes later the freight elevator clangs below and you disappear down the stairwell, a ghost in gray.

That becomes routine: his night beginning where your day ends, both of you claiming the same ten minutes of sky. At first it is silence—two strangers dividing the dawn. Then a nod. Then, on a morning whipped by sleet, you mutter, “Coffee? Again?” Jack snorts, raises his styrofoam cup, and admits it is sludge. You offer no sympathy, only a sideways grin that feels like permission.

Conversations creep in. You talk about nieces who mail you science‑fair photos, about Jack’s improbable knack for fixing malfunctioning IV pumps, about cilantro storage and the best pierogi on the South Side. He learns you feed residents and med students like stray cats. You learn his leg squeaks in the rain and he deals with it by over‑tightening the socket and cursing under his breath. That way, the roof becomes neutral ground, a borderland between the hospital’s fluorescent chaos and the city’s slow river.

Jack falls for you in increments—not all at once, not with fire, but in the way late sun warms cold bones.

The first time is maybe a dry joke you lob over your shoulder in passing. The second, the way your eyes soften when a helicopter banks in low, shadows flashing across your face as you pause mid-chat. And after that, it’s everything.

He hasn’t let himself feel something like this in a long time. Not since… and even that name, even the memory, doesn’t ache like it used to—but it has left behind a hollowed-out space where nothing has taken root since. There have been flings, sure. Company here and there, something easy and understood, but nothing that lasts beyond the night or the need. He hasn’t wanted anything to last.

Until you, that is.

And so, he begins hinting—carefully. A stupid pun scrawled in the margin of a half-finished sudoku you’ve been grumbling over all day. A couple of lumpia he manages to snag—somehow, without losing a limb—from Princess and Perlah’s fiercely guarded monthly stash. A quiet confession, offered one chilly morning, that sunrise feels less sharp with company. Each gesture small, deliberate, afraid that pressing too hard might crack the quiet, steady rhythm you both come to rely on.

Because the roof has become necessary.

And still, he can’t lie to himself: the feeling scares him. The possibility of caring again, of wanting something that can’t be controlled or triaged or explained—it unmoors him a little. But it also makes him feel alive in a way he hasn’t let himself feel in years. You make the hours between dusk and dawn feel less like a stretch of survival and more like something to look forward to.

And that… that is terrifying. But it is also good. Very good.

Then, four dusks in a row, you don’t show.

On the eve of the fifth night, he types a message he doesn’t plan to send: Haven’t seen you on the roof. Everything okay?

Ten minutes tick by before your reply arrives: I’m alright—just busy. See you tomorrow?

Something is off, and it isn’t the hour. He fills his thermos anyway and snags a terrible slice of cafeteria pound cake—knowing you’ll roast him for it if you ever find out—and promises himself that if dawn doesn’t bring answers, he’ll start asking better questions.

For now, he simply shoots back: Works for me. Sunrise tea?

And you, a simple but earnest confirmation: Sunrise tea.

Jack can be reckless, but war zones and widowhood have taught him this: when the strongest person in the room starts acting skittish and absent, you step closer and keep watch—especially if the room is a rooftop at sunrise, and the person is the nurse who once turns five minutes of shared silence into the best part of his day.

. . .

He arrives at the hospital, stepping through the double doors with his usual resolute gait, one hand hooked casually under the strap of his tactical backpack. His expression is calm, composed, shaded by that habitual, guarded optimism he wears for years.

But something is off.

It’s not loud. In fact, that’s what makes it strange. The usual din of residents bickering over charting, wheelchairs squealing across tile, interns nervously chugging coffee—muted. Not gone, just… held back, like the The Pitt is holding its breath.

Jack’s eyes scan the room, already sharpening beneath the calm. He catches sight of Dr. Ellis—one of his best senior residents—cutting across the ER with purposeful steps. Not rushed, not panicked. But something close to tight. Her face is unreadable, grim where it’s usually brisk.

“Jack,” she says as she reaches him. No Dr. Abbot, no pat on the arm, no idle quip. Just a quiet, urgent gesture for him to follow. “Come with me for a sec.”

His brow lifts, but he doesn’t ask questions. Not when she’s looking like that.

They weave past triage, through a set of doors into the cramped staff room. The door clicks shut behind them, and instantly the world narrows. The light feels a little too bright. The hum of the fridge too loud.

Jack leans against the counter, arms folded, expression even. “Alright,” he says, not unkindly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Parker doesn’t answer right away. She shifts, visibly uncomfortable. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just that rare, uncertain edge Jack only sees when things are about hit the fan.

“Something’s wrong up at Surgical,” she says finally. “Trauma Surgery, specifically.”

Jack doesn’t move, but his gaze sharpens. The inside of him goes still. You work Surgical long enough that his mind jumps without permission.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice steady. “Is it about a patient? A case?”

Parker shakes her head. “No. It’s personal. It’s… her.”

She doesn’t say your name. She doesn’t have to. The second she says it—her—Jack knows. The knot that’s been building for days, through missed rooftop meetings and clipped, careful texts, cinches tight, pressing into his ribs like a vice.

Of course he’s heard the way people talk. The way the nurses elbow each other when he walks past. Even Parker, just now, had paused like she expected him to flinch at the mention of you. 

But Jack doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t correct anyone, either. Let them talk.

It’s not that anything’s happened—not really. Not yet. But something’s there. Has been for a while now. He just doesn’t have the time or energy to pretend otherwise.

His jaw ticks, barely. He fights the instinct to reach for his phone, to scroll through that last short message—just tired—and see if it reads any differently now.

“She’s been dealing with something,” Parker continues, lower now. “Something bad. I don’t know the whole story. Not really. Nobody does, I think. But… word’s spreading fast.”

Jack doesn’t breathe, but he listens.

“She broke down in the middle of her shift. Not just a bad day. Panic—real panic. Security got called in. So did Gloria.”

The weight of it settles hard. He turns his eyes to a crack above the microwave. It’s been there for years, a small fracture in cheap cabinetry, but tonight it looks like a fault line.

“She alright?” he asks.

Parker gives a vague nod. “I think so. But here’s the thing—no one’s talking. I mean, not even the nurses.”

That gets his attention.

Parker goes on. “You know how they are. They could tell you what kind of gum a new hire chewed three floors down before HR finishes onboarding. But this? They’re locking it down. Close. Fierce. Like they’re closing ranks over her.”

Jack runs a hand down his face, slow. Subdued, yes—but not at peace.

“Do you know why?” Jack asks, voice low and even.

Parker hesitates, then shakes her head. “No. Not really. Just bits and pieces. Like I said, no one’s giving the full story. Not even the nurses, and you know how they are—usually you can’t get them to stop talking. But now? Radio silence.”

Jack watches her carefully. She’s being honest. He can tell.

“I can poke around,” Parker offers, almost reluctantly. “Ask some questions, feel out what’s being held back—if you want.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just exhales, slow through his nose, as if weighing what kind of damage that might do. His fingers drum once against the thermos in his hand. Then he shakes his head, once.

“No,” he says. “Leave it. Maybe it’s not for the best.”

That stops her cold. She studies him, really looks—and the silence between them sharpens.

Because Jack never says leave it. Not when someone’s in trouble. And the line of his jaw, the way his shoulders lock down… that’s not calm. That’s containment. Worry wrapped so tight it’s just short of boiling over.

She doesn’t press. Not now.

Jack straightens, but his expression doesn’t change. If anything, it stills into something harder. More focused.

His name hasn’t come up, and that almost bothers him more. If you’d talked to someone—anyone—why not him? And now that’s too late. The missed rooftop meetings, the clipped texts, the careful way you said “I’m just tired.” It all slides into place with a sickening click.

He tugs his backpack strap a little tighter over his shoulder, eyes distant but burning behind the quiet.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he mutters. “Let’s get to work.”

Parker only nods. She doesn’t add or ask another thing.

And when they walk out of the staff room, there’s no storm in his step, no rush in his pace. But the tension radiating off him—quiet, coiled, dangerous—is enough to make two med‑students step out of his way without a word.

Something’s wrong. Someone’s hurt you. And someone else is going to regret it.

divider credit

[billiesleftboobie]

Morning glow

Billie eilish x reader

Summary: A gentle morning with Billie filled with emotion and confessions

Warnings: Just pure fluff and some kissing. Tell me if i missed something :)

a/n: Somehow blonde Billie reminds me of soft mornings and sunrises so it inspired me to write this small fic :] I hope you enjoy!

The morning breeze chilled my skin through the open window. My eyes flutterrd as I felt the glimmery rays of sunlight kiss my delicate features. My face was pressed into the soft pillows and an arm was draped around my waist, holding me tightly aginst another body.

I could feel the warmth of her breath hit the back of my neck and a yawn escaped my mouth.

Billie stirs softly behind me, mumbling something under her breath before her lips press to the back of my neck.

"Good morning sweet girl"

I giggle softly as Billie keeps pressing light kisses along my neck before trailing down to my shoulder. I could feel her smile aginst my skin, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through me.

"Good morning..." her voice was still laced with sleep as she spoke.

I slowly turn around to face her. Billie smiles at me sleepily, her eyes were still slightly drooped as I observed her features. There was only pure love written into Billies gaze.

Billies hand reaches to brush a strand of hair from my face as I stare into her eyes softly.

"Hi my baby" I say.

If I could choose I'd never let these gentle mornings with Billie to end—wrapped in each other's presence, tucked under soft blankets, bathed in the glimmery glow of the morning sun and laying in a room filled with warmth.

"Lets just stay in bed all day" I mumble as I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck.

Billie lets out a laugh, and  wraps her arms tighter around my body. I'd never get tired of hearing her laugh.

"You sleepy girl.." Billie says her voice thick with affection. Our bare legs are tangled together beneath the plush covers, both of us in nothing but big t-shirts.

A deep sigh leaves my mouth and I snuggle my face into Billie's chest. "I love you.."

Before I can even stop myself those words slide out of my mouth. I can feel Billie tense up slightly—but not for long—then a gentle hand threads through my hair, caressing the back of my head.

"I love you too.. so much"

Her voice is light full of softenss, but the weight of those words fill my heart to the brim. A deep warmth settles in my chest rushing through my entire body.

She truly loves me.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to say that.." Billie exhales.

I lift my head from resting on her chest, my brows slightly furrowed. "Then why didn't you say it?" I ask my voice laced with gentlesness but also a hint of curiosity. I search Billie's eyes for some sort of reaction or an answer.

Billie's eyes aren't meeting mine before she exhales in a shaky voice "I was scared" her voice is vunerable.

"Scared?" I ask. "Why were you scared my love?" I ask again, cupping Billie's cheek and lifting her face so she would look at me.

Billie's eyes flicker down for a moment before meeting mine again. Her mouth opens ready to speak but she hesitates for a moment "...maybe I was afraid of your reaction. I was scared that you might not feel the same and things would shift between us. I was afraid of loosing you and I- I can't lose you."

Billie's words hit me like a comet smashing down to earth. "Why would you ever think I wouldn't feel the same way? Billie you mean the world to me and I'd never let you go.. I can't let you go"

Before I've even notices it a tear is sliding down on Billie's cheek. My thumb brushes that tear drop away. "Trust me Billie I was a bit scared too. I was afraid that saying it out loud to you would make it so real.. and I'd have something to lose. Something that I couldn't handle losing."

My voice weavers little and my lower lip trembles but I keep going "but in this moment I felt so safe and so truly comfortable that I couldn't stop the words from slipping out"

Billie chuckles and leans into my touch, closing her eyes and letting those words settle deep into her chest. She leans in to kiss me, so softly, so caringly.

Her lips move gently aginst mine like a promise that neither of us have anything to be scared of anymore. As we pull away I rest my forehead aginst hers, my eyes still closed and our breaths mingling between us.

Billie's hand cups my cheeks gently "so no more being scared?" Her voice is calm and reassuring.

"No more being scared" I repeat her words. Billie's arms wrap around me again. Her warm body close to mine feels like home to me.

I tuck myself deeper into her embrace. A deep sigh of relief leaves my body knowing we wont have to hide love beneath fear any longer.

a/n: this is a bit corny but I hope you guys liked it :) Also feel free to send any requests or just talk to me!

[musingsofheaven]

MORE THAN ENOUGH.

girl dad!art donaldson

fluff. sfw. fatherhood. emotional vulnerability. gentle ⠀ ⠀ parenting. domestic moments. ♡

Dad!Art Donaldson who… nods and hugs Tashi quickly when she said she’s pregnant, and Art immediately kiss her forehead after he wrapped his arms around her. Tashi swears she heard him sniffing and tear up after she said the news.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… stares at the ultrasound picture like it’s some trophy he won at the Open. (It is probably one of his biggest achievements now.) He doesn’t say anything the whole car ride home, just holds the printout with both hands like it might fall apart.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… is nervous as hell even though he tries to act he’s not in front of his wife. He immediately reads three books on pregnancy and childbirth in two weeks. When Tashi makes fun of him, he just shrugs. “I like being prepared.” (He’s scared shitless.)

Dad!Art Donaldson who… goes to every appointment. He’s always present, making sure that Tashi won’t feel that she’s alone in this journey. Sits quietly in the waiting room. Reads the brochures she doesn’t look at. Nods through every conversation about options, bur quickly look at Tashi because it’s still up to her and he’s just there to mostly support her.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… doesn’t talk to her belly in front of other people, but alone? He’ll whisper “Hey, it’s Dad” like he’s afraid the baby won’t recognize his voice unless he starts now.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… doesn’t cry when Lily is born. Not really. He just stands there. He looks awkward. Quiet. Staring. Completely undone. He was in the processing state when he heard her cry. Someone hands her to him and he holds her like she’s not real. Like he has no idea how he got this lucky.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… loses full matches because he’s so sleep-deprived from taking care of Lily because he insists that Tashi should rest especially when she’s in postpartum stage. He forgets his own warmup but remembers which pacifier is her favorite.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… carries her on his hip like second nature. He likes holding her. Even though he have tennis bag on one shoulder, toddler hanging off the other, keys in his teeth, somehow balancing juice and a diaper bag without saying a word.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… lowers his voice even more when she’s upset - not louder, never that. He just sighs. Smile. Speak at her without anything changing. Just soft. He kneels. He waits. He says “Are you mad or scared, sweetheart?” and lets her point before she finds the words.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… ends up on the floor playing tea party with one knee up and a tiara around his neck. He let Lily dress him up, put things on his head or face while sipping invisible tea with absolute seriousness. He’s not pretending. He’s in it.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… plays “where’s your nose?” like a coach running drills. He’s smiling all the time when Lily get it right. “Where’s your elbow? Your foot? Your brave face? Show me your brave face.”

Dad!Art Donaldson who… baby proofs the corners of the coffee table but not the edges of his racquet bag because he thought it’s safe. One day finds her trying to climb into it, whispering, “Me play tennis too.” He has to sit down because he almost had a heard attack from that.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… reads the same book eight nights in a row (it’s her favorite) and voices all the animals differently each time. She starts correcting him. “No Daddy, the bear was sleepy voice!” and he laughs so softly it hurts.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… carries her to the car after she falls asleep in his lap. Lily’s whole body flopped across his chest, drooling on his shoulder. He can’t help to smile when he looks down at her like she’s the first good thing that ever happened to him.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… once had his whole life planned around courts and rankings and medals (which still is, but it ranked below from his priorities now) but now, the best part of his day is hearing her yell “DAAAADYYYYY” when he walks through the door.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… lets Lily crawl into his bed in the middle of the night, no questions asked. He’ll cuddle her when Lily hugs her. He doesn’t complain even when she kicks in her sleep or drools on his shirt. Who adjusts her stuffed animal without waking her, and place it between them while he sleeps half-on his side just so she has enough room to sprawl.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… never tells her no when she asks to paint his nails, and doesn’t bother to wipe it off before a press conference. He smiles when reporters ask. Says it’s lucky. People smile and loves the way he’s sharing this moment to them.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… eats the weird breakfast she makes for Father’s Day without blinking. Telling she’s the chef of the house even it’s runny eggs, burnt toast, lukewarm juice and speaks again after he finish it, saying it’s the best meal he’s had all year. And means it.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… still buys Tashi flowers on Mother’s Day and put the classic “from Lily,” no matter how things are between them.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… reads every bedtime story like it’s strategy review. With his steady voice, but somehow she falls asleep faster when it’s him. Like it brings her comfort. She doesn’t even care what book it is. It’s the way he smells like soap and laundry. The way his voice never gets loud. It’s gentle in a way he’s cooing her. The way he always pauses before turning the last page.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… lets her press stickers on his face during phone calls or when him and Tashi is watching the reply of his match. Who ends up with a glitter Hello Kitty on his cheekbone and doesn’t notice until she points it out. He keeps it on anyway before he laughs with Lily.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… speaks gently, even when she’s screaming. Just nods at her, listening to what she’s screaming about. Who squats down to her level when she’s upset, says “I need you to breathe with me,” and holds out his pinky until she wraps hers around it. He brings Lily’s hand in front of him and kiss her knuckles and thank her for talking to her even she’s upset. He never yells. Never raises a hand. But when he says “That wasn’t kind. Try again,” she listens.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… doesn’t make her say sorry first. Don’t let the heat between him and his daughter for too long. Who apologizes when he’s wrong. Who teaches her that strength looks like accountability.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… is not always perfect, but is always gentle. That’s what he’s proud of. He’s always steady. Always learning how to love her better than he was loved himself.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… tears up, genuinely, shamelessly when she tells him, “You’re the best at hugs.” He hums ⠀ and kiss her forehead when he tucks her in and whispers, “Happy to be your dad,” just loud enough that she might hear it in her dreams.

Dad!Art Donaldson who… watches his daughter sleep under those green projected stars and thinks, If this is all I am now, it’s enough.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[ironcade]

johnny & a kiss of desperation

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here. 

It had started out as most nights do following a return home from a long op. Since none of the team really had much to return home to, besides Kyle, everyone got together to decompress at a local bar off base. It was a dingy place, one that a lot of soldiers went to. Almost felt like a second home at this point.

Now usually, it was an easy night. Some drinks were shared, stories told, and any attempt was made to forget the horrors left behind in the field. However, something had been off the entire night.

Well, more specifically, Johnny had been off the entire night. He was more sullen, quieter and to himself. Every so often he might throw out a quip, but he seemed trapped in his own thoughts. Every so often he’d send a glance your way, you noticed. Once he’d meet your gaze, his eyes would dart away, as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

However, you didn’t really say much at the time, not sure this was really the place to interrogate your teammate. You tried to enjoy your drinks at least, chatting away with Kyle about his plans to surprise his partner. Yet, your eyes always ended up on Johnny, concern eating at your insides.

Once the team returned to base, you finally confronted Johnny. You stopped him in front of his room and softly asked, “You alright?” His soft blues met your gaze, his expression twisted with some unspoken thought or emotion. 

That was how you found yourself stumbling into his room, lips clashing with his in a desperate hunger. The taste of whiskey was on his tongue, probably what was fueling this impulsive and emotional moment. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to really care as Johnny gently herded you into the safety of his quarters. 

Sharp inhales and gentle moans escaped the two of you as passion took over. Johnny’s hand gripped to your hips, tugging you close to him. It was almost like he was afraid you might disappear if he lost even a moment of your touch against him. 

Eventually, a moment of clarity struck and you pulled away. You opened your eyes and took in the sight of the handsome Scot panting softly. His eyes were gazing down at you with a turbulent storm of emotions present in them. Finally, he opened his mouth and found words.

“When you stopped respondin’ on comms,” he started with a slight quiver to his voice. “I thought…” he swallowed, his gaze staring at you with such intensity. “I thought the worst.” 

There was a moment of silence as you took in his words. “Johnny,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I realized then and there that I couldn’t lose ya,” his tone was firm. “Not without ya known’ that I fuckin’ love ya.” The sincerity of his declaration hit you like a freight train. 

You inhaled sharply and your eyes widened, freezing up entirely as you processed this. The reality that Johnny had somehow fallen in love with you during your time together seemed particularly impossible. Yet somehow, here you were. Words were beyond you, though it seemed. How does one respond to something so brutally honest and vulnerable? Especially when you hadn’t given yourself a chance to ponder that maybe you could have Johnny in the ways you desperately wanted. Although, the alcohol in your system did not help.

Instead, you tightly wrap your hands around the collar of his shirt. You then yanked, bringing him to you. Passionately, you kissed him again. This time, it was in an attempt to convey the feelings you could never speak of. Your lips mashed against his with an aching affection. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before you felt him return the kiss. 

As you two clung to each other, seeking solace in feelings that had gone unspoken for a long time, a silent desperation was found. Love had blossomed among the death and destruction that was your life. One that both of you are scared to pursue, but even more terrified to lose.

[john] [kyle] [simon]

[junwhispers]

I wanted to write some Naruto men headcanons for some time now and I finally did! It was so much fun.

It's emotional fluff 💜 sfw, Naruto men x reader

Letters from Naruto men - they need to confess or they'll lose you

Characters: Kakashi, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Gaara, Naruto

Kakashi

Y/N,

I’m incredibly sorry I left after you told me how you felt. I’ll understand if you never want to see me again.

I’m a coward, nothing more. I got scared and run away. Not because I don’t feel the same — but because I do.

If there’s still a chance to talk to you… please message me. Anytime.

And I’ll try to make everything up to you.

Yours,

Kakashi

--------‐-----------------------------------

Sasuke

I heard today that you’re leaving.

No, of course I won’t try to stop you. And I know damn well you’re too proud to confess anything to me.

I’ll never send this letter — so this paper will be the only one that knows the truth.

I realized a while ago that I love you.

At first, I thought it was just physical — I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Every time we touched, it felt like my skin was on fire. I couldn’t concentrate when you were around.

So I tried to isolate myself from you. And it only got worse.

I kept thinking about where you were — and with who.

Maybe you remember that one night when we ran into each other at a bar — I saw you laughing, looking beautiful, surrounded by men. I left immediately, even though you saw me and tried to call out.

I was afraid I’d lose it.

And then came the moment I’ll never forget — when your team was sent on a mission and I heard you’d been critically injured.

I don’t even remember what I said or did. My mind went blank, and somehow I got to the hospital.

I didn’t leave your bedside.

And I made everyone promise not to tell you I’d been there.

Since then, I’ve known: you’re my greatest weakness.

And I have a feeling you might feel the same.

I noticed how your face lit up when we talked. How you always picked the seat next to mine. How you asked my friends about me when I wasn’t around.

And I remember that long conversation, when you said you could never make the first move.

I suspected — maybe that was your first move.

And I let you down.

It was hard to watch your smile fade. But I thought it was better that way.

And now you’re leaving. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Maybe I should be glad I won’t have to see your future with someone else — I’m not sure I could take it.

I guess this is goodbye, even if you’re not supposed to read it.

Maybe someday I’ll stop thinking about you.

Sasuke

Found this letter and sent it to you. You’re both idiots.

— Naruto

---------------------------------------------

Shikamaru

Y/N,

I know everything. Ino told me.

She said I’d be a dumb fuck if I let a girl like you go.

Well… I agree.

And that’s the only reason I’m writing this.

I like you.

Y/N — I’m not a romantic. I thought you knew that. I don’t have much patience or experience with this kind of stuff. But if it’s that important to you — fine.

I think you’re smarter than most people in this village. I like being around you. You don’t annoy me — most of the time. And I think you’ve got a really nice ass.

Including the ass.

…I’m teasing. You’re beautiful.

What do you think? Did I do okay?

So if we could stop playing games, that’d be great. This whole thing is giving me a headache.

Then meet me after training.

Shikamaru

------------------------------------------------

Gaara

(Written on official Kazekage letterhead)

Y/N,

After a few sleepless nights, I came to the conclusion that I need to write this letter.

It might surprise you, since I know I’m a reserved person — some even call me cold.

But that’s not exactly true.

At least, not when it comes to you.

I’m not sure I’m capable of expressing these thoughts properly, but I’ll try.

It’s difficult to put into words someone as extraordinary as you.

You are more than your beauty — though I’ve never seen anyone who could make a desert sunset look dull in comparison.

You are more than your intellect — though every time we speak, I learn something new, gaining a perspective I couldn’t see on my own.

You are more than your kindness — though I’ve never met someone as empathetic, generous, and thoughtful.

I love you the way night loves the moon.

I need you like a shadow needs the sun.

I’m forever yours,

Gaara

--------------------------------------------

Naruto

Y/N,

IT’S SO STUPID THAT I CAN’T JUST SEE YOU.

I’m really not good at writing stuff like this.

But Sakura yelled at me and said I had to do it the right way.

Listen — when it comes to some things, I might not be the brightest.

I mean, yeah, I’m one of the greatest shinobi of all time, future Hokage, etc.

But turns out I can be completely blind when it comes to the stuff that actually matters — until it’s too late.

And by the stuff that matters, I mean you.

(Sasuke helped with that sentence. But I meant it.)

I can’t lose you. Now I see I took your friendship for granted. I missed all the signs, and I probably ruined my chance to be with you.

But I’m not giving up.

I’ll show you what it’s like to be adored by Uzumaki Naruto.

Sakura said I shouldn’t deliver this letter in person and should wait patiently for your reply.

…But I’m not listening, hehe.

See you soon, Beautiful.

xx Naruto

[wonybi]

Akaashi Keiji || Love in Destruction

I did not proofread this oops, might be a little ooc but I just love Akaashi so so so so much I can't

Slight Angst!! Fluff!!

Akaashi Keiji was fed up to say the least. He has had enough and is so close to losing it, which is much to his dismay as he prides himself in his patience and ability to analyse a situation. You however made it ever so hard for him.

See, Akaashi was not a dumb man, he knew you liked him and he knows for sure he is desperately in love with you too. He's done everything right, makes sure to take you out on dates when you're free or need a break, he made sure to be there for you and help you with anything you needed, he planned the dates, picked you up and made sure to drive you home every single time, would leave sticky notes on your textbooks with reminders and compliments. He notices and remembers every little detail about you, your favorite movies, songs, colours, the type of material you look for when shopping for clothes, the brand of stationary you use, how you don't like certain foods cause the aftertaste lingers a bit too long for your liking. 

He knows you like he's known you all his life. He's done all these things for something who he isn't even dating, but he's more than happy to because he loves you. He knows you love him back. Which now poses the question, why won't you date him? You have feelings for him, he has feelings for you, it just makes sense. So why won't you let him fully in? Why are you pushing him away?

This is what he's going to find out today. Akaashi is waiting outside your lecture hall at this very moment, fiddling with his fingers and anxiously counting down the minutes until you leave. His head snaps to the door as he sees people leave. Then he sees you, and unfortunately for him you see him too. What Akaashi didn't anticipate was you bolting out the halls. 

Trying to outrun Akaashi was a stupid idea though, as a former high school athlete he would easily catch up, and he did. Both of you were panting as you made it to the other side of the campus, catching your breath.

"I thought you said you were unathletic," Akaashi said, with a breath between each word.

You stayed silent until a bottle of water came within your view. You mumbled a thank you before drinking from it. 

Akaashi just silently stared as you chugged the water down. 

"Please don't run away again" He said, his voice soft, vulnerable, afraid that if he said the wrong thing you'd actually run away again.

"Can I ask? Did I do something wrong? Do you just not like me? If you don't I can leave y/n. Just let me understand you…" he said, each word coming out more desperate than the other. 

"I don't know… it's stupid, it's a long story. I don't want to take up your time anymore than I already do"

"For you I'd give all the time I have in the world, and not a single second of it would be a waste."

You sigh and look away. "You're too good for me"

"I'm not" Akaashi deadpans "But even then, you deserve good, more than that. What's the problem"

"My ex… when we started dating was the nicest man ever. But eventually we fought a lot, I tried to accomodate what he wanted and changed for him if it meant I could keep him. He left anyway, and I was a mess" 

Akaashi didn't know where this was going, but listened anyway.

"But that wasn't enough, somehow turned all my friends against me. My closest friends viewed me as a nuisance, I had no one to turn to for comfort because they all thought I did something wrong. I had no one. When I thought everything was fine, when I rebuilt those friendships he came back, and I let him yet it somehow became worse than the previous. I lost two years of my life, giving and trying for a man who only wanted me when it was convenient for him.  He told me I had no self respect, I was a chore, that no one wanted to be close to me because that's where the problems began"

Akaashi didn't even notice how hard his fists were clenched, how his fingernails were pressed so hard against his skin that it would surely leave a mark. But he noticed how yours were.

"Then I noticed it didn't start from just him, yes he ruined my life but it wasn't just him. Those friendships I rebuilt, I don't even talk to any of them now, because if I don't reach out they don't either. I apologized countless times for things that aren't even wrong and I never heard an apology from anyone in my life. Not from my friends I grew up with, not from the girl I moved to this city with." 

Your rant came to an abrupt stop as tears started rolling down your face. You used the sleeves of your sweater to quickly wipe them away, head down, not wanting to look Akaashi in the eyes. 

"I try so hard for everyone in my life. I try to play this picture perfect role but it's never enough Keiji.. and I'm so tired. Everyone just sees the worst in me and I don't know what to do about that"

"Do you believe what they say about you?" Akaashi asked, not fully knowing what to say.

You shook your head

 "I'm different from before…" you said, your breath steadying. "My point is… you're nice Keiji, really nice to me. You do everything perfectly and you just are. I don't want to get in the way of whatever you want to do with your life"

"That's not it" 

You lift your gaze, snapping out of whatever slump you were in, your confused eyes met serious blue ones.

"That's not it… that's not the reason" Akaashi stated. "Some people may not think you're smart, hardworking or kind, but I know you see that in yourself. You just confirmed that when I asked if you believed what they said. I've seen you work, you get stuff done, you make sure to take care of yourself and you do make time for important people in your life. How could you possibly get in my way, in fact I want you there with me— "

"I don't think I can love without destruction" you blurted out, cutting Akaashi off.

"What?"

"I don't think I can love without destruction" you repeat. "You're so good to me Keiji, and overall such a nice person… I'm scared that I'm like cursed or something.. that I won't ever be able to love or experience a love that doesn't destroy me. Cause that's what life has been proving to me so far."

A silence enveloped the two of you, despite the birds chirping in the air, the cars and bikes passing down the busy road not too far from you guys, the sound of students rushing out the building on the other side, all the both of you heard was silence.

"There will be destruction" 

"What?"

"There will most definitely be destruction, if you let me," Akaashi repeated. "Let me destroy that ideal for you, and I know just my word's can't prove that. I am more than willing to chase you towards the ends of the earth, destroying everything and everyone who will get in our– get in your way. Let me destroy your fears, your bad ideals, all those negative thoughts you have of yourself."

You just stood there, speechless as you stared at him.

"Destruction doesn't always need to be a bad thing… And I can show you that…" Akaashi said softly, his hands finding yours, his thumbs rubbing the back of your hands. "There will most definitely be destruction, but only, only if you let me"

[kaylovestwd]

How being in a relationship with Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes would be:

(prison era)

The Protector: Rick Grimes

Rick, even after everything, retains a core of decency and a need to protect. Being with him is like having a constant, warm shield. He carries the weight of leadership, but with you, he lets that burden ease, revealing the gentle, loving man beneath. He isn’t afraid to be vulnerable with you, sharing his fears and doubts in hushed whispers under the cold, unforgiving stars.

Rick's love is a flame that burns bright and true. He may not be outwardly romantic in a flowery way, but his devotion is unwavering. Expect strong, comforting hugs, a hand always reaching for yours in a crowd, and a fierce protectiveness that makes you feel utterly safe, even when walkers are clawing at the fences. He sees you, truly sees you – your strengths, your weaknesses, and the beautiful spirit within.

Rick will always include you in his decision-making, valuing your input and trusting your judgment. He sees you as an equal, a partner in this crazy world, not someone to be sheltered. He needs your strength as much as you need his. Together, you face the impossible, and somehow, you find the will to keep going.

Don’t expect grand gestures, but cherish the small moments. A shared smile across the yard, a gentle hand brushing hair from your face, a quiet evening spent mending clothes together while listening to the soft snores of the others. These are the moments that weave the fabric of your love with Rick. He might leave you little notes, maybe a flower picked from the small garden Hershel tends, or a drawing done by Carl.

The Silent Guardian: Daryl Dixon

Daryl, initially, may seem like the least likely candidate for romance. He’s gruff, closed off, and haunted by his past. But underneath that rough exterior lies a heart of gold, fiercely loyal and deeply caring. Earning his love is a slow burn, a gradual process of trust and understanding.

Daryl isn't one for words. His love is expressed through actions. He'll bring you a rabbit he hunted, silently ensuring you get the best portion of the meager rations. He’ll stand guard while you sleep, his crossbow always at the ready. He’ll teach you how to track, how to survive, how to be strong. His affection is a quiet presence, a constant reassurance that you are valued and protected.

Once you break through his walls, you’ll discover a vulnerability he shows to very few. He’ll share stories of his difficult childhood, his dreams for a better future, and his fears of losing the people he cares about. Seeing this side of Daryl is a precious gift, a testament to the depth of your connection. He may ask for cuddles, or to just sit beside you in silence, but he will never tell you what he wants, you just have to understand what he needs at that moment.

With Daryl, silence isn’t awkward; it’s comforting. You can sit beside him for hours without saying a word, simply enjoying his presence and the sense of peace that comes from being near him. He understands the unspoken language of the heart, the subtle cues that reveal your emotions. He knows when you need a hug, when you need space, and when you just need someone to listen.

The key to a successful relationship with Rick and Daryl is understanding and acceptance. They are two very different men with distinct needs and ways of expressing love. There will be times when jealousy flares, when insecurities surface, and when communication feels impossible. But with patience, honesty, and a deep commitment to each other, these challenges can be overcome.

It's important to nurture individual connections with both Rick and Daryl. Spend time alone with each of them, engaging in activities that strengthen your bond. Go on a supply run with Daryl, learning his survival skills and sharing quiet moments in the woods. Have long talks with Rick, discussing your hopes for the future and offering him the support he needs.

Intimacy isn't just about physical affection; it's about emotional connection, shared vulnerability, and a deep sense of trust. Create a safe space where all three of you can express your feelings, share your fears, and offer each other comfort and support. Cuddle together, share kisses, and create a haven of love amidst the chaos.

Your relationship with Rick and Daryl will become the cornerstone of your chosen family. You’ll work together to protect the other survivors, offering them comfort, guidance, and a sense of belonging. You’ll create a home within the prison walls, a place where love and hope can flourish, even in the face of unimaginable horror. Carl will come to see you as another mother figure, confiding in you and seeking your advice. You'll become an integral part of their lives, a vital source of strength and stability.

Jealousy is inevitable in any relationship, but it can be especially challenging in a polygamous one. Open communication is key. Talk about your feelings, express your needs, and reassure each other of your love and commitment. Remember that love isn't a finite resource; it can expand to encompass multiple people.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 19 - This must be the place

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some very mild references to smut, grief

Last chapter....let's goooo

(gif doesn't reflect how reader looks)

You seemed to somehow move both in slow motion and in the fastest sprint of your life as you flung yourself at Bucky. He caught you with an audible ‘oof’ as you dived between his arms.

“Thank-you,” you squeaked tearily, burying your face into his shoulder, “thank-you”.

He didn’t speak, he just moved his arms around your back and held you firmly against him. You could feel the difference between metal and flesh as both enveloped you. Being back in his embrace was like meeting an old friend after a long absence – Safe. Familiar. Home. The two of you stayed like that for a moment. You weren’t really thinking, merely reacting. Bucky was almost perfectly still, as if any movement might break the trance.

You pulled away and looked up at him. He looked right back, his blue eyes practically burning into you.

“You knew this fence was important to me…”, you began.

He nodded, his face stoic.

“You knew that Granny asked me to do this…”

He nodded again.

“And…you were right,” you hesitated, “I have been putting it off. I guess…I guess it feels very final. It was the last thing I needed to do with this place. The last thing I needed to do…for her”.

He cleared his throat as he dropped his gaze, his voice soft, “I just thought it might help…if you didn’t have to think about it, it might be easier for you. And then…easier for you to leave”.

“Thank-you…”, you sniffed, “Do…do you want me to leave?”

His face suddenly hardened, and your heart ached as you thought he might tell you that he did, but his fingers dug deeper into your waist as if he were afraid that you would let him go.

“Of course not,” he replied gruffly, as if you’d insulted him. “Losing you has already been a nightmare. I don’t even know how I’m gonna feel when you’re really gone and I won’t even be able to bump into you around town. But you need to do what’s right for you. You need to be free to make your own decisions. If this fence is holding you back, I want to help you move forward”.

He looked at you as he told you this, those blue eyes carrying a depth of intensity that overwhelmed you.

You didn’t respond, just stared back at him, your mouth slightly agape. His words had stunned you. He was putting you first – your needs, your dreams. He had done all of this – the car, the fence – not as some grand gesture to win you back and show you what a good guy he was, but because it was to help you. To make you happy.

Bucky wasn’t necessarily a man of many words, but his actions spoke louder than he ever could. You understood that now. It didn’t magically undo the hurt he’d caused back at the bar, but it showed you that he was willing to support and be there for you, for the sake of your own happiness rather than his.

“Buck…” you whispered.

You didn’t even know you’d done it until your hand found his cheek, cupping it slightly. He turned his face into your palm and closed his eyes, as if relishing the feeling of your skin on his. The two of you stayed this way for a short while. It was nice to just be with each other for a moment, not weighed down by your complex shared history.

“Can I say something?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You found yourself nodding.

He sighed as he moved from your hand and turned away, seemingly trying to gather the words.

“I don’t know why…I did that. Why I went through your purse that night. I’ve replayed it over and over in my mind and I wish I had a real answer for you, but I don’t. As I did it, I thought to myself ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ and then I found the cash…and everything just went blank. I was so hurt by the possibility that you might have done that to me…that maybe you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you…and it’s like I lost all reason. And I know I should’ve come to you privately, and apologised for doubting you, and going through your stuff. I should’ve asked to talk rather than yelling…but my temper got the best of me. It’s not excusable. And it’s not enough. But it’s the truth. And truly, I am sorry.”

You looked at your feet as your stomach felt like it was tumbling to your knees. His sincerity burned in your ears.

“I didn’t tell you this…but before that happened, I knew I was…falling in love with you,” he said quietly.

Your face flushed and everything around you went a bit blurry but you still couldn’t quite handle meeting his eye.

He cleared his throat and continued. “And maybe…I don’t know…maybe on some level I was trying to sabotage it. Because it freaked me out, how I felt…I mean, and because I knew you’d be leaving, and maybe part of me was looking for reasons to end things before I got in too deep. Before it hurt too much. And that’s cowardly…and shitty…and inexcusable, but I guess that’s me. I’m not…good at this, Sugar. I struggle with my feelings. I can’t really regulate my emotions sometimes. Which is embarrassing as a grown ass man. But I’m trying to learn and be better”.

You finally managed to look up, your heart pounding in your chest as his admission sank in.

“Thank-you Bucky…I appreciate that…” you said quietly, “I just…it broke my heart that you could think I could do something like that. To anyone…let alone you”.

He sighed heavily, his regret evident, “I know. I know that isn’t you. And I know you don’t believe me…but that wasn’t me either, or at least not who I want to be. I’m ashamed by how I acted”.

The silence hung heavily between you both until you spoke again.

“I…I was falling in love with you too,” you admitted shyly, “that night…I had planned to tell you. Before…y’know”.

“Fuck…” Bucky winced, his voice low, “…I couldn’t have fucked it up any more than I did, huh?”

He smiled crookedly at you and playfully slugged your shoulder, an attempt at levity, but you could see the tension in his face.

You smiled back. “I guess…I guess I understand why you’d be freaked out. I was freaked out too. I kept thinking about what would happen when I left and doing my best to push it to the back of my mind. Just completely avoiding it. I guess neither of us really dealt with it….”

He took your hand in his, squeezing it softly. You took a deep breath as you looked into the depths of his baby blues and everything suddenly felt a bit clearer. You decided in that moment that enough was enough. No more dancing around the hard stuff. You owed it to yourself to lead a life where you tackled the problems head on, rather than hoping they went away by themselves or that someone else found the solution for you. Because dealing with the hard stuff is living, even if you’re uncomfortable in the process. Keeping your head in the sand was merely treading water, kicking the can down the road didn’t make it go away. You owed it to you. You owed it to Granny. You wanted to make her proud. And if it didn’t work out? Hell, it didn’t work out even when you did nothing. So you should at least try to have a say in your fate, even if you’d be knocked back sometimes.

“Buck…”

“Yeah, Sug?”

“I…I don’t…” you hesitated.

“Don’t what, Sug?” he asked gently, his fingers squeezing your palm.

“I don’t…”, you exhaled, “I don’t…want to leave”.

He tilted his head as he looked back at you, a look that took you back to every morning you woke up next to him, to every kiss you’d stolen, to every moment you’d spent in your bubble – just the two of you, hidden away from the rest of the world.

He reached his hand out towards you, his finger propping up your chin.

“Are you sure?” he asked quizzically as he held your face.

“No,” you laughed nervously, “but I never am. All I truly know is…I’m not ready to go yet”.

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the world around you disappeared, “then…don’t”.

And then he kissed you.

You weren’t sure how the kiss was somehow saccharine yet sexy, desperate yet patient, all at the same time. You pushed yourself into him as his arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly close. The rough stubble of his beard pressing into your cheek, pleasantly scratching at your chin as you silently remembered how it had felt all those times before. His familiar scent made you giddy, all cologne and the faintest hint of motor oil, the subtle caress of his laundry soap from his white t-shirt.

It wasn’t a movie-perfect kiss by any means – teeth clashed; heads bumped – but it didn’t need to be. It said the unsaid. It was real. It felt like coming home.

He pulled away for a moment, looking at you with puzzlement as he seemed to fully take you in for the first time.

“What?” you uttered breathily, a pang of anxiety that he might be regretting what he’d done.

“Are those…my boxers?” he asked incredulously, the familiar shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

You looked down at yourself, the flush of embarrassment working its way to your cheeks as you remembered that you’d gone outside in your pyjamas, initially expecting a delivery driver.

“You left them…they’re comfy,” you sputtered with mortification, shifting your arms over your thighs in a weak attempt to cover up his stolen underwear.

“Have you…have you been wearing them this whole time?” he smirked, “Since we broke up?”

“They’re comfy! And you left them at my place…finders keepers!” you spat back, annoyed at his amusement.

“Sugar…you keep ‘em,” he smiled as he pulled you towards him, “they look better on you, anyhow”.

You rolled your eyes, batting him away as you poorly masked your smile.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you groaned.

“Gladly…”

And he did.

*

Six months later…

You waved animatedly at Wanda and Vis as they entered The Snake Pit, smiling as you began to prepare their usual drinks. Wanda beamed back at you and Vis pointed to a free table, giving you a thumbs up as they settled in and took their jackets off. ‘I’ll be right there!’ you mouthed exaggeratedly at them as you plucked a couple of glasses out from beneath the bar.

“Settle a bet for us, would ya?” Sam asked as he and Clint pulled out the stools in front of you and sat down.

“Nope…” you muttered sternly as you poured Wanda’s usual, “Nooot getting involved with your bets. Not anymore. I learned my lesson from the firecracker incident…”

“…we all did,” piped up Steve from a few stools along, glaring warningly at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, “ohh don’t be so dramatic…it was fine”.

“Only because we’d just upgraded our fire extinguishers,” Steve barked as he sipped from his beer glass with contempt.

You giggled with amusement as the three of them erupted into bickering, with a passing Thor and Parker also joining to pick their side of the argument.

“Business as usual, huh Sug?” came a voice from behind you, as a metal arm wrapped itself around your hips.

“You know it…” you chuckled as you turned to face Bucky, rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

He grinned and leaned over to kiss you, causing the MC members in front of you to groan.

“Shut your pieholes,” Bucky admonished with a sneer, “If I wanna give my old lady a kiss, she gets a kiss”.

“We know…” Sam sighed. “Everyone within a twenty-mile radius knows, the way you’re all over her…”

“Well, I damn well hope so,” Bucky replied as he glared over at the corner of the bar, “there’s a guy over there who was getting a bit close…”

“Oh relax…” you laughed as you finished pouring the drinks, “he just couldn’t hear me over the jukebox while he was ordering…”

Bucky scoffed, “Yeah…like I haven’t heard that one before…”

“It’s true,” Steve chimed in solemnly, “we’ve all used that one…”

The group descended into gregarious laughter and chatter, so you used the opportunity to slip away – bringing Wanda and Vis their drinks. You talked with them for a while as you transferred their glasses from the tray to their table. Their wedding planning was going well, although they still had a lot to do.

You caught Bucky’s eye from across the room and the two of you shared a smile, almost conspiratorial in its intimacy. For a minute you were transferred back to the old days, when nobody knew about your relationship, and it was just the two of you – sneaking around, the two sole holders of something clandestine, something private – just for you both.

Bucky was loud and proud about your relationship now, and sure, you were also proud to be his old lady. You weren’t a dirty secret or something to keep quiet, but that didn’t mean you didn’t sometimes long for the intimate silence of days gone by.

You’d called off the house sale as soon as you and Bucky had shared the kiss out on your lawn. Granny’s house was yours now, although you and Bucky had spent some time making it more ‘you’, helping to exorcise the ghosts and put your own little spin on it. You knew she’d approve.

You and Bucky were enjoying being together, but you still lived apart. There was no hurry to do much else, for now. You’d got your old job back, you’d spent more time with the MC, and started to build a life here in this town. It was nice to finally start to lay down roots, to finally find somewhere you felt like you belonged.

Getting to know Bucky again was part of that, you had forgiven him for what had happened – but it wasn’t a magic wand. Trust always takes time to rebuild. And what was the rush? You loved him. He loved you. Neither of you were going anywhere. Milestones would happen in time.

Although you spent most of your nights together…

And sometimes you couldn’t wait until you got home…the bar’s office had seen it’s fair share of action…

He wasn’t always great with words, but his actions said everything he needed to. He would regularly tune Sally up and fill her tank, you couldn’t remember the last time you needed to go to a gas station. He’d make you breakfast, bringing it to you in bed as you lazily rolled over and smiled at him through half open eyes. He’d take you out on his bike, encouraging you to hold him tight around his middle as he upped the speed – listening to your squeal of excitement as the wind whipped through your hair. He’d even arranged a charity donation box for the animal shelter and propped it at the end of the bar, a photograph of Granny proudly mounted behind it – every penny and dollar collected in her honour.

It felt like he was honouring you, too.

You’d often think about him sleeping out on that road for you, insisting he stay despite you pushing him to go. You thought about him fixing the fence so you could freely leave on your own terms. He was the first person (apart from Granny of course) to fight for you. Even when it got tough. You felt very lucky to be loved like that, to be seen like that.

Peter Quill had mysteriously left town a few months ago. You had interrogated Bucky, asking if it was a coincidence that he apparently got a new job out of state, but he maintained it was. You weren’t so sure, but you wouldn’t pry. You just hoped it was true. Peter had sent you one finally text apologising for his behaviour, explaining that what had happened between you had been the catalyst to get therapy. You hoped that was true, too.

Tom, the once-thief, was doing well in the rehab facility over in the city. The staff there seemed positive that he’d come a long way with his gambling and was on the right track.

As you headed back to the bar, tray tucked under your arm, you saw Amber and gave her a wave as she headed over to her new boyfriend, Eddie. He seemed nice, even if you think you caught him talking to himself over by the men’s room once. She smiled back at you as you passed.

You resumed your post, serving a round of beers to a few guys as Bucky stood behind you, his hand on your waist as he chatted with Steve. As the customer handed you a cash tip and left, Bucky leaned in and kissed your temple without even looking up. It was as if he was on auto pilot, unable to avoid it. Life was good. Maybe this ‘making decisions’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

You placed your tip into the shelter donation box and smiled wryly at Granny’s picture as you passed, then went back to serving.

“Who’s next?”

THE END

Hiiiii! Thanks again to anyone who reblogged/left a comment for this story, it’s honestly been wonderful and I hope you enjoyed how it ended. I know a few of you didn’t think Bucky had atoned enough, and I’m sorry if that’s the case. I’m pretty satisfied with the journey he took!

If you aren’t familiar with the title, it’s my favourite Talking Heads song and I think it’s really beautiful – the lyrics partly inspired this fic, you can find them here if you’re interested.

Once again, thanks for your support. My Ko-Fi link is here if you’d like to support me further (but no pressure obv!). It’s wonderful to be in such a great community!

[cherry-holmes]

From Salt, Iron, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮: A Supernatural Series

(Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Part 9: Never Mine to Lose

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: You can write your own destiny, choose your path and be happy… or can’t you?

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: +4.7K

Warnings: A HUGE amount of angst. Brief oral sex (F!receiving).

A/N: 🫣

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Dean hadn't ask you formally to be his girlfriend, but you definitely were a couple. You two had been having dates, romantic road trips—and a lot of the best sex any of you would ever had—for the past two months already.

There was an undeniable and pure connection between you. It was there in the way he reached for your hand without thinking, lacing his fingers through yours when you walked into a diner or sat beside him on the motel bed. In the way he always ordered your coffee just right, remembered your favorite songs, how he tucked your coat around your shoulders when you forgot it.

It was the way he looked at you.

He didn't say it, not outright, but his eyes always did. That quiet reverence when you smiled. That low, hungry gaze that made your knees weak when you were alone. And when you were curled up together in the Impala or tangled under the sheets, he'd hold you close like he was afraid the world might steal you away if he let go.

Out in the field, Dean was all instinct and precision, always a step ahead, but he never treated you like porcelain. He'd glance your way before a shot, let you take the lead when you had the plan. He didn't smother you. He trusted you, and so did Sam. And that trust made you fiercer, braver.

Still, you could always feel him nearby, like a second shadow, ready to put himself between you and danger without hesitation. And after every hunt, like it was second nature, he'd tug you gently toward him, eyes skimming over you like he needed to see that you were whole.

It was protection without possession. And it made you feel safe and confident in a way you never had before.

Furthermore, Dean was tender in ways you don't think he actually realized. Like brushing your hair behind your ear, pressing his lips to your forehead when he thought you were asleep, and whispering your name into the hollow of your neck like a secret.

And when it came to sex... God, there was that, and it was everything. Dean taught you everything he had to offer about passion and lust, tangled with the endearing love you both had for each other.

"Dean..." you whimpered, out of breath, as his tongue moved slowly up and down your core.

Your fingers tangled in the strands of his soft hair, while his broad, calloused hands held you firmly in place, right where he wanted you.

He glanced up at you, eyes dark with devotion, like he was worshipping you with every movement of his mouth. And when you gasped his name again, a little broken this time, he grinned against your skin like it was the only sound he ever wanted to hear.

"That's it," he murmured, a couple of his fingers replacing his tongue to guide you down the edge, voice low and rough, almost proud. "Let go, sweetheart. I've got you."

And he did. Not just now, not just like this, but in the weight of his gaze, in the way he held you like you were the one thing in this world he didn't want to lose.

When it was over, and your body had finally stilled beneath his, Dean didn't say much. He just kissed the inside of your thigh, then crawled up to you and gathered you into his arms. You curled against his chest, your heartbeat slowly syncing with his.

There were also the lazy mornings. The way he never turned away when you reached for him.

Whatever it was between you two, it was real.

And in those following weeks, life had a rhythm. A rough, imperfect rhythm that still somehow felt like home.

One night, Dean asked you if you were hungry. No hunt, no ghosts, no monsters. Just hunger. The real kind.

He didn't tell you where he was taking you. Just held the door open with that easy, habitual care, then turned the Impala onto the open road, classic rock low on the radio and one hand resting lightly on your thigh.

You ended up at a burger shack just off the highway, an old place with peeling paint and blinking neon, the kind that still served everything wrapped in wax paper and too much grease. He parked the Impala facing the woods and passed you a wrapped burger.

"You eat like a proper American now," he joked.

You unwrapped it with a grin. "You corrupted me."

You sat in silence for a while, the radio humming low.

Fries passed back and forth, your feet propped on the dashboard, his arm draped along the back of your seat, conversation floating with jokes and soft laughter. It felt like the kind of date you'd seen in movies, but never lived. Warm, unhurried. Real.

At some point, Dean grew quiet, and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, like he was nervous.

"You ever think about... getting out?" he asked.

You looked over. "Out of what?"

"This life. Hunting, motels, ghosts..." His fingers tapped the steering wheel. "All of it. Have you ever regret joining us on this?"

You tilted your head. "When I first got here, I thought maybe I'd find a way back. To my time. But now..." You looked out the windshield. "Now it just feels like this is where I'm supposed to be. So no, I'm not feel any regret. I would never regret following you, Dean."

Your hand reached for his cheek, fingers tracing the rugged texture of his two-day beard. "Why you ask? Have you?" your voice was soft, attentive.

Dean shrugged, thoughtful. "I used to want to be a firefighter as a kid, you know?"

You blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said with a sheepish grin. "Big boots. Red truck. That kind of thing. Saving people... without all the blood rituals and beheadings."

"That's pretty cute, Dean," you laughed softly, leaning your head back against the seat. "You'd have been good at it."

He glanced at you then, soft, serious. "I still think about it sometimes. Not the job, exactly. Just... a different kind of life. Sammy almost got it once. And sometimes I regret having dragged him back to this."

You swallowed, sensing something deeper beneath his words.

"If you ever wanted out," he said quietly after a while, "I'd go with you."

Your eyes flicked to him. "Dean..."

"I mean it." His voice was low, rough with something raw. "We could just disappear. Find a house somewhere off the grid. You could have a garden or whatever people do when they're not hunting monsters. I'd... learn to fix normal things. Maybe start a garage."

You blinked against the sudden sting in your eyes.

You stared at him, taking in the weight of his words and the meaning layered beneath them. There was a promise—an unspoken desire to be bound to each other—in the sincerity of his green gaze, and it melted your heart.

He shrugged, like it wasn't earth-shattering. "Not saying tomorrow or anything. Just... if that's something you wanted. I'd want that too."

You reached for his hand, laced your fingers through his, and held on.

"Yes," you whispered, voice soft as a vow. "That sounds rather lovely, my dear."

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Sam and Castiel became a constant part of that rhythm too.

Mornings often started with Sam already at the table, buried in lore with three half-empty mugs of coffee beside him. He never commented when you walked in wearing Dean's shirt, hair a mess, cheeks still warm from the night before, but the twitch of a smirk on his face gave him away. He was happy to see his brother having the love the deserved. And it made him think that maybe he could find his own soon.

Castiel, on the other hand, was as baffled by human affection as ever. He watched you and Dean with that tilted-head curiosity, trying to understand things like handholding and inside jokes. But he grew fond of you quickly. Protective, in his own quiet way.

You grew close to both of them in different ways. Sam felt like the big brother you never had. And Castiel  felt like an ancient, tired guardian who saw the cracks in your soul and chose to protect them anyway.

And in between the hunts, the motel rooms, the late-night drives and diner stops, there were stolen kisses, soft laughter, touches beneath the table, and Dean always finding ways to remind you, without words, that you belonged.

Right here. With them. With him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you belonged, like you had a place, a purpose, and people who loved you. Dean didn't say the words often, but he didn't have to. You felt it in the way he looked at you when you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, in the way his hand always found yours under the table, in the way he whispered your name when he thought you were asleep.

You weren't just surviving anymore. You were living.

Everything seemed to settle, to fit perfectly into your new life. So perfect, so easy, that it made you forget you had come from another time. That somewhere in the past, you were a different woman; quiet, and too sad to go on. A woman who had once believed the only way out was the 'easy' way.

And now, it seemed you'd forgotten her... until, seven months after your arrival, everything began to fall apart.

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During the couple of weeks before everything changed, life was normal. A couple of days at Bobby's, supply run with the brothers, movie nights with Dean, hunting trips (one of which turned out to be just a rat infestation), morning runnings with Sam, and went out to dinner with the boys and Charlie.

And then came the hunt.

It had started like any other. A nest of vengeful spirits terrorizing an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of town. Sam had tracked the source to an old family tragedy, while Dean salted and burned the remains they'd found buried beneath a collapsed shed. You were on lookout, shotgun in hand, standing watch by the broken staircase.

It should've been over.

But something had gone wrong.

One of the spirits hadn't been tied to the bones. It was bound to something else still hidden. And when it appeared out of nowhere, lashing out with a furious shriek, Dean didn't have time to react.

But you did.

"Dean!" you screamed, sprinting toward him.

Your body slammed into his with full force, knocking him out of the ghost's path just in time, but it hit you instead. Not physically, but with a psychic blow that sent you flying back, straight into the darkness of a crumbling third floor.

Dean watched you fall, helpless. The silence that followed felt like an eternity... until it was broken by the sickening sound of your body slamming violently against the floor below.

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Everything around you was silent. Weightless. The pain in your head, the panic in your chest... it was all gone. In its place, a cold stillness.

You stood barefoot in what looked like a vast, gray field. No wind, no sound. Just mist curling around your ankles like smoke.

"Am I dead?" you whispered, your voice swallowed by the fog.

"No," said a voice behind you. "You've been gone for quite some time. But not dead."

You turned.

A woman stood there: tall, pale, dressed in black. Her eyes were impossibly old. You didn't need her to say it to know what she was.

A Reaper.

"I don't understand..." you murmured, panic creeping through your veins.

Calmly, she stepped closer, "You died almost two hundred years ago. By your own hand. What's walking around now is a soul caught between Heaven and Earth. Your soul is old, and tired. "

You shook your head, backing away. "That's not true. I'm real."

"You're temporary," she said, tilting her head. "You've been on borrowed time, slipping through cracks. You have to rest."

You started to cry. "No. No, there has to be a way. I'm not ready. I have a life now. I have... Dean. I love him. I have Sam, and Castiel. I have..."

"You were never meant to stay," the Reaper said gently. "Your place is no longer among the living."

"I won't go," you said, your voice trembling. "You'll have to drag me."

The Reaper sighed, almost with pity. "Don't fight it, or your soul will get lost in the emptiness."

You blinked.

A faint voice broke through the fog, distant, but growing louder. "CLAIRE!"

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

Suddenly your chest exploded with pain, like fire and lightning. Your knees buckled and you woke up.

"I got you, babygirl, I got you," Dean whispered, cradling you tightly in his arms as your eyelids fluttered open. His voice cracked with the weight of emotions he didn't know how to name—relief, fear, disbelief.

Your vision was blurry, the world around you a swirl of dim light and muffled sounds. You blinked, slowly adjusting. Sam was crouched nearby, eyes wide and wet, his face pale with shock.

"Hey," he said softly, managing a small, shaken smile. "You're awake."

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat burned. All you could manage was a whisper. "What...?"

"Don't try to talk," Dean murmured quickly, brushing the hair from your face. His hands were trembling. "You're safe now. Cas healed you."

It was then you noticed Castiel standing just behind them, his expression unreadable, but his eyes heavy.

There was dried blood on your skin, on the back of your head, in your hair, the thick metallic scent of it clinging to you.

Your head throbbed dully. Your body ached everywhere, like you'd been crushed and sewn back together.

Dean looked at Cas. "You got her in time?"

Cas didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed on you.

"I did what I could," he finally said. "She was... far. But I reached her."

You frowned, he wasn't supposed to be there. Did the boys prayed to him? What they were talking about?

They didn't tell you the truth, not then. Not that your heart had stopped. Not that Castiel had pulled you back from the veil when your soul had already started to slip away. You had died, if only for a minute. But no one dared speak it aloud.

Castiel had placed a glowing hand on your forehead, and the bones in your body mended themselves in a rush of white-hot pain. Your skull, cracked from the fall, sealed under his grace... but the blood remained. None of them had dared to wipe it away.

Dean wouldn't let you walk. He carried you to the car. You barely remembered the ride back to the bunker.

The next days were a fog.

You couldn't stay awake for long. Your body refused to cooperate, as if gravity had turned on you. There was a heat in your skin—feverish, bone-deep. Sometimes you'd drift off mid-sentence, waking again in a cold sweat.

Dean never left your side. He sat at the edge of your bed, watching over you through sleepless nights, gently coaxing you to eat, holding a damp cloth to your forehead when the fever spiked.

Sam paced the halls, researching anything he could. Some lore, some answer. Something to explain why you weren't getting better. But there was nothing. Not even Bobby could help.

And Castiel... he was quiet. Confused.

"I healed her wounds," he said quietly one evening, standing just outside your room with the brothers. "But something's... wrong. It's not physical."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "Then what the hell is it?"

"I don't know," Cas admitted, which scared them more than anything. "It's like her soul is... exhausted. Fractured."

Dean stared through the doorway at you, curled up under the blanket, your face pale and damp with sweat.

"She's not going to die again," he said. "She's not."

So he took you to a hospital. A real one. He was desperate enough to believe science could explain what Heaven and Hell could not.

The doctors ran every test imaginable: blood panels, brain scans, heart monitors. They checked for diabetes, thyroid issues, autoimmune disorders. They even ran a pregnancy test, just in case. Dean stood outside the room with his arms crossed and a hole opening in his chest, waiting for someone to come out and say they'd found it, whatever it was.

But they didn't.

Every test came back clear. Physically, you were fine.

"But she's not fine," Dean growled when the doctor tried to smile reassuringly. "She's not okay. Look at her."

And still, no one could explain the dark hollowness in your eyes, or the way you flinched from sunlight, or why you barely spoke unless Dean said your name. They couldn't explain the way your soul seemed to be folding in on itself.

Dean didn't want to believe it, but deep down he knew Castiel was right.

It wasn't your body that was broken. It was your soul.

One night, you were just... done. You hadn't said a word all day. You hadn't eaten more than a spoonful of applesauce. A nurse came in to draw more blood, her voice chipper in that professional way, like she could talk away the misery.

She looked at your inner elbow, already bruised and sore, and winced. "She's too tender for another draw here," she said to Dean, as if you weren't in the room. "We'll have to go through the hand or foot."

Dean just nodded, exhausted. His eyes were rimmed red, glassy with unshed tears. He looked like he hadn't slept in days—which he hadn't—and like he didn't know how to fix this, which he didn't.

You opened your eyes slowly. Just a crack.

"Dean..." Your voice was barely a whisper.

His head snapped toward you immediately. In an instant, he was at your side, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand brushed your hair away from your forehead, fingers trembling.

"What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?" he asked, voice tight with worry.

You swallowed. Every part of you ached. Your limbs felt like they were made of stone, too heavy to lift. But your eyes found his, and for a moment, they were clear.

"I wanna go home," you murmured.

He blinked, surprised. "I know, baby, but—"

"No, Dean," you cut him off softly. "Please. I'm not getting better here. The lights... the noise... it's too much. It doesn't feel right. I wanna go home. I think... I think I'll be better there."

He looked at you for a long time. Really looked. Your thin hospital gown, your hollow cheeks, the IV line taped to your wrist. You were slipping away from him, and not in a way a doctor could stop.

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay. We'll go home."

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

On the second morning back at the bunker, Dean woke slowly, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the blinds. For the first time in days, he felt rested. Calm.

His first instinct, as always, was to check on you.

You were still curled into him, your body draped across his like always. Your hand rested over his chest, light as a feather. Your face was tucked against his neck, and for a moment, everything seemed normal. Peaceful.

Dean smiled to himself. Today's the day, he thought. She's gonna be better. I'll get some food in her, maybe get her to laugh.

Carefully, he reached down and brushed some hair from your face. "Morning, sunshine," he whispered.

You didn't respond, but you were sleeping, he thought. His hand trembled slightly as he brought it to your cheek.

Your skin felt cold against his palm. Way too cold.

And Dean had a bad feeling.

"Deer?" he called softly at first, not wanting to rip you out of your dream. But you didn't answer. You didn't even move. "Claire." Now his voice was louder, authoritative, scared.

He shifted you away from his chest to get a better look. Your face was alarmingly pale, your features still and peaceful... but something felt wrong.

With a shaky, unsure hand, he pressed his fingers to your neck. His heart dropped violently... there was no pulse.

"What the hell—"

Dean acted fast, flipping you fully onto your back and starting chest compressions.

He didn't understand what was happening. Why now? How?

"SAM!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "SAMMY!"

Sam appeared in a blink, his eyes widening in horror.

"What happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside you.

"I don't know... Sammy, help me!" Dean answered, still pressing down on your chest. "Wake up... no, no, no, sweetheart... Please... Don't— Don't leave me..."

Dean didn't stop. He couldn't. His hands kept pressing against your chest, desperate, mechanical, as if the rhythm itself could defy fate. His breathing was ragged, his face tight with panic.

"Come on... don't do this. Claire. Deer, please..."

He tried to call Castiel. On his mind, out loud, but the angel didn't answer. "FUCK."

"Dean," Sam said softly, but his brother didn't listen.

"Stay with me, baby. You hear me?" Dean's voice cracked. "You're gonna be fine. Just wake up. Wake up, sweetheart—"

"Dean," Sam said again, more firmly this time, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Dean. Stop."

"No," Dean growled, still working on you. "She's not gone. She can't be."

Sam gently but firmly pulled him back. Dean resisted, then finally collapsed beside you, hands shaking, eyes wild.

Sam reached out, checking your pulse again. He leaned down, listening—hoping, praying. But nothing.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "She's gone."

Dean's breath hitched. He blinked slowly, unable to accept it. "No. No, no, no..."

Without hesitation, Dean grabbed his phone with trembling fingers. "Cas! CAS, damn it!—pick up, you son of a bitch!"

Still no answer.

Dean held your lifeless body against his chest so tightly it was as if letting go would break him. He cried into your hair, his tears soaking your strands. Your limbs hung limply at your sides—motionless, pale.

Sam couldn't understand what was happening. He sat at the edge of the bed, unable to look at you, he didn't want to. He cried in silence, the sound of his older brother's broken sobs painfully loud in the room.

A few minutes later, Castiel finally appeared. But he wasn't fine either. He looked beaten: his trench coat was torn, and blood stained his clothes.

Sam and Dean looked at him.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" Dean barked, furiously. "I needed you here!"

"Cas, what–?" Sam asked, but Castiel's eyes were already on you.

"What happened?" he asked, voice low. He stepped forward, trembling.

"She's gone," Sam answered gently. "It just... happened. We don't know how."

Dean stepped forward, wild-eyed, broken. "You have to bring her back."

Castiel looked toward your still body, then back at Dean. "I... I'll try."

He placed two fingers on your forehead and closed his eyes, reaching. Searching. Long seconds passed.

Then his brow furrowed, confused. "She's not in Heaven."

Dean's jaw clenched. "Then check Hell." It wasn't possible, he think, but it definitely would worth the shot.

"I already am," Cas said softly, voice laced with something that frightened them both. "She's not there either."

Dean blinked, stunned. "What the hell does that mean?"

Castiel slowly lowered his hand. "Her soul... it's gone. Not destroyed, not imprisoned. Just... gone." He paused, tracing your face softly with his fingers.  "I can feel– that her heart just stopped beating. She died naturally."

"Naturally?" Dean asked, rage and confusion on his voice. "She's in her early twenties, what do you mean 'naturally'?"

"Dean, she's technically 221 years old," the angel replied.

Then, silence. It was a fact, and it wasn't a surprise.

After a moment, Sam asked gently. "Where have you been, though? Who did this to you?"

"I—" Castiel's voice cracked. "I was intercepted by some kind of entity on my way here... Whatever held me back didn't want me to save her. Like I did when she fell."

Dean stared down at you, motionless on the bed. His voice came out as a whisper. "So that's it? She's just... gone?"

"Not gone," Cas said gently. "Just... not here."

Dean turned away, his hands curling into fists. "I'm gonna find the son of a bitch who did this..."

"Dean," his brother intervened, "we heard Cas, she died in her sleep. Naturally."

"We did. And we also heard that something stopped him from saving her," Dean said, his voice raw, charged with an anger that could tear through Heaven and Hell. "That means something let this happen. Well, I'm gonna hunt this motherfucker down, and I'm gonna rip it apart. Then, I'll bring her back."

But it won't be easy.

Dean spent days searching for something, anything, that could bring you back.

He tried every spell, tried to negotiate with every demon he could encounter, to summon every angel he could possibly find. But they hadn't had answers, no deal to treat because not even they could find you.

It was like you never, ever, existed. And the only person who could recall your soft gaze and warmth was him.

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The sky was gray when they burn your body.

Ash clung to the clouds, wind biting against their jackets as the fire roared. The pyre stood tall in the middle of a quiet field, far from town, surrounded by nothing but silence and pain.

Dean stood motionless, staring at the flames like he could will them to stop. Like he wanted to join them.

It had taken days to get him here. Days of silence, of rage, of him locking himself away in the garage or in your room, sitting in the chair you always curled up in. He hadn't said much, barely ate, barely slept. Just kept looking through books, calling contacts, whispering your name when he thought no one was listening.

Dean wouldn’t accept that you didn’t belong there. In his time and space. Because God knows he belonged to you.

So he refused to let go.

"I can bring her back," he had told Castiel through clenched teeth. "There's always a way."

But Cas only shook his head. "Her soul isn't here, Dean. She's gone."

Dean hadn't answered. He'd walked away, slammed the door behind him.

Sam had tried too. Tried to talk to him, reason with him, plead with him. "She wouldn't want this, man. She wouldn't want you like this."

But Dean had stared at him, hollow. "Don't tell me what she'd want."

It was Bobby who finally got through. He came down from Sioux Falls, brought by Castiel and Sam, both at their wit's end.

He didn't yell. Didn't argue. Just sat beside Dean in the dark, room where he'd begged Castiel to preserve your body, sipping from a flask and waiting.

After a while, Bobby said, "I know what it's like to lose someone you love so bad you can't breathe. I know the fight. The clawing, desperate need to undo it. But she's gone, son. And this... this ain't helping her rest."

Dean didn't speak. Your hand felt heavy and cold beneath his.

Bobby's voice softened. "You gave her peace. She died knowing she was loved. Let her go with that."

That night, Dean finally agreed.

But now, standing in front of the fire, he didn't feel peace. He felt nothing but that awful, choking emptiness.

Sam stood beside him, shoulders tense, eyes damp. Castiel watched from a few paces back, his hands folded, gaze fixed on the flames with reverence.

No one spoke. No one could.

Dean's jaw was tight, his eyes red but dry. He didn't cry. Not yet. His grief came in silence, deep, vast, and unmovable. He hadn't said goodbye. He couldn't.

The crackling of the fire filled the space between them. Somewhere in the wind, a bird cried out.

Dean took a shaky breath.

"I want her here," he said, barely audible.

Sam looked down. Castiel closed his eyes.

"I want her here with me," Dean repeated, louder this time, his voice breaking. "It's not fair..."

And then finally, he cried, not loud, not dramatic. Just tears carving quiet tracks down his cheeks as he stood rooted in place, watching the last of you disappear into smoke.

NEXT PART

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[ohmyitsfaith]

50 days of learning love

Y/n L/n, a seemingly normal human somehow survived the apocalypse in 2019, but without much memory of their previous life. It has been almost five years since then and they have completely lost hope of ever living a normal life. That is, until they meet Five, who has been in the apocalypse as long as they had. Together they work on a way out, using Five's powers and the equations he previously worked on. Amongst many things, they have a chance to learn how to love each other.

Table of contents

Part 1: Days 1-5

After surviving the apocalypse, you try to survive in the dusty and lonely world. But it has been five years and you're losing hope of ever living a normal life again.

Part 2: Days 6-10

You and Five try to get along, but now that Delores is in the picture too... well it's harder.

Part 3: Days 11-15

You and Five start to warm up to each other as the days pass.

Part 4: Days 16-20

Stressing is caring. Five is away and you're afraid something bad is going to happen to him. Eventually, it does. Which is followed by a bunch of arguments.

Part 5: Days 21-25

You're sick, he's sick, everyone is sick. Maybe you shouldn't have stayed close to the sick boy with both of your immune systems being so weak.

Part 6: Days 26-30

Now that you're officially besties, your love for the other grows more.

Part 7: Days 31-35

Finding love after being alone for five years comes with a plethora of emotions.

Part 8: Days 36-40

Sometimes there are problems we can't simply solve, so we must ask for help. A situation might seem impossible, bu there's always some type of solution. Even if that solution hurts.

Part 9: Days 41-45

Things progress in the search for an answer and also in your and Five's relationship. The happier times are closer than ever.

Part 10: Days 45-50

This is the end of this short tale. The only thing left is to say goodbye and show how to love.

A/n: Sorry, the other post got corrupted in the editing process, so here's a new one. Hopefully this will be fine.

More umbrella academy fics: The umbrella academy masterlist More stories: Main masterlist

[darethshirl]

in vino veritas, lucanis+illario angst

The tavern was more dump than establishment. Rotten wood, holed-up walls, a general miasma of darkness and misery even the sun shone bright and cheery outside. Hypothetically, at least. The Drowned District never got enough sunlight even at the best of times, abandoned to its fate by both Treviso and the Maker. Its inhabitants, wretched souls to the last, knew better than to expect more.

Illario should know. He stooped lower in his seat, his cloak's hood obscuring all other sights except for the blood-black liquid of his cup. Disgusting stuff, truly, thin as piss and bitter as life. Illario had already down half a bottle with the grim determination of a man facing the noose. Or a man with nothing left to lose. Which—and not to put too fine a point on it—was more or less the truth.

"You do realize the point of prison is to keep you behind bars, yes?"

Illario glanced up. There he was, his venerable cousin: dressed in feathers and dark purple, the First Talon's mantle as heavy and ostentatious as the king's robes. He looked out of place in these environs, too polished and well-fed to match. Too powerful. Illario bared his teeth into a smile. "I'm only providing a service for you, my dear cousin. I'm afraid your locks are shit. They need replacement."

Lucanis expelled a sigh that seemed dragged out of his very core. He grabbed a chair and sat down, his frown heavy, his gaze resigned. "Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome."

A serving boy came up unobtrusive as a mouse, brought a second cup and filled it without making eye-contact. Lucanis observed it all in silence, not reacting even after the mouse had scurried away. He didn't drink. "How many times has it been now? Four?"

"Five. The first time I tried to escape in earnest."

"Right." Lucanis reached for his cup and gazed down at its depths, like a sage searching for omens. "You didn't have to kill Enico, you know," he added in a disapproving tone. "He was a good Crow."

Illarrio frowned slightly. "I didn't. I aimed for his head."

"Well, you must have misjudged your force. He never woke up, and now he's dead."

"Oh." Illario searched his heart for an appropriate emotion, and found himself completely empty. Hard to muster up sympathy for others when you're condemned. "Sorry," he offered with a shrug.

At least that made Lucanis look up, finally, and fix Illario with a glare. "Do you even know what the other Talons are saying about you? How they whine and press and keep asking for your head? I could still do it. Tell them all I changed my mind, and kill you."

"Why don't you, then?" Illario challenged, bitter and sharp. Finally, a clear emotion rising through the fog. "Why didn't you?"

Lucanis stayed silent, expressionless, unblinking. He'd do this more and more often lately, ever since he got that demon shoved into his head. It was a foreign look on him, a stranger's habit. Were they speaking to each other somehow, out of sight and in their minds? Was Lucanis simply mad? It made Illario shiver, the way he couldn't read him.

In the end Lucanis shook his head, as if flicking off a thought, and raised his cup. "Because I didn't want to."

And that was that. They drank slowly in this oppressive silence, the very air thin and brittle from all the things they left unsaid. Lucanis swallowed down the swill with stoic resolve, gulp after gulp until his head fell back and his throat bobbed. The Dellamorte way. Illario approved, and motioned for another bottle. Might as well make the moment last.

"So," he said after age, when his cup stood empty and his mouth tasted metallic. He made a grand and friendly gesture, gave a smile—and knocked down a bottle for his troubles. Must be drunker than he thought. But that, like everything else, ceased to feel like too much of a problem. "How's the life of a First Talon treating you?"

More of that infernal staring. Lucanis sat there impassively, unrecognizable. Unapproachable.

"Everything you ever dreamed of?" Illario insisted, the sharp edges of his smile mean and ruthless. Sometimes it felt good to press down on the wound. "Happy to finally achieve the role you were meant for?"

"Do you really want to know?" Lucanis snapped.

"Please, enlighten me."

"I hate it."

Illario told himself to smile. In truth it looked more like a grimace, the blood-frothed twitch of a victim's lips. He liked the pain. He did. "Good."

"I never wanted it."

Illario scoffed with relish. "You martyr."

"I wish you were here with me."

That stung. Illario closed his eyes, feeling nauseous. Unsettled. The alcohol rose up his gorge, wanting to expunge itself like venom. His fingers trembled. "Stop."

But Lucanis didn't stop. He kept going, ruthless like the killing blade, honest like a man who'd already lost. "You want to know the truth? I still love you. Even after everything you've done. How's that for tragic?"

Illario lurched to his feet, his chair clattering behind him. The world spun. He had the sudden, overpowering urge to jump into the murky canal and drown. And why not? The depths would welcome him like all the other dregs. "Take me back." Since you won't release me, one way or the other. "Coward."

Lucanis rose. He clapped a hand over Illario's shoulder, half a jailer, half a brother. His grasp was warm, easy to break.

Illario closed his eyes, and let himself be led.

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr part 8

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

:) I think some of you guys are gonna like this one.

You'd been afraid working with Chilchuck would be difficult, if not impossible, but you soon settled into an easy rhythm with him. With the both of you working together, you could cover more ground. Soon you worked out an almost code to signal to each other, quiet warnings and quick clicks of the tongue. 

The traps were sporadic and sometimes difficult to find and prepare for. Sometimes they were triggered by movement, sometimes by pressure. You weren't sure if you would have been able to get through them all alone. 

The labyrinth changed around you as you moved, doors clicking into place or disappearing. Soon you'd been unwillingly shunted off what you'd thought was the main corridor into who knows where. 

Eventually you came to a dead end. Chilchuck huffed in exasperation. "Damnit I'll have to either find some way through this or we'll need to backtrack, which would lose us a lot of time."

"Well if it's going to be a minute until we can move on we might as well stop for a meal now." Senshi said cheerfully. 

He stopped and made a move to unpack. You held up a hand. "hold on! Let me check this area for traps." 

You quickly combed the area. Surprisingly, it was completely clean for about ten feet away from the dead end. Definitely enough to set up a quick camp site. 

Once finished, Senshi began happily unpacking and then slicing up the walking mushroom. You joined Chilchuck in poking around the walls for hidden passageways. 

"There's no traps right around here. Not for another ten feet back" You said. 

"Yup, that's why I'm thinking it's not actually a dead end. Something's gotta move"

You nodded, and continued combing over the wall, poking and prodding at the bricks. 

"That was a really dumb thing you did back there."

You glanced up, affronted. Did you somehow miss a trap? "What? What did I do?"

"You know what I mean!" Chilchuck quietly hissed. "Tackling Izutzumi! There was a solid chance that wouldn't have worked and you haven't built up nearly enough body mass for resurrection to work again! We could have resurrected Izutzumi, I don't know if we could have resurrected you. It's not our job to put ourselves in danger unnecessarily! It's not brave, it's just stupid." 

You bristled and hissed back. "It wasn't like I planned that! I saw someone in danger and reacted. If I'd stopped to make a thought out plan Izutzumi would have died, and I don't know if you noticed but she's not exactly over abundant in body mass herself."

"Yes but she has more than you do! We *have* to keep expectations consistent across all halffoot workers, that's how this works and how the union continues to function. Yeah maybe you're okay with putting your life at risk for a stupid fucking reason but no halffoot should be forced into that!" 

"I'm not part of the union." You shot back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Izutzumi watching you with a bored expression. Ah. Cat ears.

You switched seamlessly into your native tongue, your voice rising a bit from anger. "When I went into the dungeon there were no regulations and you had to do whatever it took to prove you deserved to be here! Yeah we're both halffoots, but you're a man and you're tall for a halffoot, do you have any idea what it's like to be a tiny halffoot *woman* trying to get people to take her seriously? I learned how to fight and how to do stuff like that out of *necessity* because otherwise I would have been dropped by the wayside! And I don't have a contract with this party, and it might be nice to have another trap guy but they don't actually *need* me, and I'm telling you right now I will NOT be left behind and I WILL do WHATEVER it takes to be a part of this party. I don't give a shit about your fucking union. Let me take my own risks and stop treating me like a goddamn child, I have enough of that from the other races." 

You were half yelling by the end of that and your face was flushed and hot.  How dare he try and sit there and talk you through how halffoots were exploited like you hadn't gone through it too? Preaching on his fucking high horse. 

Chilchuck scowled, but he looked just slightly taken aback. He'd glanced at Izutzumi when you did and probably had picked up what you had, because he answered in the same language. "You don't have... Fuck you're right. I can probably negotiate one for you, you really don't have to do stuff like that just to be in this party. Why does it even matter to you so much? You don't need to stay here, you don't need to be doing this, we can just send you back. Marcilles all shy about it but they can learn the home spell from their book I bet. She picks stuff up real fast." 

You grit your teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Tell me. ONE. personal fact. About yourself." 

He blinked, mouth hanging open before he snapped it shut. "What?" 

"I've heard Marcille referencing her school, Laois talks about his sister and a bit about his village, Senshi won't shut up about the stuff he's into, and Izutzumi is Izutzumi, but YOU don't share SHIT. so if you want ME to start sharing you better fucking open up too buddy."

"I- that's not- what- I keep my personal and professional life very separate!"

You grinned. "Then don't expect me to be any different." 

Chilchuck opened his mouth to retort, before shutting it again. Then he shrugged. "Yeah that's fair, keep your reasons to yourself, I'll negotiate you a contract anyway, just forms sake." 

You put your hand down, the wind a bit let out of your sails. You hadn't expected him to back down so easy and you felt oddly...disappointed. it'd been a bit since you'd had a really good knock down drag out argument. 

"Food is ready!" Senshi said "Come and eat while it's hot!" 

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[cr3stawrites]

i am like so exhausted hi i got off a plane BUT it’s vienna’s (@auroralwriting) birthday and i let her pick my next song analysis and who it would be about — and she chose marigold with the song dreams by the cranberries

so, without further ado, marigold song analysis, happy birthday pookie wifey vienna <3 mwah 💋

“I know I felt like this before, but now I’m feeling it even more, because it came from you.”

WOAH okay yessir this is marigold here why? bc i said so and im actually apart of the cranberries true story can confirm !!

like marigold has this feeling of like being dreamy (that might be because this bitch is high a lot) and on cloud nine but with billy it’s like amplified.

when she’s with billy she (somehow) feels heard and loved. she feels like billy sees her dreams and supports them, like billy supports any dreams she has — whether it’s music or botany, but he loves his girl fr.

i have no idea where im going with this like i said im lowkey jet lagged from changing time zones

“You have my heart so don’t hurt me.”

lowkey getting a lil sad here (sorry vienna) but just because billy is faithful and loving and sweet to marigold in this universe don’t mean there’s no angst here.

marigold has heard of billy’s reputation, who hasn’t? but either way, there’s this fear that at one point, marigold is afraid of her heart breaking because of him.

she doesn’t want to be hurt, she doesn’t want billy to break her heart, yet she gives heart to him anyways, because she loves him.

he loves her too though, but they both know he’s going to fuck up sometimes.

“You’re everything to me.”

see above. kidding but this is basically the same thing but switched.

marigold means EVERYTHING to billy, from day one. especially when she humbled his ass, see here.

he doesn’t want to fuck it up, he doesn’t want to lose the girl that made his life worth living outside of the band. but he knows that he’s going to fuck it up somehow and some way.

but regardless, billy isn’t going to lose her — not when she is everything to him, his light, his flower, his everything.

“‘Cause you’re a dream to me.”

YEAHHH this is so billygold core omg.

like above — each of them fucking love each other. they fear for the same thing, billy breaking marigold’s heart.

they both think that this whole relationship is a dream bc they communicate so well (billycracker can’t relate) and they support each other.

finding one another was a dream for them, a dream come true. it was a feeling they had but never truly experienced until they met one another.