#but i just needed a minute to be sad. just for one minute

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung�� ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[mandarinmoons]

omg i love ur account soo bad, i would rlly like to read about Spencer being jealous of Derek, for the reader to comfort him and try to help with his insecurities, lowk sad ik but pleaseee 🙇🏻‍♀️

Spencer sighed as he watched Derek from afar, talking to a group of women. Each of the girls seemed to be entranced with what the man in front of them was talking about, one of them playing with her hair while the other one kept biting her lip which turned into a not so subtle smirk over time.

Spencer hadn’t had the best luck with women, he had a few take interest in him over time, but it never grew into something serious. He blamed himself for not being the archetype of a man girls would usually want from what he saw and no matter how hard he would try to be more appealing, it just wasn’t him and he wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade for too long.

“What’s on your mind, boy wonder?”

Spencer blinked his eyes as you walked over to him and brought him out of his thoughts. Spencer wondered if he should tell you what’s on his mind or would it be something he would eventually get over after some time. It was hard to hide anything from you though, the sparkle in your eyes made Spencer crack and he’d always tell you whatever it was he was thinking of, you had never judged him for it as well, so he had his answer.

“Y/N, be honest, is there anything about me that’s… unattractive?”

“What do you mean? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Really?”

You nodded as you took a seat next to Spencer, your hand reaching out and thumb running across the back of his hand. Spencer wasn’t one for physical touch, but whenever you showed it it put him at ease.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

“I look at Morgan at times, the way he talks to women, how he presents himself, the way he is basically and I don’t know I just… wish I could be that way.”

“I’ve always liked the way that you are. Men similar to Derek put me off at first, it makes me feel like they have other intentions, but when we first met only minutes in and you were talking about the differences between plant and human cells and I thought that it was really fascinating.”

Spencer chuckled as he remembered the day you both had met. He was scared that he had messed up his first interaction with you and that you would stay clear of him whenever you would come across in the bullpen, but you did the exact opposite. You’d always take time out of your day to go talk to Spencer, even if it was the most random subject someone could think of, but you never regretted it and kept coming back for more.

“There are people out there that adore people like you Spencer and I’m proud to say that I’m one of them. Plus, I think you’re cuter than Derek.”

Pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cheek, his eyes went wide as you waved goodbye and he watched you return to your desk, a slight bounce in your step as you strode across the room.

Spencer chuckled as his eyes met the floor, somehow your words set him at ease during times he needed it the most. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone like you in his life, but whatever it was he was sure he’d do it a thousand times again to have even one more conversation like this.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[achilles-rage]

hiiii hope im not to late to your prompt party.

how about “tracing a finger across your lover’s scar” and “kissing your lovers forehead or knuckles” for Buck

because I’m a cool lightning strike scar truther 🫙

yess i’m so glad i got a fluffy prompt request!! i was expecting mostly smut ones, so i love this!! this is also an idea i've had for a while, but never got around to writing, so i'm glad i finally got to write it!! also, i know these scars wouldn’t last that long, but just pretend<3

"tracing a finger across your lover's scar" and "kissing your lovers forehead or knuckles" from this post

you still remember the night there was a knock on your door. you weren’t expecting anyone, which was the first red flag, but when you looked through the peephole and saw the familiar fabric of an lafd uniform, you knew something was terribly wrong. 

you could barely look at buck shirtless for weeks; the lightning scars across his torso too painful of a reminder of when you saw him in the hospital. of when his heart stopped. 

3 minutes and 17 seconds.

when buck had finally noticed what you were doing; turning the a/c up so it was too cold for him to sleep shirtless, and always coming up with excuses to either of you taking off clothes during sex, he finally pieced everything together.

“baby, what’s going on? why don’t you want to see me anymore?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest as he stands in front of you in your shared bedroom.

you blink slowly, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you take in his hurt expression. you don’t want to tell him the truth, you don’t want to make it into a big deal. and you especially don’t want to face that he had died. not again.

“i can’t look at those scars everyday, buck. it fucking hurts.” you tell him, voice cracking. 

his brows furrow as he studies your face, and then his expression falls, realization dawning on his face.

“what, you think they’re ugly? you don’t think i’m attractive anymore?” you can see the tears in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly, closing the distance between the two of you and cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“oh, baby, no. of course not.” you assure him in a soft voice. you can’t believe yourself; you’ve put your needs completely over his. you didn’t even think of how this would look to him. “it’s just that, all i think about when i see those scars is how you left me. you died, buck, and then you were in a hospital bed, in a coma. you have no idea what that was like for me. for a while, we didn’t even know if you’d even wake up.” 

he lets out a shaky breath as a tear runs down his cheek, nodding slowly at your words. it’s true, he doesn’t know what that was like, and he feels an odd sense of guilt filling his belly.

“i’m sorry. i just thought that-” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours as he lets out a long sigh.

you shake your head, smiling sadly as you keep his face right against yours, feeling a tear fall down your own cheek.

“don’t you dare apologize. i’m sorry. i didn’t think about how you’d take what i was doing. your scars aren’t ugly. at all. you’re still you, and you’re still as handsome as you were without your scars, i promise. it was only ever about the memories attached to those scars.” you tell him, voice firm enough for him to believe you, yet soft enough to know that you’re not upset in any way. 

you feel him nod against your forehead, and you finally pull back from him and place a kiss on his forehead, lips lingering on his skin for a second or two longer than normal.

“i love you.” you whisper when you pull back, smile softly as you see the sadness and uncertainty melting from his features. “now take off your shirt.”

he raises a brow, a glimpse of his usual self coming back as he smirks down at you and places his hands on your hips.

“are you trying to get me naked, pretty girl?” he teases, and you laugh softly, shrugging.

“just your shirt, lover boy. wanna see you.” you tell him with a smile, turning him around and pushing him down to sit on the bed. 

he pulls his shirt off quickly, and when it’s off, you’re quick to straddle his lap and push his back down onto the bed. you let your fingers drag across his skin, tracing the patterns of the scar littering his torso. your eyes follow the path of your fingers, touch feather-light as you take in every dark patch of skin. 

buck can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you, eyes darting between your face and your fingers as his hands squeeze your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

when you finally look back up at him, you smile, fingers still pressed against his chest.

“beautiful boy.” you whisper, then lean down and begin to press gentle kisses to his scars, starting at the tips of each lightning strike, then moving up and kissing where each branch of lightning separates from the other, moving in different directions across his tan skin.

he doesn’t know what to do as he relishes in your touch, your attention to his scars feeling so overwhelming and mind numbing. he hadn’t told anyone, but he’s a little insecure about his scars. everyone tells him how cool they look, but he just doesn’t see it. it just reminds him of what happened to him, and what he could’ve lost.but, now, he doesn’t feel bad about them at all, because you like them, and that’s all that matters.

[writerdownbookworder]

I stare for a minute. There are...a lot of people standing around my front door.

I shake myself out of my surprise. "Can I...help you? Your Highness," I add hastily, sweeping into a deep curtsy.

The prince takes a small step forward. "We are looking for a Miss Anastasia Ryntz? We were told this is the correct residence."

My brow furrows in confusion. I feel like I'm missing something. I fidget with my threadbare apron as I slip between the guards and start fumbling with my keys to unlock the door.

"Yes, it is," I say slowly, ushering the crowd inside. "I'm Anastasia. I'm sorry, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

The prince looks around, distinctly uncomfortable in my very small house. With all the guards and his advisors, the room is very crowded. I wince as one of the guards tries to turn around and knocks a vase off my lone table.

The prince sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. "Really, Cass? That's it, everyone out." Balancing the cake in one hand, he uses the other to shoo at everyone. They look at each other uncertainly.

"I'm serious!" he yells. "The only people who are staying in this house are the lady, myself, and Grimms." He gestures at his closest advisor.

Slowly, my house empties, and I awkwardly offer the prince the one chair I own. "Would you...like to sit?"

He accepts gratefully, his advisor standing behind me, me across the table. The silence stretches for a few minutes before he jumps a bit in his seat. "Oh! I- We brought you a birthday cake!" He shoves it across the table eagerly.

I stare at it, then at him, confused. "Why?"

The prince frowns. "Well...it's your birthday, isn't it?"

I nod slowly. "22nd birthday. Why do you know that? And why do you know my name?"

The prince fumbles with his words for several seconds before his advisor - Grimms - sighs and speaks up. "Prince Auron is here to speak with you about something of the upmost importance. Are you the only person in residence? This is a private matter."

"Yes, it's just me." Dang it, I know my voice sounded sad there. I don't want them to think I'm a loser! "I live alone. By myself." Yeah, that was so much better. Whatever. "Anyway, what's up?" Facepalm.

Prince Auron clears his throat awkwardly. "You, of course, are aware that I am the youngest of the royal family. As such, on my birthday this year, when I came of age, I was given a prophecy about my future in the kingdom."

I nod. This isn't news to me. The prince's oldest sister will inherit the throne and his older brother will lead the armies and advise the crown. The third child is always a bit of a wild card.

"Does your prophecy have something to do with my business?" I ask. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be." I snort with derision. "You can see how I live."

Prince Auron fidgets. "Ah. Yes. Well, not really."

I wait, then when he doesn't elaborate, I sigh. "Your Highness, I would love to help you, but I can't do that unless you actually tell me what you need."

He blurts out. "I need you to marry me. Please."

I blink. "I'm sorry. What?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

BUZZED!

formula one x male!reader

request: Okay okay, here me out, Male!reader gets a buzzcut and the drivers find out via like instagram or something and they get really whiny abt it.

summary: you get a buzz cut without telling your boyfriend

warnings: initial instagram post is just for reference + reader only posts whichever one applies to you most!, swearing, playful arguing

contains: alex albon, lance stroll, + lewis hamilton

youruser has added to their story!

written: time for a change ✂️

alex albon:

"WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOOOO?" alex yelped as soon as he walked through the door of your shared apartment.

you had just been lounging on the sofa, scrolling through social media to pass the time. you jumped slightly at your boyfriend's shouting. "what? what did i do?"

alex rounded the corner into the living room and pointed at your hair with a pout.

"that! what did you?!"

"alex, i just cut my hair." you chuckled, staying slumped on the sofa.

alex whined. "how could you do this to me???"

"you're so dramatic, oh my fucking god." you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. as much as you loved your boyfriend, he sure knew how to be dramatic. "it's not that bad?"

"yes it is!" alex insisted. "what am i supposed to do now when i want your attention?!"

"ask for it like a normal person?"

"it's like you don't even know me." alex huffed, flopping down on the sofa beside you.

you laughed quietly and put your phone away. "it will grow back, y'know?"

your boyfriend tilted his head to look at you with a a pout. "and what am i supposed to do until then?"

"cope?"

he whined again and poked you in the ribs, making you squirm slightly. "you're so mean."

"yeah, well, it's not getting reattached," you argued. alex ran his hand over the shaved hair with a sigh. "better get used to it, baby."

"fine ... but never again, okay?"

"no promises."

lance stroll:

the second you walked into your boyfriend's hotel room, he was right in front of you. lance crossed his arms and pouted at you.

"uh-oh," you murmured.

a sheepish smile crossed your lips. you tentatively stepped forward until you were close enough to pull lance into a hug, which you were very pleased to say he didn't reject. hopefully that meant he wasn't too upset.

"why did you have to get a buzz cut?" lance whined, pushing your shoulder.

you hummed. the truth of it was that the haircut had been an impulsive action rather than a conscious decision, but ... well, it was done now. "it's just hair, baby."

"no, it's not," lance argued with a pout. "it's your hair. which you let me play with and wash and put bows in and stuff."

"yeah, i hope you understand i would literally never let anybody else touch my hair as much as you do," you pointed out. was a part of you hoping to distract lance with a sweet statement? perhaps. but he didn't need to know that.

lance paused for a moment. he seemed torn between being sad and whiny about your hair, and being happy about what you said. sue him. he liked to feel special. "... then why did you cut it?"

"because i wanted to?" you shrugged. your hands dropped to lance's waist and tugged him closer, making him squeak quietly. "it's summer and it's hot and i don't need a fur coat on my head?"

"but what about the bows?" lance pouted at you.

a little grin tugged at your lips. "well, i can put them in your hair?"

your boyfriend seemed to short circuit at the idea of you putting bows in his hair. his lips parted in surprise, before his expression morphed into a goofy grin. "okay."

lewis hamilton:

the first reaction you got from lewis about your haircut was a text. he must've already been close to home, but apparently he felt the need to freak out about you getting a buzz cut as early as possible.

you cut your hair?

... yes?

it hadn't taken you long to reply. a minute at most. evidently, that was long enough for your boyfriend to get to your door. he flung it open, a dramatic frown on his face. "why?"

"hello to you too," you muttered, standing up to greet your boyfriend with a kiss. "because it was getting in my eyes, lew."

"so?" lewis raised an eyebrow at you.

you scoffed playfully, thinking he was just having a joke and not being serious. "so i couldn't see."

"so?" lewis repeated.

not joking, apparently.

"i can see?" he poked at the now-short strands with a wary expression. "i'd lead you places??"

"lewis."

your boyfriend pouted. he let out a dramatic sigh and turned away from you. "fine, i guess you like your vision more than you love me, then."

knowing he was just milking it, you wrapped your arms around lewis from behind and kissed his temple cheekily. "yes! glad you understand."

"... brat."

"love you too, lew."

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: anon i am SO hearing you out (can you guys tell i love whiny boys yet)

comments + reblogs appreciated!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @spoonfulofmilo @justaf1girl @widow-cevans

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 (Squid Game) x Reader...a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

..a kiss for Dae-Ho in a rush of adrenaline

You hadn't really thought about finding an ally in this awful place. Honestly you thought the desperation that filled the sad dorm every night would make everyone here focus on only looking out for themselves. But amongst the darkest times there is always a glimmer of hope in the kindness of others, and the Squid Games were no exception. After only the first game you found yourselves falling in with the previous winner Gi-Hun and the team of friends he seemed to so effortlessly gather around him. One of your teammates in particular seemed to have the innate ability to keep the lights of hope on in your heart when they could have so easily been extinguished - Dae-Ho.

The awkward former marine had been the first to offer you a seat with them, dusting off one of the metal steps you perched on as if he was pulling out a chair at a nice restaurant. It was easy to feel safe around him; his strong arms always settling him in the seat beside you, his kind eyes seeking reassurance you were okay as the games progressed, and his sweet smile telling you this situation would be over soon enough, even though you had no reason to believe him. The two of you were clearly drawn to each other as you entered the game of Mingle, Dae-Ho swearing on his life to keep you close no matter what. But with each passing round the crowd got more aggressive and desperate, the sea of frantic bodies pulling you apart in its current, even as you fought to stay together. After each round you managed to find each other again, only to be grabbed by different groups in the next round and left desperately hoping and praying you both would emerge safely when the doors unlocked again.

"Hold onto my hand." He said firmly as you reunited for the final round, a renewed intensity in his eyes knowing that he only needed to keep you safe for one more torturous minute of this terrible game. "In-ho thinks it will be two per room next, so I promise, me and you are going to be safe." He tried to sound confident, but even in the dim lights you could see his eyes were glistening on the edge of tears as he clung to your hand and braced himself for the wheel stop.

"Groups of Two!" The automated game voice called out for above, and suddenly you felt your whole body getting heaved upwards, the ground below you moving faster than you thought possible from this strange new angle. As you saw the spinning platform disappear from your view, your hands clung desperately to the shape moving at full pelt below you, everything happening in such a blur you couldn't make sense of it.

You heard a door slam and lock, and finally the same strong arms that had made you feel welcome in this strange, scary place gently lowered you back to your feet from where you had been resting over Dae-Ho's shoulder.

"I wasn't taking any chances that time." He laughed out with a nervous smile when he saw your awestruck expression. Rather than risk losing you in the crowd again, he'd just held you tightly and ran as fast as he could to the first free room, never looking behind him because he knew he had everything needed with him.

You stared up at his bashful grin, his head shaking apologetically for the rough way he had handled you, feeling the sheer weight of the situation finally sink in. You were safely through another game. Because of him.

"We're safe! You kept us safe!" You cried out excitedly, your heart hammering in your chest at the realisation, your skin tingling with electricity where his hand still rested lightly on your back until he was sure you wouldn't fall.

"I told you I'd keep you safe." He said simply, offering you a small smile that felt so sincere you couldn't stop yourself from crashing your lips against it. Your hands reached over his shoulders to thread through his long black hair, desperately pulling him closer as if in this moment you two were the only people here. Like you would always be safe if you could stay this close.

Not losing a moment Dae-Ho arms wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground as he dragged you closer, diving into your kiss like it offered him salvation from your solemn surroundings. His teeth nipped against your bottom lip clumsily, all hungry desperation and making the most of every second, shutting out any noise from outside your little room; your little sanctuary, a place where everything would be okay.

As the lock on your door clicked open you both reluctantly parted, unsure if anything so sweet could exist in the rest of this foresaken place. Dae-Ho spoke first, goofy smile plastered across his face where once a worried grimace had been.

"We should go vote to leave, and then maybe I could buy you dinner with my winnings?"

[dannyz0ur]

Please I need a curly x reader fic where the reader see how stressed out Curly is and offers another way for him to relax…the cockpit has a lock…🙏 excited to see the fic if you chose to do this!

ok so a little short teehee~ i hope this delivers though!

You knew Curly just as well as any other crew member. He was a ray of sunshine, a beaming motivation in the midst of the sad grey ship you were all trapped in.

He was always cheering everyone up, saying words of ecouragement of advising them to take a break. Never did he show any signs of exhaustion, frustration, or anything else than joy for that matter. But you knew better than to assume he was fine. Of course being captain was an arduous task, he must've felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was so specially kind to you, or so it seemed to every other member of the crew.

You two had longer conversations after morning meetings and seemed to engage in playful banter while working, had your coffee together... y'know, stuff close friends do.

Little did everyone know how actually close you were. Or, well; right now, how close Curly was.

"Haah~ hun, keep that up and- shit..." He panted, gently pushing your head further down his cock. You knew just as well as he did that he wouldn't last long if you kept sucking him off like that.

Sometimes it was a blessing the cockpit had a lock.

And sometimes, the blessing was you, Curly thought.

The stress, the burden of being a captain would've driven him insane if he hadn't met you. Such a good friend at first, then gradually becoming fuck buddies one of those lonely nights at the Tulpar. You would either listen at him vent about his stress and burdens or make him forget about them with the warmth of your touch.

Not even five minutes later, you were bouncing on his lap, your plushy thighs and ass slapping against his muscular ones, the only sounds in the cockpit now were the wet plap plap plap each time he buried his length as deep as possible inside you, making your eyes roll back and your breath hitch, and the ragged breaths you two let out in an attempt to lessen the louder moans.

“G-gods… you’re- ahh- you’re amazing…” Curly mumbled in your neck, arms tightly wrapped around your waist while he helped you bounce up and down. “Captain~” you moaned, because you’d learned he has a thing for titles. At least when it comes to you. “You’re doing so good, hun… feels so good…” He always mumbled praises against your neck whenever he was close, it was his giveaway, so you gave your best to him until you were the first one to come—his request—and he followed soon after; whimpering your name.

Then you’d sit there for a moment, catching your breath, and after that you’d sneak out of the cockpit and into your respective quarters as if nothing had happened. But still, you both knew that it’d happen again and again. You were one of the few things keeping Curly sane.

Of course you’d do it, he was your Captain, he deserves it.

again, too short and took too long but here it is!! remember reqs are OPEN and here's my req sheet!

[imbadatwrighting]

PAIRINGS: dean winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader, sam winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader

SUMMARY: Sam and Dean don’t take too nicely to someone judging their sister even when she’s pretending to be a fairy.

a/n: i need to start writing more so i get more comfortable with it 😭🙏 i feel like this is honestly crap but I’m trying you guys but anyways thx for requesting anon :)

The Winchester brothers knew they had to pick their battles carefully. They barely got you out of the motel bed, today wasn’t the day to criticize you about your choice in clothing. Not even when they noticed you putting on fairy wings.

Sam only sighed, grabbing your hairbrush and walking over to you. It seemed the excitement of your fairy outfit finally got you energized. Which would be fine if you weren’t bouncing excitedly on the bed. “Stop moving, baby,” he muttered, as he carefully brushed your hair.

It seemed to go in one ear and out the other as you stopped for a max of one minute before bouncing and squirming again. It was a struggle to comb through the nightmare that was your bed hair without causing you any pain but Sam managed to get it done. He started putting your hair into sections like always, planning on braiding your hair just like you always wanted. "No, no," you whined, shaking your head to make him drop the pieces. "Fairies don't braid their hair," you pouted.

"Are you sure, honey?" he asked but as you nodded your head, Sam relented, letting your hair drop and giving you a kiss on the top of your head. "Go wait in the car with Dean; I got to go get ready," Sam murmured.

You giggled as you rushed out of the room, grabbing your frog stuffy and the cassette tape you made yourself. Fairies loved frogs—or at least you thought they did.

It was a little bit of a struggle to get out the door with your fairy wings, but you managed. When you got outside you could see Dean sitting in the driver’s seat listening to some of his music. You scurried over to the impala, hopping in the backseat and holding out your cassette tape.

“Dee, put this in! Please!” you grinned, shaking the tape to get his attention. Dean glanced at the tape before a loud laugh escaped his lips and he gently pushed your arm away. You pouted, leaning forward to put it in yourself.

Dean grabbed your arm within a second, not letting you move it anymore. “Did you suddenly forget the rules, babygirl? Driver picks the music not his little sister.”

“Then pick this!” you nagged, trying to fight against your big brother’s grip with no avail. “I made it myself, you gotta, Dee!”

“No,” Dean hissed, his eyes sharp as he turned to look at you in the backseat. “You’re lucky I’m not making you change out of that ridiculous outfit. I am not putting in that damn cassette tape!”

Immediately, Dean Winchester knew he lost the battle. His eyes softening as your sad frown formed and your eyes got glassy in what seemed like one millisecond. “You don’t like my outfit?” you asked, your voice wobbly.

Dean seemed to pause, internally cursing at himself for making you upset. “Of course I do, sweetheart,” he replied quickly, not sure what to say without sounding like an asshole or liar. With a small sigh, he held out his hand. “Give me the tape,” he muttered.

Your smile overtook your once sad expression and next thing you know you were tossing the cassette tape to your brother. As much as Dean wanted to hate what was going on, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate it too much when you seemed so happy. Instead silently replacing the once rock music your “cooler” music.

“Enya? I didn’t know you liked her,” Sam teased as he opened the impala’s door and sat in the passenger seat, not reacting to the glare Dean sent his way. His green cotton shirt and jeans replaced with a cheap suit matching Dean’s.

“Shut up,” your oldest brother grumbled, starting the impala. The engine hummed loudly as Dean took off from the motel already breaking speed limits ten seconds into the drive.

The house the impala parked in front of almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Not because of the expensive decorations outside the house or the size of it but the fact that as you pulled up you noticed from a small glance they seemed to have a huge backyard. “Do you think they’ll let me play in their backyard?” you asked, already undoing your seatbelt.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Dean shrugged, grabbing his fake FBI badge as Sam handed it to him and stepping out of the car. “Just ask nicely,” Sam added, as he ran a hand over the slight wrinkles of his shirt.

You were nodding along, looking in adoration as you walked up the steps behind your brothers. Your eyes gazing on the small water fountain out front as the door opened. The woman opening the door was young, maybe early twenties at most and definitely not the owner of the house. Not like your brothers cared though, showing off their badges but not without a sly smile from Dean.

“I didn’t know the FBI worked with Tinkerbell to solve crimes nowadays,” the woman voiced as her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrow slightly raised at the fairy wings and flowing dress. You didn’t react to her words, already moving to sit on the swinging chair on the porch as soon as your eyes landed on it.

Dean looked down at his little sister before back up at the woman. “It’s bring your kid to work day,” he smiled albeit awkwardly. The woman seemed to accept that answer, giving you a small glance before opening her door wider, a wordless invite in.

Dean whistled as he started his way in, catching your attention. You stood back up following your brothers inside while humming a short tune and making sure your wings didn’t get stuck on the door.

It was a hassle to get any answers out of the woman as they sat in the living room. She beat around the bush with every question, clearly having no intention to be helpful, and meanwhile you wouldn’t stop mumbling out your tallest brother’s name, trying to get his attention nonstop, while he pretended to take notes as the woman went on a tangent.

“Shush, babygirl,” Dean muttered just loud enough for only you and Sam to hear. His foot giving yours a small tap. You rolled your eyes but didn’t continue, rather leaning back on the couch and grabbing Dean’s hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“Can I go out in your backyard?” you suddenly blurted out as you remembered your previous wish. The woman seemed slightly taken aback but then pursed her lips. “I don’t want you to like mess something up out there, but, um, you could play in the front. Just don’t… touch anything.” Sam couldn’t help but notice the underlying tone behind her overly sweet voice but you seemed too distracted to notice, or care.

You were up and out of the room in seconds, rushing off to let your imagination run wild. Neither Sam nor Dean took much notice in it, just happy you weren’t tripping and scrapping your knees. But the other woman in the room didn’t seem to share the same thoughts as your older brothers, seemingly distracted as Sam and Dean tried to question her about the paranormal activity. “Is she like… special? Because I don’t judge but I really don’t want her messing up the garden, you know?” The woman asked casually, turning her attention back to the boys in front of her.

The tension in the room became suffocating. Dean’s jaw clenched, his patience hanging by a thread, but it was Sam who spoke first. He straightened slightly, his voice sharp and incredulous. “Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged as though she hadn’t just stepped on a live wire. “My daddy says people like her are mentally defici—”

Dean’s boots thumped against the floor as he stood up and closed the space between them in a single, furious step. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word cutting through the air like a knife. His green eyes were alight with anger. “I don’t give a shit what your father says, don’t talk about her like that.”

Sam moved quickly, stepping in front of Dean and pressing a firm hand to his chest. “Agent Smith!” he snapped, his voice a warning. It wasn’t like he wasn’t pissed off by the woman’s behavior, but he’d rather not have the police called on them because Dean couldn’t watch his mouth.

Dean’s gaze didn’t leave the woman, his entire body rigid with barely restrained rage. “You don’t get to talk about her like that,” he spat, his voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to talk about her at all. Do you hear me?”

The woman, clearly startled, stumbled back a step, her face paling. Sam kept his hand on Dean’s chest, though his own anger simmered just below the surface. “We’re done here,” Sam said coldly, his voice steady despite the tension in his frame. He gave Dean a small push back before turning away, not sparing the woman another glance.

Dean didn’t move at first, his fury still radiating off him, but when he heard the barely audible giggle from the front yard, his shoulders sagged just slightly. He pulled away from Sam and turned after handing his keys to Sam to unlock the car door, muttering under his breath as he headed off to get you. “She’s lucky I don’t—”

“Dean,” Sam warned again, his voice softer this time, and Dean let out a huff as he walked out the door. He found you crouched by the garden, your fairy wings slightly askew as you played with a stick and a patch of dirt. Without a word, Dean bent down becoming face to face with you. “C’mon, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “We’re getting out of here.”

You stood up as Dean grabbed your hand, humming slightly as you realized you weren’t playing FBI anymore. You didn’t bother to ask any questions as you silently followed behind your oldest brother. You leaned into his chest, tucking your face into his jacket.

Dean led you to the Impala, even buckling you into the backseat, checking your wings and seatbelt before slamming the door shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Sam slid into the passenger seat, turning his head to give you a weak smile before it dropped as he turned his head forward once again.

The Impala roared to life, and for a few moments, the only sound was the engine and the soft crinkle of your wings as you adjusted yourself in the backseat.

Sam broke the silence first, his voice low but calm. “Dean, you didn’t need to go that far.” Dean’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, but his voice was unwavering. “Yes, I did,” he grumbled.

Sam didn’t argue, and after a beat, Dean’s voice softened as he glanced at the rearview mirror, where you played with your stuffed frog once more. “You good back there, princess?”

You grinned at him, and all of Dean’s earlier worries seemed to go forgotten. “Good, Dee,” you hummed.

Dean’s lips twitched into a small smile as he turned his attention back to the road. Sam leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh, the tension finally easing as the Impala sped down the empty street, leaving the house—and the woman—far behind them.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Celebrations for Ruby's birthday are interrupted when Aberama arrives with claims of betrayal and a desire for vengeance.

Word Count: 5,478

Warnings: Violence, suicidal thoughts, and references to minor character death.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 7: Endless Night

When they got home, Tommy touched her gently by the arm. Eyes lowering, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I need to go talk to Lizzie about her letter.”

She frowned, wondering if now, on his daughter’s birthday of all days, was a good time to pick a potential fight with her mother. But she supposed that there was no point really in trying to put it off. 

“Okay. I’ll make myself scarce.”

He frowned at the wording, entwining their fingers and raising her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “I don’t expect we’ll be long.”

She gave him a peck on the lips. “Good luck.”

He gave her an agonized look that she was pretty sure was meant to be a smile, but came out as more of a grimace. Her fingers fiddled at her rings as she watched him head towards his office. Turning, she made her way towards the sitting room, hoping to seek out the kids or maybe one of the animals to keep her company. 

“Lucy!”

She started at the sound of Ruby’s voice, smiling when she spotted the little girl racing down the stairs towards her. 

“Hey, birthday girl!” She bent down to scoop her up, groaning overdramatically as she lifted her. “You’re getting so big, sweetheart! I won’t be able to carry you around for much longer.”

“Noooooo!” Ruby cried, but she was giggling toothily. Trailing behind her, Lizzie descended the stairs, heels clicking delicately against the floor.

“Tommy wants to see you in his office,” Lucy told her in a gentle voice. Lizzie just nodded, but her eyes darted to Ruby. “I got her.”

Lizzie reached out to stroke a lock of Ruby’s hair back. “You stay with Lucy, alright sweetheart? I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“And then we can have cake?”

Lizzie stifled a laugh. Lucy smiled. “Yes, sweet one.”

Ruby wriggled happily, watching with Lucy as her mother wandered away in the direction of Tommy’s office. Hitching her up higher on her hip, Lucy carried her from the stairway and into one of the nearby sitting rooms. Strategically far enough away from the office that, if any yelling started, Ruby hopefully wouldn’t be able to hear. With a huff, she collapsed back onto one of the couches, setting Ruby down on the cushion next to her.

“So. What did you get up to today, little miss? Hm?”

“Well…” Ruby giggled. “Mummy took me and Charlie to afternoon tea at the Midland.”

“Did she now? Did you have fun?”

Ruby nodded vigorously. 

“Did you get to open any of your presents yet?”

She pouted a little, dark doe eyes widening. “No. Mummy said not until after you and Daddy came home.”

“Ah. Well that was very thoughtful of her. I’m sure that your dad will want to see you open them.”

“Yeah,” Ruby shifted to snuggle into her side, picking at a loose thread on her dress. Lucy wrapped an arm around her, head cocking as she examined the little girl. Outwardly, she seemed her usual cheerful self. But there was something in the slight lowering of her eyes that made Lucy frown. 

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Uh huh. I just think that Mummy’s sad, is all.”

Your mummy is always sad, sweet one, Lucy thought, throat turning to sandpaper as she swallowed around the words. 

“It’s been…a bit of a difficult time at Daddy’s work lately, love. And it’s been affecting all of us. Including your mum.” She hoped that would be a good enough explanation about what was happening. Ruby frowned. “But hey,” she quickly moved to reassure the child, “your daddy will take care of it, eh? He always does.”

Ruby nodded. “Daddy takes care of everyone.”

“Yes, he does.”

A crease formed between her brows, those dark eyes darting to Lucy’s, wide with worry. “But who will take care of Daddy, Lucy?”

She felt her heart squeeze a little at the girl’s sweetness. Always a daddy’s girl. From the very moment she’d been born.

“I will, Ruby. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need to worry.”

“You promise?” Ruby’s eyes were beseeching. Lucy smiled down at her. 

“Yes, honey, I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, Ruby wrapped her little arms around her and nestled her head against her shoulder. Lucy stroked a hand over her hair.

“We can make it part of your birthday present, hm? What do you think?” she asked, hoping to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, Ruby grinning brightly. 

“Yeah! Okay!”

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” She kissed the top of her head. “Just you wait. Soon you’ll be old like me.”

“Noooo! I’m never gonna get old!” Ruby laughed. Lucy chuckled. “Can we play cards?” 

Lucy pressed her smiling lips together. Young as Ruby still may have been, it was her philosophy that you were never too young to start learning how to swindle at poker. She’d been teaching both the kids various card games since they were practically still in nappies. 

“Of course. I’m sure we can find a deck around here somewhere.”

It only took a little searching for them to find one, and they were just wrapping up their first game when Frances came in. 

“Miss. Winters, Mrs. Shelby asked that I take the children to the drawing room at seven for cake.”

At the mention of cake, Ruby bolted up from her seat and went racing for the door. Lucy smiled a little to herself, reaching across the table to gather up the cards and arrange them in a neat little stack. 

“Are you not coming, Miss?”

She looked up to find Frances still hovering in the doorway. She offered the housekeeper a weak smile. She had not been expressly invited to the celebrations going on in the next room. Nor did she feel bold enough to try to force her way into being included. Lizzie didn’t want her there, so she would respect her wishes. 

You are so fucking selfish.

The words had cut her deeper than she’d initially thought. Cycling in her head. Tormenting her. Leaving her to lie awake at night, staring up at the canopy, and wondering, for perhaps the thousandth time, if her presence truly was as massively damaging as Lizzie made it out to be. 

“They don’t want me there.”

“That’s not true, Miss.”

“Well, I’d rather not have to deal with Lizzie’s temper, today.” 

“Mrs. Shelby…she sometimes lets her jealousy get the best of her, but deep down, I don’t think she dislikes you nearly as much as you think.”

“Yeah,” Lucy whispered. She had thought that too, once. But as time went on it got harder and harder to believe. “Thank you, Frances.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll leave you be.”

She nodded gratefully, curling her legs under her on the couch, plucking up a book sitting on the end table. The room was dimly lit, not the best for reading, but it fit the mood she was in. As she flipped through it idly, Trouble crept out from wherever it was she had been hiding, and curled into her lap. 

It did not take long for her to hear the sounds of Lizzie and Charlie singing Happy Birthday to Ruby in the other room. Her throat tightened, chest suddenly aching sharply with the feeling of exclusion and loneliness. Snapping the book shut, she stood, scooping Trouble up into her arms. With quick steps she headed for Tommy’s office, where she was unlikely to hear the sounds of the family singing and celebrating. 

Setting Trouble down on a nearby armchair, Lucy picked up a few stacks of papers on Tommy’s desk, sitting down and beginning to look them over. Trouble found her way into her lap again, meowing in complaint everytime Lucy ceased petting her even for a moment. She wondered if the cat could sense her distress. It would explain why she was suddenly insistent on remaining so close to her.  

The door opened perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes later. Tommy’s heavy footfalls approached her slowly, coming to a stop right beside her. 

“I was looking for you.”

Lucy swallowed harshly, the action burning a little. She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come for cake?”

“Didn’t want to spoil things.”

“You could never spoil things.”

“Lizzie would disagree. I’m sure that she had a much nicer time without me there to pop her happy little bubble.”

“I didn’t have a nicer time.”

She finally looked up from the papers she had been pointedly keeping her gaze fixed on. He was standing over her, a plate containing a slice of chocolate cake with a silver fork balanced on the edge clutched in one hand. His eyes were tired and hurt.

Another sharp pang of guilt twisted like a knife in her heart. “I’m sorry.”

He examined her for a moment more, then looked away. “It’s alright.” It clearly wasn’t, but she didn’t really want to discuss it further. At least not right then. He held out the plate to her. “I brought you this.”

Setting aside her papers, she took it. “Thank you.” Watching him walk around the desk to sit behind it, she frowned at the continued look of open distress on his features. Trouble hopped off of her lap to follow him, brushing her little body against his ankles. “Did Ruby have a good time?”

“She loves her presents.” He shot her a knowing look which Lucy shied away from. They both were well aware that most of the gifts with his name on them had actually been purchased by her. 

“Good. That’s good.” Taking up her fork, she gathered up a small bite of the cake. It was dense and rich. Sweet on her tongue, with just the right edge of bitterness to keep the sweetness from being too overpowering. As she chewed, she eyed Tommy, worry growing by the minute. “Are you alright?”

He cleared his throat, looking away from her to some far off, distant point. “I got a call.” He didn’t need to specify from whom. “I asked them some questions about Michael, but they didn’t have anything of much use for us.”

“Okay…” That wasn’t really all that surprising, all things considered. Disappointing, maybe. But it didn’t seem like reason enough for him to appear so upset. “How did your talk with Lizzie go?”

He didn’t respond, still staring at a nondescript place on the far wall. Setting her fork down, she put the plate on the desk in front of her and leaned forward to try to get in his line of sight. 

“Tommy?”

He came to with a jerk, eyes snapping to hers. “Hm?”

“What did Lizzie say?”

The way that his face fell told her that she’d found the source of his sullen mood. Lucy tensed, preparing herself for whatever new venom Lizzie had chosen to throw at him. Tommy drew in a deep, painful breath. 

“She said that she took Ruby to Arthur’s because she’s scared of me.”

Lucy’s brows drew in. Already that made no sense. Ruby adored Tommy. Not once had she shown fear towards him. If anything it was the opposite. He was always the one that she wanted whenever she had nightmares or was frightened of the monster under her bed. 

But Tommy wasn’t done yet. “Lizzie says that when she knows I’m not coming home that she’s…different.”

Rage, hot and trembling, began to course through her. Her fingers balled into fists, little crescents digging into her skin as she fought to leash her temper.

How fucking dare Lizzie try to use that sweet girl to hurt him. She knew how much Tommy loved Ruby; how important she was; how cherished the relationship that they had was to his heart. 

One look at Tommy’s face, and she realized that was not all. There was something more. “What else?” she asked, working hard to keep most of the anger coursing through her out of her voice. 

Tommy smacked his lips together. His thumb was moving back and forth anxiously, she could see, where it was resting on his thigh. 

“She’s concerned that if I get killed, or end up offing myself, that there won’t be anything left for her.” He choked out a humorless laugh. “She thinks that if I’m gone, she’d take my place in everything.”

Lucy stared at him, eyes wide, mouth half agape. Lizzie thought that Tommy was going to die. She thought that he was on the precipice of death, that he was suicidal, and all she cared about was fucking money!? And she told him that!?

She opened her mouth to speak. Or maybe to just let out a scream of rage before flying out of her chair to go find Lizzie and throttle her, when the growl of an engine quickly approaching the house sounded from outside. 

Her brows knit. Tommy frowned, standing and going to peek out the window. A bark sounded from near the front door. Asher. 

“Tell Lizzie to get the kids upstairs,” Tommy said, springing into motion. Lucy nodded, rage momentarily forgotten as she hurried out of the office and to the drawing room. Lizzie was seated with Charlie and Ruby, playing with some of Ruby’s new toys. Lizzie looked up, saw her expression, heard the approaching engine, and shot out of her seat, taking both children by the hand and rushing them towards the stairs. Lucy gave her a quick nod in approval. At the very least, she could always depend on Lizzie to keep the kids safe.

Barreling from the drawing room, she met Tommy at the cupboard loaded with weapons. Her fingers flexed around the rifle he pressed into her hands, bringing the stock to rest against her shoulder. Together, they headed for the front entryway. 

Asher was still barking and growling by the door. “Stay, boy,” Lucy ordered. He quieted and sat down on his haunches immediately, though his brown eyes followed them as they went outside. Tommy plastered himself against the wall of the archway that curled over the front door, a hand signaling for Lucy to take position behind him, her side also pressed to the cold wall that was serving as their cover.

They remained completely still, just listening with hands gripping tight to their weapons. The car engine jutted to a halt, then shut off entirely in the driveway. One of the car doors opened, followed by a thud, and sharp groans of pain. 

Lucy frowned when she recognized the voice that started calling out Tommy’s name. “Is that Johnny?”

With fluid movements that greatly resembled that of a big cat, Tommy sprang into motion. Lifting his gun to level with the car as he stepped out onto the drive, he began shouting orders to the person still inside behind the wheel. Lucy followed behind, rifle raised to cover him. Her eyes squinted at the driver’s seat, trying to make out in the shadows who was seated behind the wheel. Johnny Dogs had been dumped out onto the ground, writhing and clutching at his side. 

When Aberama stepped out of the car, Lucy felt her breathing hitch in horror. He was bloodied, tears shining in his eyes. There was something half mad in them that made her skin prickle with alarm. She kept her rifle raised, just in case. Despite Aberama not holding any weapons in his hands.  

Her blood chilled as Aberama started to speak in a voice laced with tears. Telling them of how Bonnie had been strung up on a cross and shot while they were camping out in the wilderness. At Tommy’s question as to who had attacked them, he reached into his pocket, and threw a crumpled ball of paper to them. Lucy kept her rifle trained on Aberama as Tommy stepped forward to pick it up and unfurled it. She glanced over Tommy’s shoulder at the words scrawled in black, the paper stained red with blood. 

BY ORDER OF THE BILLY BOYS.

Her eyes snapped back to Aberama as he explained that only Johnny Dogs had known where they were camped. Johnny immediately started to try to insist on his innocence. That sent Aberama into a rage, lunging at him where he was still curled on the ground.

 Tommy put down his weapon and jumped between them, trying to wrestle Aberama off of Johnny. Lucy kept a careful distance away from them, rifle still raised in case she needed to use it. She couldn’t fire as long as they were all tussling together like that, though. She wouldn’t risk hitting Tommy, and she didn’t want to outright kill Aberama or Johnny either. At least not before they had a clearer understanding of what had happened. She could always shoot Aberama in the leg to incapacitate him. She didn’t want to, but she would if she had to. 

Tommy managed to pull the two men apart, and Lucy took a cautious step closer to Johnny, lowering her rifle a little. Taking hold of Aberama, Tommy started to try to calm him down and talk sense into him. As Tommy continued to speak, Aberama suddenly went still, his gaze turning cold. 

“They crucified my son…for you,” his voice had lowered considerably into a malicious murmur. 

Lucy brought her finger to rest on the trigger of her rifle at the same moment that Aberama lunged for the gun Tommy had left lying on the ground. He had just coiled his fingers around it, half raising it to level with Tommy’s chest, when two gunshots rang out sharply. 

But the bullets came not from Lucy’s gun, nor from Aberama’s. 

They came from Lizzie’s.

They all jerked with surprise, the thundering echoes of the gunshots reverberating all around them. Lucy felt her muscles lock with the preparation for a fight before she realized what was happening. Aberama drew back, hunching over himself as if expecting to be shot. Johnny cringed. Tommy’s eyes snapped to where the shots had come from, wide with shock and fury.  

Lizzie came barreling down the steps leading to the front door. The gun she’d just fired into the sky waved wildly at all of them. Her eyes were bulging and she was screaming, demanding that they all get away. 

“This is my house! And I don’t want you back. I don’t want you back!” She looked half out of her mind, the gun aimed squarely at Tommy’s chest. Lucy stared at her in shock. Fear locked around her throat when for one terrible moment, she actually thought that Lizzie might pull the trigger. 

Tommy recovered first from the silence and stillness that the outburst had stunned them all into. With quick footsteps, he walked his way over to Lizzie. Lucy tensed, half rising her rifle towards Lizzie when she didn’t lower the gun, panicking that Tommy’s approach would trigger her to fire.

But she didn’t, and he ripped the gun from her hand with ease, opening the chamber and dumping all the remaining golden bullets out onto the drive. Lizzie smiled spitefully, rabidness still gleaming in her eyes. 

Tommy stuffed the emptied gun into the front of his trousers, then stalked over to Aberama to snatch away the rifle still held limply in his hand. It seemed that the shock of Lizzie’s intervention had drained all his remaining will and strength, leaving him swaying dangerously on his feet. His face was pale, left arm limp at his side.

“You wanna take on the Billy Boys? You need me alive,” Tommy said to him, then turned to fix his gaze pointedly at Lizzie, voice raising. “Everyone fucking needs me,” he said, no small amount of bitterness enveloping the words. Lizzie sneered at him, hate shining bright in her eyes. Lucy wondered if she actually would have had it in her to shoot him. If maybe she even had wanted to. 

But her interruption had allowed Tommy to seize back control over the situation. Aberama slumped against a nearby stone bench with a soft groan, while Tommy ordered Lizzie back inside to call an ambulance for him. She gave each of them individually a look of deep contempt, but did as she was told, turning to stalk back into the house. 

“Stay with him,” Tommy said to Lucy while he moved to haul Johnny inside. She nodded, shouldering her rifle and going to sit beside Aberama. They sat in silence, watching as Tommy helped a sobbing Johnny through the front door. Aberama’s breathing was wheezing and labored. 

It was quiet inside the house for a while, likely as Tommy got Johnny settled in one of the rooms. But then there was muffled shouting, both Tommy and Lizzie’s voices distinctive in their raised volumes. 

“Do they always argue like that?” Aberama asked softly after a few minutes passed and the yelling didn’t cease.

“Yes,” Lucy mumbled, staring down at her hands. Tommy finally came outside at the sound of the ambulance approaching, speaking to the driver in a low voice before helping them to load Aberama into the back. 

“What about Johnny?” she asked, standing beside Tommy and watching as the ambulance pulled away.

“Maisie, Clara, and Sandra are taking care of him.”

She nodded. Their maids were no stranger to setting bones and sewing up wounds.

“That letter the Billy Boys left that Aberama threw at me,” Tommy began, “it was written in the same style and handwriting as the one that was on the scarecrow in the field with the landmines.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. In her mind, she could see Bonnie, strung up on a cross not unlike the scarecrow out in the field. “Oh…” she swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “At least we know who left us them, then.”

Tommy hummed. She looked over at him worriedly and reached out to rub his shoulder. “Johnny’s not a traitor.” There was a list–albeit a very short one–of the few people whom she knew in her bones would never betray them. Johnny Dogs was on that list. 

“Agreed.”

“So how did the Billy Boys find them?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. Lucy looked out across the grounds, towards where the thick smattering of trees began on the property. Her lip caught between her teeth.

“Maybe it was just bad luck.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“No,” she sighed, reaching up a hand to run over her hair. “Not really.”

“Come on,” he brushed a hand across her shoulder. “Let’s get inside.”

She followed him back into the house. While he went to go check up on Johnny, she returned her rifle to the armory. Just as she was closing it up, she heard heels clicking against the floor. Protectiveness flared fiercely inside her at the memory of Lizzie brandishing the revolver in Tommy’s face.

She told him she doesn’t care if he dies.

The wrath that had briefly been extinguished by Aberama’s arrival returned in full force.

Slamming the cupboard closed, she turned sharply, walking with rapid steps towards where Lizzie was standing in the doorway. Grabbing her firmly by one wrist, she started to half drag her into one of the adjoining sitting rooms. 

“Lucy!? Ow! What the fuck!?” Lizzie cried, and Lucy yanked her through the door, closing it behind them hard enough to nearly rattle the frame. The moment that she let Lizzie go, Lizzie took a step back from her, rubbing at the wrist she’d been gripping. 

“You and I need to talk,” Lucy said, eyes blazing.

Lizzie’s throat worked, drawing herself up to her full, towering height. But there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Lucy took a step forward, and when she spoke, her voice was icy calm. “You will never point a gun at him like that again. Ever. Do you understand me?”

Lizzie’s jaw worked, but she didn’t reply, instead just fixing Lucy with a defiant, stubborn expression. Lucy scoffed. 

“Enough of this. Alright? Enough.” She was so angry she was nearly shaking, but thankfully no tremor found its way into her voice. “Enough with the crying. And complaining. And the fucking temper tantrums every other bloody week.” She shook her head back and forth. “What are you doing? Do you really think that being hateful to me and using your daughter to hurt him is going to endear him towards you? Really? That’s your great master plan to make him fall in love with you?”

Lizzie let out a hiss and turned away, cheeks reddening.

“You fucking idiot.” Now that the words were pouring out, she couldn’t stop them. “If you’re going to leave, fine. Fucking leave. But don’t just sit around here, crying and complaining and dragging the rest of us down with you.”

“I do not–”

“Yes, you fucking do, Lizzie! God! It’s like living with a fucking see-saw! Do you understand? Do you realize how exhausting it is? And now on top of every other fucking thing I have to do, I have to worry about you pointing fucking guns at him, and telling him that your daughter’s scared of him.”

Lizzie shrank in on herself a little.  

“You know, I see two possibilities here: either you’re a terrible mother, who has willingly brought your child back into an environment where you know she’s uncomfortable and frightened. Or, you were just saying that because you wanted to hurt him as deeply as you know how.”

Lizzie’s eyes met hers sheepishly, and she had the answer that she already knew. 

“Despite everything, I know you’re not a terrible mother. You’d never have brought her back here if you genuinely thought she was scared of him.”

Lizzie still said nothing, eyes staring back into Lucy’s, defiance slowly ebbing from them at being caught in her lie. 

“You know how much he loves her,” Lucy shook her head. “You know that he would do anything for her. How could you do that to him?”

Lizzie at least had the decency to look a little guilty. “I’m sorry–”

“Oh please. No you’re not!” Lucy laughed humorlessly. “You always fucking do this, Lizzie. You throw some big, grand temper tantrum and then you act all apologetic after the fact. As if that immediately absolves you of everything. It doesn’t. My guilt can’t absolve me of the crime of fucking your husband, and your apologies cannot erase the hurt that you’ve caused. Especially when you keep doing it over and over again.”

She drew in a deep, harsh breath at the end of her rant, taking a step away from Lizzie. Stalking to the windows, she looked out at the dark grounds, fingers toying with each other. In the reflection in the glass, she could see Lizzie still standing motionless in the same spot she’d been in while Lucy yelled at her. Staring at the wall as she processed her words. Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, returning her gaze to outside. Even as she felt Lizzie finally look over at her. 

“You’re scaring me, Lucy,” she said finally in a quiet voice. 

Lucy took no pleasure in the statement, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Looking down, she nodded once to herself. 

“Good.” She turned to face Lizzie. “I think that you’ve forgotten who exactly it is you’re dealing with, here.”

Lizzie stared at her with wide, wounded eyes, and Lucy felt a stab of guilt for how harsh she’d been. But she shoved it away. Because when it came to protecting Tommy, nothing else mattered. 

“Pull yourself together,” she commanded, raising her chin. “Or I will put an end to the entire fucking thing. You know I can. All I have to do is ask him to leave you, and he will. Like that,” she snapped her fingers. The crack seemed to echo throughout the room. “I’m almost fucking there, Lizzie. Because you can hurt me and take jabs at me and say as much hateful shit about me behind my back as you want. But you’re hurting him now. And I won’t allow that.”

The look Lizzie fixed her with was wounded and angry, but also contemplating. Lucy wondered if, just maybe, she had gotten through to her a little.

“We’re friends, Lucy,” Lizzie said, after another moment of silence. For some reason, Lucy found the idea hilarious, bursting into a round of helpless, quiet giggles and shaking her head. 

“No. No; we’re not. That was just a pipe dream.”

Lizzie shuffled a step closer to her. “That’s not true.”

“You’re just saying that to manipulate me. Like you always have. You’ve never actually given a shit about me. It’s all just been about trying to get closer to him.”

“No…it hasn’t…”

“Do you really not see how I may have started to think that every time you’re nice to me, it’s only because you want something?”

Lizzie looked down at her hands, ringing them together. “I love him, Lucy,” she finally said helplessly. 

“No,” Lucy whispered, shaking her head furiously. “Tell me, how exactly did you phrase it, Lizzie? When you were talking about your concerns regarding his potential death? How did you say it?” Her voice had dropped so low it was a miracle Lizzie could hear her. When Lizzie didn’t immediately respond, she raised an eyebrow. “Tell me,” she coaxed. Lizzie shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

“I said, I’ll need to know there will be something left.”

Lucy blinked slowly, letting the words sink in and digest. “I need to know there will be something left,” she repeated back at her. Lizzie let out a shaky breath. Lucy shook her head. Her voice remained soft. “No. I don’t know what the fuck this is, but it isn’t love. Someone who loves someone wouldn’t be so focused on making sure that there will be things left for them when faced with the idea of their love’s death.”

Lizzie looked down at her hands. Lucy examined her face, watching the way that her expression fell to one of confliction and exhaustion. She raised a hand to wipe at her eyes, breaths turning shaky.

Lucy inhaled sharply, pulling away before she could allow herself to feel too terrible for making her cry, heading for the door without another word. 

She found Tommy in one of the upstairs bedrooms with Johnny, standing by the window and smoking as the maids finished bandaging Johnny’s ribs. 

“You alright?” she asked Johnny, coming to stand by the bed. He gave her a weak smile. 

“Hurts like a bitch to breathe, but I’ll live.” He looked at the maids tending to him. “Especially with these lovely beauties to look after me, eh?”

Sandra blushed and looked down at her hands. Maisie and Clara–both more seasoned and familiar with Johnny’s antics–chuckled and fondly rolled their eyes. 

“Good,” Lucy gave him a light pat on the shoulder before going over to Tommy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a heavy sigh, reaching over to stub his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. 

“Right, Johnny. If you’re alright, we’re going to go to bed.”

Johnny nodded, waving them away. Tommy took her hand, and they began the walk to their room. 

“He have anything significant to say?” Lucy asked.

“Nothing useful.”

“Mm.” That wasn’t that surprising. “I don’t like the connection to the Billy Boys. Especially after that whole business between them and Michael. It reeks of…something.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I talked with Lizzie.”

“Oh?”

“Yelled at her, is probably the more appropriate description,” she paused as he opened the door to their room, holding it wide for her to duck inside first. Trouble was curled up on the bed, asleep, though she stirred and meowed at them after Lucy flicked on the lights. Tommy closed the door behind them. “I feel a little bad about it, now.” 

“Don’t be. She’s needed a good talking to for awhile, now.”

“You don’t even know what I said to her.” She moved to sit at her vanity to take off her earrings. They settled in the little dish she kept them in with a clink. 

Tommy kissed her on top of the head, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat. “I trust you.”

Lucy smiled, grabbing a cloth to start wiping away her makeup. The smile faded quickly. “Things between you and her are getting worse.”

“Now what gave you that idea?” He flashed her a humorless smile that came out as more of a grimace, then sighed. “I’ll deal with it.”

“She pointed a gun at you.”

“She did.” 

She parted her lips to speak, then paused, considering her words before finally deciding to utter them. “If she had shot you, I would have killed her.”

Tommy glanced over at her, and smiled sadly. He reached out, resting a hand at the base of her neck, drawing her close so he could press a kiss to her lips. “I know, love.”

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[skay-ali]

I give up, I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired

Hey, Lord, you know I'm tired of tears

Hey, Lord, just cut me loose

You hummed a song, even if all that liquid ran through every part of your body, without the strength to move you continued repeating the notes.

Your view began to change, it was no longer an empty white room, now the dark place in which you were locked, lamenting without the strength to move from the worn mattress on the floor, now a beautiful light filtered through your eyes.

"oh lord make everything stop, I surrender"

"I give up"

"I'm so tired of trying"

"I give up"

You opened your eyes, you only remembered the rays of light that invaded your vision, you could barely move before being invaded by a new place.

A smiling girl appeared before you, always seeing you, giving you a charming smile and recognizing that she saw you, very different from the other people who only recognized the girl but never recognized you, didn't you exist?...

You saw yourself dragged to follow the girl, the only one who could act with her surroundings, you saw her try to continue being happy with her surroundings.

The little girl followed her father, she called him dad with so much love, as if her life depended on him, always giving him a smile with eyes full of light and adoration, unlike the girl, the father only left her aside and was cold. The girl always ended up running and taking your hand, you felt her small body tremble, her lips joined together and formed a grimace, eyes, oh hairy eyes full of an innocent shine... they changed for another shine, when stopping at a door and hiding in a corner of a large room, the girl would let go of his hand and shed many tears...

For some reason they could play together, unlike the girl and her brothers, who never accepted her invitations and pushed her away.

Even with a crown and a beautiful dress, with a large tea set, you saw the little girl collapse in tears, while she ate some cookies and cakes.

That was until she took your hand again, after so many times she took it, you returned the touch, maybe it was hurt or the affection that you began to show her.

I take you to a large table, in another of the thousands of lonely rooms of the large house where I lived. In a second the large empty table changed.

There you were lying down, feeling a lot of pain.

"What... what's happening" you were scared when you were lying on a table being watched by the same girl who always smiled at you, now she was wearing a fake smile very different from the ones full of hope and love she had, dull eyes looking at you, a corpse was your new spectator.

"What??? did you do to me" scared you looked at the quiet girl.

"Not you who made me... who made us" his voice is broken, full of fear.

"we were never supposed to cross that line"

Then you remembered it with great horror... you were that girl, you lived through all that torment to which you were insensitive, you did this... being lying on a large table with a beautiful dress, and a bottle next to you .

Oh all this pain...

Yes, you are in your great suffering, a great party, a few more minutes and they would find you, thousands of eyes would see you, they would witness your madness.

And then no one would look at you, not even in that hospital where you were recovering from your act, some men dressed in uniform later took you, even when you resisted, cried and begged your beloved father not to leave you in that place, not to let you.

would abandon You asked and promised to be a good girl, to be everything he asked of you... anything but he wouldn't let you.

You only saw him look away and leave.

You cried, you cried a lot, as you always did, but this time there were endless days, where you felt nothing but pain, your heart hurt so much.

You felt so weak in this new place, but not only sadness, you didn't sometimes feel so much anger for... your beloved family.

And then more sadness, you needed them, no matter how much you hated them, you loved them, you felt like you were dying without them, just thinking about one of your brothers or father gave you a flood of tears.

You gave up all your life you did, since you were little, but lately, you gave up on everything around you.

And you didn't want to suffer anymore, for insignificant things.

But it was too late and you were nothing more than a disaster.

And you gave up on everything around you, you were just a spectator to your eventual end.

But that smile, that girl...

you Was there anything else waiting for you?

You would damage that girl's dream

And you would just leave

[witchygagirlwrites]

Kelly Severide x Reader x Matt Casey

Vibes based off Fix What You Didn't break by Nate Smith

Edit and request by @desimarie12

When you started at fifty one it was a temporary position. Someone to help out as a partner for Sylvie until someone permanent could be found. Matt and Kelly never knew they'd find the one person who could repair their hearts the day you came sweeping into the doors of the station house.

You were quiet at times you should be loud and loud when you should be quiet, unbearable at night because you barely slept, acted like you couldn't exist without music and drank more coffee than rescue squad combined. 

You could also talk everyone into a snowball fight at two in the morning. You made the best pancakes and somehow could guess everyone's favorite color within a few minutes of talking to them.  You picked up on people's moods and could figure out if they needed someone to vent to, help finding a solution or just a distraction from whatever was plaguing them at the moment.

The day Kelly started to fall was actually Shay’s birthday. You didn’t know what the day was or why everyone, including Matt, was even giving him such a wide berth. He’d locked himself in his quarters where he planned to stay until a call came in but then you came knocking. He hadn’t looked up the first time but you were nothing if not persistent.

When he finally stood and unlocked the door you walked past him and sat down on the edge of his desk “Do you want to talk about it?” he sat down in the chair about a foot from you and stared you down “About what exactly?” 

The smile you gave him was one you normally reserved for trying to calm patients but he could tell it was genuine nonetheless “Whatever it is that’s bothering you so much even Matt hasn’t hardly looked your way. Your shoulders and jaw are so tense my muscles are hurting looking at them and your eyes look so damn sad”

He didn't know what it was but staring into your eyes he couldn't keep that wall up no matter how hard he tried. He found himself telling you all about Shay. By the time he was done you were standing next to the chair with your arms around his shoulders and his head was leaned over on your stomach “I'm so sorry Kel. I can't imagine losing someone like that. I've never had anyone mean that much to me. Just remember those we love are never truly gone as long as we carry them in our hearts. Any time you want to talk about her, come and find me. I'll be glad to listen” 

He probably should've been embarrassed, falling apart like that. Not showing a stronger front but he couldn't find that emotion in himself. He felt better after talking to you, a little less broken. He had no idea how you managed to have that quality about you, a tornado of a thing but yet here you were calming those around you. The eye of the storm and helping to calm it down. 

“Thank you darlin” he whispered and saw a smirk slip onto your face “Darlin huh? Listen at you being all sweet. She must have been one hell of a woman to have that effect on you”

The day Matt started to fall was when all of you responded to a call with another station house. You were working triage as they bought victims out of a warehouse fire.

The way you handled yourself as you worked the tent was extraordinary. You were helping Sylvie along with the medics from the other house. Moving from patient to patient, offering them a kind smile and never showing any sign of exhaustion.

When he went in he could hear your voice across the radio, behind Chief Boden yelling at the other house's men. He had no clue what was going on so he and Kelly worked continuing to clear the floor they were on until Boden called for them to clear out.

When they made it out you were currently being held back by Cruz and Capp from arguing with the captain of the other house. “Woah. Why is my medic trying to kill you?” He asked and you stopped fighting to turn towards the sound of his voice “This asshole decided to tear a wall down when Boden told him not to and forced the flames back towards you and Severide. That's why the clear out had to be called”

He turned to the other captain “Why didn't you listen to my chief?” The other captain shrugged “You have to take risks every now and then Casey” then glanced towards Kelly “Ask your boyfriend. We all know his track record” 

“That's it!” You yelled and dove over Cruz’s shoulder and Matt barely caught you as Boden ordered the other captain off the scene.

He carried you over to the triage tent before sitting you down. You were still breathing heavy and glaring at the members of the other house “Assholes want to endanger my captain and lieutenant then act like it wasn't a big deal”

“Your captain and lieutenant?” He asked and you shrugged “Until Boden finds a permanent partner for Sylvie” a smile slipped onto his face “I don't know you're sounding like you belong here” and you grinned “Maybe I just have decided you two won't take care of yourselves so someone needs to”

Kelly and Matt stood in their kitchen across from each other at the counter, both silent drinking coffee. “Y/N's contract is up this month” Kelly broke the silence.

“We're not letting her leave are we?” Matt asked and Kelly shook his head “Not without an effort to get her to stay”

______________

The day they finally got up the nerve to ask you if there was any way you'd let the two of them take you out you surprised them with letting them know you were officially a permanent fixture of fifty one.

"What made you decide to stay?” Matt asked as the three of you walked by the waterfront. You looked between them then shrugged “Maybe I like my captain and lieutenant just a little bit”

You wouldn't let either of them get in their heads. If Matt pulled away from Kelly you were pulling him back and vice versa. If Benny came around making Kelly doubt himself you were there, reminding him how good of a man he truly was.

Neither of them knew what it was about you. Was it the fact that you were wild where they were calm and the calm where they were wild? Was it the fact that you could see through any facade they put up and pinpoint exactly what was going on in their heads at the moment? 

You were the light to lead them home no matter the storm and always shined bright. When you would curl up between them and make sure to be touching them both before falling asleep, when they'd find you the next morning wearing one of  their shirts and dancing around the kitchen while the coffee made. 

When they would see your eyes tracking them on a scene and how your shoulders relaxed when they walked out. When they would have their absolute worst days but then come home and you would curl up on the couch and ask them to watch a movie and that day would melt away?

Yeah. You didn't realize it but you saved them. With your love, your spirit and just the person you were. 

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 12

Kay, I think Big Kitty might need a break. Besides, there's another prince that needs some attention.

Premise: The Briar Prince takes his spouse to an interesting festival, acting odd

Words: 2,023

Music Inspirations: Let Me Be Sad - I Prevail

~~~Grieving Period~~~

               Wind filters through the open window. Sunlight rains down on my skin. Serene in the warmth, I see his face. Those perfectly cute ears nestled in his shining hair flicker—I just want to reach out and pinch them. Green eyes blink behind those dark lashes, glittering like gems. His smile is gentle, so full of genuine love. As his head tilts, showing me that adoration, I feel the shudder in my chest.

               “There you are.”

               Eyes snap open. Rather than the lion prince, before me lies an open window with the briar garden far below. A hand lifts to brush away the drop that managed to escape before I face my husband.

               With practiced control, my tone remains even. “My apologies, were you looking for me?”

               I can only wonder what thoughts flicker behind the scrutiny he searches me with. If the pursing of his lips is any indication, it may not be in my favor.

               It’s by his purest grace that my infidelity hasn’t been exposed. I was, however, thoroughly questioned and had all my belongings searched—for which I can’t blame him. Since our wedding, those chains binding me to the future fae king have been tightened and almost always there’s a guard at my side, watching. My privacy comes only in rare moments in the bathroom. Even my magestone was confiscated to prevent any portal magic. In every way, I’ve become his, just as Leona’s words accused.

               He speaks concisely. “I plan on venturing into the city. Would you care to join me?”

               I’ve never been asked to join him on a social outing before—not unless it required the illusion of a blissful couple.

               Before I can answer, he adds, “You’re welcome to refuse if you’d prefer.”

               That’s not how this relationship works. “I would be honored.”

               “Very well. Can you be ready shortly?”

               “If you give me ten minutes.”

               He agrees to that concession and leaves me to prepare for our trip among the citizenry. Most of that ten minutes actually consist of me trying to clear my head of far-away fantasies, yet I do make myself presentable and meet my husband downstairs in the foyer along with his usual retinue of Sebek and Silver.

               Silver, ever polite, bows his head. “Your highness.”

               Sebek simply mimics the gesture, but not the greeting.

               “Are you ready?” the prince asks.

               “I am. Where is it we venture to today?”

               His hand waves our path to the castle entrance. “There’s a small festival in the city today. I’m told the theme is peaches.”

               His lead I follow. “A festival of peaches?”

               “It’s a small event usually held in another village, but some few citizens have chosen to celebrate here this year.”

               “Why peaches?”

               “I’ve heard that it’s something about a large fruit that carried a child away from a terrible family and into the care of a wonderful new one. I would assume it’s a peach based on the celebration.”

               My bows furrow. “How…interesting.”

               “I thought so too.”

               My husband was indeed correct in that only a few people would be celebrating this event; however, within our large city, the event had garnished the attention of a still sizeable number.

               Immediately, the smell of baked goods floats through the air, most prominently, peaches. A small amphitheater for various events has been occupied with the surrounding streets sectioned off for guests to wander to and fro among the various stalls. Most are filled with peaches served in various manners which I admit look tempting to taste. Others have some curious manner of festival souvenirs that I intend to investigate later. For now though, front and center of the theater sits a short stand which boasts possibly the largest fruit I’ve ever seen—at least up to my husband’s shoulder.

               “That thing’s huge,” Silver comments.

               I nod. “Surely it’s not real.”

               An attendant turns to us, full of enthusiasm. Unfortunately, some of that excitement dials back at the sight of the future king, but he still attempts to convey the thrill.

               “Oh this is most certainly a real peach. It’s not quite as large as the one in Chernabog Hollow, but it was specially grown for the festival.”

               Sebek, not so impressed, folds his arms. “Specially grown? How?”

               A finger taps his lips. “By our expert botanist mages.”

               “It’s a trade secret, Sebek,” the heir says. A wry smile pulls at his lips. “Though I’m sure it would be child’s play to discern.”

               This flusters the man.

               “And they say a giant peach whisked away a child from his horrible home?” I ask, only a tint of jealousy in the back of my mind.

               “Oh yes! But that one was as big as a house and flew with the aid of birds and a bit of magic of course.”

               I point to the variety of creepy crawlies decorating the stand. “And what, may I ask, are those for?”

               “The boy’s companions! The magic granted the boy, not only his vessel to freedom, but also the new family that would cherish him always.”

               Again, Sebek’s cynical. “He was raised by bugs?”

               “These were no mere insects. They too grew to extraordinary sizes and gained incredible intelligence for insects.”

               While I’m thoroughly skeptical of the tale, it’s certainly interesting.

               “What will you do with the peach after the festival?” Silver asks.

               “Actually, we’ll start carving into it shortly. Rather than waste any food, we’ll be making peach cobbler.” He waves to the set up commencing off to the side. “We would be honored for you to return for a slice once we’ve begun dishing plates out.”

               I differ that decision to my husband, who gives it little thought. “Time permitted, we may take you up on that offer.”

               “Of course, your Majesty,” he bows deeply. “Until then, please enjoy the festival.”

               The fae lightly tilts his head in acknowledgement before ushering me along. We trail our way through the festival, admiring the trinkets, attractions, and food on display. Yet further ahead, something else catches my eyes—something unrelated to the event. There’s a couple, arm in arm, happily ambling the stalls. A secret whispers between them, eliciting laughter that infects them both. That look of endearment between them is meant solely for each other, but that soft, sweet kiss stokes the envy.

               “Would you like a taste?”

               His question shocks me from my lament. At my side, my husband offers the treat in his hand. It almost seems silly to see the heir holding an ice cream cone, but he often did enjoy the dessert. Still, despite the gesture, his expression is rather empty.

               “Okay.”

               Before I can reach for the offering, his arm extends further. Apprehension snags in my throat, but the hesitation is only miniscule as I lean forward to taste. All effort focuses on the peach flavor of the cream and not the last time someone shared their dessert with me.

               Carefully composed, I look back at him. “It’s good. I didn’t know they made peach ice cream.”

               “It’s not a common flavor, but it’s intriguing. Shall I get another?”

               I’d rather not share another taste. “Yes please.”

               With my own ice cream to occupy me, we continue our tour. Throughout the day, we’ve spent maybe three hours interested in this little festival. However, it comes to an end as Sebek reminds his liege of a meeting he’s meant to attend soon. At that, we agree to return to the castle.

               “What did you think of our adventure today?” my partner asks as we cross the road away from the event.

               “It was nice. I never would’ve guessed there was a festival out there dedicated to a large fruit.”

               “Yes, it was quite peculiar,” he agrees. “But did you enjoy yourself?”

               My thoughts skip; he’s never concerned himself with my wellbeing before.

               “Ah, careful!”

               A hand slips beneath my arm, pulling me away from the road and right into his chest. Behind me zooms a carriage that misses only narrowly. As the driver pulls to a halt, asking if we’re okay, Sebek storms off in a rage, Silver close behind to mitigate the situation.

               That leaves me here alone, in the arms of my husband.

               Peering up, I can’t make sense of that expression. Again, he’s looking for something but with what appears to be little success. Yet without his answers, the prince bows his head.

               The moment our lips connect, apprehension ripples through me. Disgust in myself quickly floods after, knowing that there is no love here. But rather than shrink away, I grant every demand he makes.

               On two hands I could probably count the number of times I’ve shared a kiss with this man despite our lifetime of affiance. Each and every one of them had been short and to the point, meant as performances for various audiences. This one, however, is different. There is no audience and he’s searching for something I know not. Perhaps he’s testing my loyalty, expecting me to push him away. Or maybe he’s finding openings which require guarding, that I may never stray again. Whatever it is, the dragon delves deeper.

               His hand behind my head deepens the kiss, the other pulling me flush against him. Following that lead, I grip at the front of his coat and lean against his sturdy frame.

               A flash of that loving lion stabs my heart. Fists clench tight through the pain, praying that the agony remains absent from my lips.

               Finally, the kiss breaks, his cool lips grazing mine a moment longer before he fully retreats. Again, there’s a search that proves unfruitful. I’ve never seen him so contemplative in regards to me.

               I ask, against my better judgement, “What’s wrong?”

               Whatever conclusion he’s drawn he comes to terms with. “It’s nothing. If you’re unharmed, shall we return to the castle?”

               “Of course.”

               He gives a single nod; however, the extension of his hand is a surprise. There will be no refusal on my part though. It’s a strange feeling, our hands clasped together, like being tethered to be escorted home. Not much conversation floats between us, the awkward air too stale to break. It’s quite the relief to return to the castle where we part to see to other tasks.

               Those tasks aren’t enough of a distraction. The fae had some sort of intention behind inviting me out but I can’t put my finger on it. I could say that it was his attempt to endear his people with our public display of affection, but not many were around to even see and that only occurred due to a near accident. I don’t know what he wants from me and that cultivates unease.

               When the day comes to an end, I prepare for the night and so too does my husband. Silence blares between us, made prominent by the day’s events. I think he may still be contemplating whatever’s been on his mind.

               The heir sits on the edge of the bed as I draw the blanket higher. All is still for a moment before he joins me beneath the covers. My insides seize as an arm slips across my waist, dragging me across the mattress until my back meets his chest. It takes a second or two before I relax in his grasp, but my mind swirls with confusion and pain. Even he doesn’t seem all that comfortable, his grip slightly too tight.

               All I can imagine is that I could be doing this in someone else’s bed, equally eager to return the embrace. Instead, I’m thankful that my back is to him, teeth gnashing together to keep the sorrow in. Tears, on the other hand, I have no means to keep at bay.

               Eventually, sleep takes my turbulent conscience under.

~~~~~

               Cold light glows across my face, rousing my hazy thoughts. Curled tightly, I stretch my aching limbs until I finally manage to sit up. As I rise, I note the abundant space on my half of the bed. A tilt of my head shows me the other side where the dragon soundly sleeps, his back to me.

               I guess such gestures were simply too much for either of us.

~~~~~

Part 13 (Coming Soon)

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[toxic-teller]

Untitled Batfam/Squid Game cross over fan fic

Summary: a sad fan fic where the batfam are in a squid games-esc game playing dodgeball and it comes down to Jason and Tim as the last players on each side but Tim is too scared to say anything so it’s up to Jason to decide whether his team lives or dies and I gave the surviving Robin crippling survivors guilt as they refuse to open their eyes and witness their brother dead on the floor.

Background info: This is chapter 3 of a WIP a few people asked me to post. Basically Bat fam in a squid games situation were forced to split up into two to play dodgeball. They didn’t get to choose the teams and they get one minute to strategize before the game started. The transparent wall kills anyone who crosses it. All of which is explained in chapter one that I haven’t written yet lol. Not important but the teams are Alfred, Tim, Stephanie, Damian, Roxy Rocket, Harley Quinn, Deathstroke, Penguin, and Two Face. The others are Bruce, Selina, Jason, Tiffany, Lucius, Kate, Riddler, Killer Croc, and Scarecrow. If there are any grammar mistakes, just know I’m illiterate. Enjoy!

Ever since they broke off into teams, Alfred had not taken his eyes off Bruce. And while Bruce had done an excellent job at hiding his grief for Dick and Luke, Alfred knew better. Bruce may have been putting on a Batman exterior, but his eyes held the same look as the recently orphaned eight year old latching onto his petticoat, unsure of how to answer Officer Gordon’s questions about his parents’ murder.

Unsure.

Seeing his younger master unsure was what terrified him the most. If it wasn’t for the transparent wall having split the court, Alfred would have been over with his adopted son helping him plan, but instead he was standing with his grandkids attempting to figure out what to do while those that terrorized their nightmares were trying to convince them to win instead of throwing the game.

“Oh please! Like they aren’t over there talking the same shit!” Penguin squawked. “They’re going to kill us all the second they get and be thrilled we’re dead!”

Stephanie clinched her hands, “we need to delay the game! As long as possible at least!”

Roxy laughed, “I’m with this one. Make it exciting!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Deathstroke snapped.

“Aw come on, Willy,” Harley pouted. “Don’t be mean. The poor girl just wants her fake family to rescue them! There’s no chance they will in time, but these hero types always have a hope in them that’s hard to shake.”

“Quinn,” Damian ordered, “please stop talking. We have less than a minute to plan.”

“Planning our own deaths,” Mad Hatter shot. “You hero types never pass up an opportunity to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. No, we gotta throw all of them in the front lines and make sure they get out fast.”

“You want to throw the three most physically fit members of our team under the bus?” Deathstroke pointed out sarcastically. “Great idea.”

“Fuck you!” Stephanie snapped, raising a fist. “You had no problem pushing Dick down! If it wasn’t for you, he’d be alive!”

Deathstroke rolled his eye. “I told you, I slipped.”

Stephanie threw the first punch which lead to a loud argument of people holding each other back, screaming over each other, and otherwise preforming a mockery of teamwork. Alfred almost joined the fray before turning and noticing Tim was not in the circle. He was standing close to the barrier and staring ahead at the other team.

Alfred approached him, wincing from his now relocated shoulder. “Master Drake, is everything okay?”

Tim shook his head vaguely. “We’re going to die. All of us here. We’re all going to die.”

Alfred’s heart sunk into his stomach, but he kept a gentle expression. “Why do you say that?”

Tim gestured to Bruce in their much more cooperative group huddle. “Batman doesn’t know what to do. I’ve been watching him, Alfred. He hasn’t said a word in their meeting. He also hasn’t let any of us move far away from him. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He’s trying to spend what little time he has left with us. I’ve seen him be less protective when Darksied nearly wiped all of humanity, but… he’s completely given up now.”

The lump in Alfred’s throat grew bigger. He placed his good hand on his shoulder and felt Tim shaking under his palm. “That doesn’t mean there’s no hope, Master Timothy.”

Tim shook his head. “Alfred, don’t try to pretend. We both know we’re not making it out of this school alive.”

Alfred didn’t know what to say as he secretly agreed. Fortunately, the whistle blew so he never had to come up with the words. “Planning period over. The game is about to begin. I repeat. Planning period over. The game is about to begin.”

Everyone got into a vague position to start. All of the inmates were at the front with the bat family further away from the center. Five balls dropped from the ceiling as a new ten minute timer started ticking down. The villains all ran for the balls and started throwing. Alfred and Lucius were not nearly young or healthy enough, and unsurprisingly were benched quickly. All the vigilantes were moving on instinct and muscle memory rather than a desire to live. Each time a ball got caught, someone else was called back in, but that was the only time the bat family spoke. Other than that, they were dodging as best as they could. The only two who were having any resemblance of fun was Harley Quinn and Roxy Rocket who couldn’t help but taunt and jeer at every person who got out. Once both were knocked out by a well aimed throw from Kate, the court was silent because of rule #3. It was obvious those on the bench wanted to say something, but none of them were willing to be shot just to make fun of someone being hit.

Reguardless of where they stood morally, both teams were all were nervous to be playing. All kept subconsciously glancing to Batman every few seconds for a way to get out of the situation entirely. Unfortunately, Batman was not playing the game. No matter how hard he tried, Bruce was the one on the court. Bruce found it impossible to ignore their glances at him for answers.

Similar to red light/green light, after each person was eliminated a whistle blew from no where and their name was called, except this time it wasn’t followed by a gunshot. That didn’t mean Bruce’s heart rate didn’t go up with each blow of the whistle. He kept seeing Dick’s face blown apart by a sniper rifle at too close range, hearing Luke’s chest ripped open by the same gun and Tiffany screaming in fear. Even Clayface and Bane perishing in an equally hideous display crossed his mind. He didn’t want anyone else to die, not even the Arkham inmates. It was senseless violence. All of it. Even then, as Two Face hurled a ball at Riddler’s bad leg with the intention of hurting him more, there wasn’t a reason for it.

Bruce kept trying to rationalize the scene. He was playing dodgeball in an elementary school with his family and enemies. That was the extent he could go. When he managed to get a ball in his hands, all he could think to do was roll it on the ground so no one got out. It was completely pointless. If that timer hit 0 everyone would be dead. Someone was going to have to decide who lives.

Bruce only became aware of his movements when he allowed himself to be hit by a disbelieving Tim who stood alone on the opposite side. Bruce didn't say anything and selfishly walked back to the stands. The ball that bounced off Bruce had rolled back to Tim’s side of the court, hitting his shoe.

“I-I thought he was gonna catch it,” Tim stuttered to the sole member of the other team.

Jason laughed humorlessly. “Bats not sacrificing himself for the greater good? You’re kidding yourself.”

Tim unsteadily picked up the ball at his feet, an unwilling passenger in his own body. He held the ball in his hand shaking violently but felt as though it was ten feet away. He could hear the countdown on the timer. He only had 42 seconds left on the clock. It wasn’t enough time. Less than a minute for half of his family to live. But which half? How does he choose? How could he? He was a teenager, a kid really. One side had more people, more members of his family. But he couldn’t let Damian, Alfred, or Steph die. But if he did let himself live with the others, the rogues had already declared their promise to kill them the moment Batman was dead. The inmates had a numbers advantage on them. They could easily overpower an elderly injured man and three kids who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves without Batman’s help. Tim felt everyone staring at him wanting to shout out their opinions and what he should do. He almost wished they could as it might have blocked out the sound of his beating heart.

“Jay… I can’t do this,” Tim whimpered, shaking where he stood.

Jason searched his mind for a sarcastic comment to shoot back at his brother to make him laugh, but he couldn’t come up with anything. “Tim… man, it’s gonna be alright,” Jason consoled.

“I… I can’t do it. I can’t. We’re all gonna die and it’s gonna be my fault but I can’t choose…”

“Don’t then,” Jason blurted out trying to give him some solace. “Throw it easy. I’ll either catch it or not. It won’t be your fault then, just mine.”

Tim shook his head, “no. We…. Jay it makes more sense for your side to live. Sacrificing yourself I get, but… the only way you have any chance to get out is Bruce and Lucius. We’re just kids over here, and they’re gonna kill us the second Bruce die-“ he stopped himself from finishing his sentence, having to take a deep breath to keep himself from completely breaking down. “But… I don’t want Damian to not grow up. I don’t want Steph to not see Cass again, I don’t want… I don’t want to-“ It was all he could say before sobbing.

“Tim,” Jason’s voice cracked. “There’s not enough time left…” Jason didn’t even realize he was talking, his lips moved without thinking. “E-either way one of us is dead. You don’t even have to choose anything! All of the balls are in your…are in your court, so no matter what… it’s me who has to decide…”

The gravity of it caught up to Jason in that moment. It really was up to him no matter what. Tim could throw whatever he wanted, but he had to either fight for his life or die for his brothers’. Tim was right. Unfortunately, there were more rational adults with more skills on his side. If there was any chance of getting out before the games ended it was with Lucius and Tiffany’s tech skills to override the locks, Selina’s stealth to steal a weapon, Kate’s martial arts skill, and Bruce’s planning. But that would mean…

Jason looked up and saw Steph smiling comfortingly and tears streaming down her face, Alfred standing dignified with Damian uncharacteristically vulnerable leaning up against his leg, refusing to look at the court. Tim was hugging the ball to his chest tightly, the only thing he could do at the moment, trying his best to keep from crying.

The clock was ticking down, now at ten seconds. Jason had to make up his mind quickly. He found Bruce’s eyes and quietly asked what to do. Bruce looked away and down at his hand in his lap clutching onto his wife’s. A small gesture that told Jason what he would do if the roles were reversed.

Jason turned to Tim and gave him a single nod. He had made his decision. Tim threw the ball up in the air and time seemed to freeze. All eyes were on the second Robin, watching his every moment. They saw his feet move to become more center with the ball, directly in its path.

There was the sound of the ball making impact. Jason closed his eyes and waited, the familiar feeling creeping up in him that death was about to come. Jason hated that the last image Tim would ever have of him would be of him shaking and terrified, but no matter what he did he could not manage to muster up a smile onto his face.

“It’s gonna be okay-“

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

No final words were granted. No goodbyes were given. One by one, the sound of bodies dropping to the floor echoed in the tiny gym. The former Robin’s eyes had shut tight with the first gun shot, not wanting to see his brother mutilated before him. He could feel his brother’s brain matter coating his hands and the blood soaking into his shirt but as long as his eyes were shut, everything was fine. As long as his eyes were closed his family was alive. As long as he didn’t look, almost all of his siblings were still standing.

He didn’t cry as he stood there. He couldn’t if he tried as his grip of reality started to pull away from him. This was his nightmare, his absolute nightmare. The former Robin couldn’t think of a worse scenario for him to be in. It was just up to him and his brother to choose the fates of his family. There was no way this was happening. Kidnapping almost his whole family to play children’s games to the death?! That’s completely insane. It may have been Gotham but-

Scarecrow.

It had to of been. He had to be under the influence of fear toxin. There’s no other way. It was the only thing that made any sense. It was all of his worst fears wrapped up into one. A high dose of fear toxin.

“This isn’t real,” he said out loud. “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” He repeated this over and over and over again, each time somehow shutting his eyes tighter and tighter, refusing to open them. He knew this couldn’t have been true, the timeline of events was too coherent to be a hallucination, but he could manifest it into being fake if he tried hard enough. He could make it true. He could make it so his brothers were alive. If he just repeated this, it would-

“It’s going to be alright,” a man’s voice said, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be alright.”

Jason snapped out of his trance to see the rubber ball still in his hands. There was the clear sign of skull and brain coating the outside of it, the last remainder he had of Tim. The transparent do-not-cross wall was already dividing the court, but Jason could not bring himself to look through it and instead stared down at the ball in his hand.

“I-I caught it…” Jason stated, holding it up to Bruce beside him. “I caught it.”

Bruce nodded, jaw tensed, swallowing a lump in his throat. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Jason looked right through Bruce. “I caught it…” he breathed out and lowered his arms. “I caught it…”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but instead wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him in tight. Jason did not hug him back. He didn’t seem to have noticed at all that he had moved. The ball in his hands was the only thing grounding him to reality as it was a fact that he caught the ball. He saved Bruce, Selena, Tiffany, Kate, and Lucius.

He caught the ball.

“I caught it,” Jason was still repeating over and over as Bruce gripped him tighter. “I caught it.”

“Thank God you did!” Ed Nigma scoffed, limping down the stands. “I was worried you were about to do something stupid.”

Jason didn’t hear him. His chin was resting on his adopted dad’s shoulder. The ball was pressing in under Bruce’s ribcage but similar to the last living Robin, he didn’t notice anything other than Jason’s grip on this world slipping away as he kept stating how he saved his life. Bruce was already numb from the moment he turned around and saw his oldest son had been shot in the head. His daughter, father, and other two sons shared the same fate.

Jason still hadn’t cried nor stopped repeating himself. It might have been better if he did either. Bruce didn’t know what to do or how best to comfort him. It was Bruce’s fault he was like this. Bruce purposefully tagged himself out, not so Tim would have a chance, but so he didn’t have to make the final decision.

“I… I caught the ball,” Jason finally differed slightly from his script. “I caught the ball.”

“It’s going to be okay, Jason,” Bruce comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bruce wished his voice wasn’t so monotone. It might have helped if he has some emotion, angry or sad, or anything. But Bruce pushed down all of his pain, all of his feelings. He didn’t allow himself to grieve, not yet. Not only was it unproductive, but he knew once he started crying he would never be able to stop. He had to focus on what he had, and all he had was four people outside this game presumably trying to break them out, a wife who he loved deeply, his one living cousin, one of his oldest friends and his loyal daughter, and one surviving son right in front of him who was unable to cope with the decision he made and would haunt him forever.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bruce repeated. “It’s going to be okay. You did nothing wrong.”

Bruce didn’t know how long they stood there repeating themselves over and over, each one not interrupting the other.

Eventually, a gentle hand was placed on Bruce’s back. “Sweetheart,” Selina consoled, “we should probably go before they kick us out.”

Bruce did not make a conscious effort to let go of Jason, but he found himself walking towards the gym door all the same, one arm wrapped around his son to guide him.

Jason was still clutching the rubber ball in his hand when the voice announcement came on overhead. “No taking game items outside of the playing field. I repeat. No taking game items outside the playing field.”

Selina unwrapped herself from Bruce’s side, stopping Bruce from taking a step out the door. “Jason,” Selina cautioned gently.

Jason looked through her and held up the rubber ball just like he did minutes earlier to Bruce. “I caught it.”

Selina smiled as warmly as she could. “I know. I know you did. We have to leave it behind now. Is that alright?”

Jason’s eyes went to the ball where a fragment of Tim’s skull was practically glued to it with now dried blood. “I…caught the ball…”

Selina reached out carefully and placed her hands as best as she could so she didn’t touch any gore on it. “I’m going to take this from you. Can I do that?”

Jason watched his own hands unwrap themselves from the ball and have it settle in Selina’s hands.

“Thank you, Jason,” Selina thanked before going back to the stands and gently placing it down on the bleachers so it didn’t make a sound.

“Y-yeah…” Jason mumbled, still holding his hands out as though nothing had been taken from him.

Bruce rubbed Jason’s arm for comfort and continued walking down the hallway once Selina was next to him again. The only sound down the hallway was Jason’s mutters of catching a ball getting quieter and quieter.

“B-B-Bruce?” Jason asked as they neared the corridor to the kindergarten classroom.

“Yes?” Bruce responded.

“I…I think I’m done,” Jason admitted. “Yeah, I don’t want to play any more games. I’m gonna… I just want to go home.”

Bruce stopped in the hallway and turned to be in front of him with Selina stopping a step behind Bruce. Bruce suddenly did not see a 19 year old Jason Todd standing in front of him, but rather the 12 year old Boy Wonder who just wanted to do good in the world. He didn’t know what else to do other than kneeling down to his knee and grabbing Jason’s arms. Bruce couldn’t think of what to say, but somehow the words came out of him. “You made a hard choice back there, Jay. No one would deny that. There was no right or wrong decision, only one that-.”

“They probably felt how I did…” Jason muttered.

Bruce felt his heart shatter as Jason’s eyes finally focused on him. “I…I made them watch the clock tick down to their deaths. They didn’t deserve that.” Bruce froze, finally understanding what Jason had been trying to tell him. He watched as Jason’s eyes shifted away from reality once more and stared off into the abyss. “I caught the ball…” Jason began repeating again.

The first tear fell out of Bruce’s eyes without him knowing. They were silently streaming down his face, knowing for a fact that this was his fault. He left the decision up to Jason. This was Bruce’s doing. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

[mingumis]

love song | bsk

my playlist is full of love songs that you filled it with

pairing: boo seungkwan x gn!reader genres/themes: sad, angst, mentions of break up a/n: how are we doing after the bss cb??!! here's something short i cranked out bc love song is making me so emo... wc: 634

There’s a subtlety to your grief after you say goodbye to Seungkwan. 

Sometimes, it feels like you’re okay, and that the absence of him in your life is something you’re growing used to, day by day. At other times, you find yourself standing in the middle of your living room, teeth and fists clenched, fighting away the deep pit of dread and hopelessness in your stomach. 

You stretch your lips taut in an effort to smile at your friends, insist that you’re completely fine, that the breakup had been a long time coming, that both of you had all but expected it and had mutually agreed to end things. 

When you trudge back home to your cold, empty apartment with a heaving heart and an exhausted drag to your steps, there are several text messages from your friends, checking up on you, asking again if you, truly, are doing okay. Your face grows slack, cheeks twinging, and only then do you realize that your face has been pulled into that fake smile all day and then all the way back home. 

How do you expect your friends to believe you when you can’t even believe yourself?

You breathe an airless sigh, fingers flying over your phone screen as you rapidly type out reassuring responses. I’m fine! Just been a rough week. Over and over and over, until the words run together and look unintelligible. 

You drop your phone with another heavy exhalation and fix your gaze onto anything but your friends' concerned texts. There’s a bowl of fruit molding over on the kitchen counter that you should really throw out. It’s the hallabong that Seungkwan had brought back from a quick trip to Jeju for business. A mere nine hours on the island he called home, and instead of spending every minute with family or friends, he had meticulously picked out the best tangerines he could find, packed them up in a styrofoam box, and brought them onto the plane as a carry-on. For you. Because that was the type of person Boo Seungkwan was. 

You had peeled the thin skin of one, and the juices had exploded onto your palms, punctured clumsily by your fingernails that didn’t know how to gauge the proper strength of artfully peeling a tangerine. 

Seungkwan had tutted and fussed over you, taking another hallabong in his own delicate fingers, deftly splitting it in half. This is how the Jejuans eat their oranges, he’d flourished with a giggle, as he popped a wedge into your mouth. 

The tangerine had burst beneath your teeth, but it tasted like nothing but bitter ashes. At that moment, you had realized that you couldn’t do this. Couldn’t continue acting as a shackle, holding Seungkwan back in his larger-than-life career, nor his dreams to become even more than what he was now. 

You were simply lacking in everything that he needed from a partner. 

Without thinking, your tongue had moved faster than your heart could seize up as you ended things, then and there. The look of anguish and doubt and fear in his eyes, you would never be able to forget. 

You did this to yourself, you force the reminder into your head, turning bitterly away from the bowl of fruit and vowing to throw it out tomorrow. 

It’s only in the shower, when you’re lightheaded from the steam, barely acknowledging the random playlist you’ve thrown on desperately to fill the silence, that you realize all of your emotions for what they are. Grief for the loss of Seungkwan’s presence in your life, for the loss of his love. 

Because when you actually start listening, the left side of your chest sinks, as if caved in. Song after song in your playlist is a romantic ballad that he added, devoting it to you. 

[i want nothing but seungkwan to be happy so maybe i'll write a part 2 or something...]

[demigodsanswer]

I’m going to thrice you, again, prompt idea: in Princess AU- the conversation on the beach in Greece if the *right* brother had been there.

I am addicted to alt-versions of my own fic universes. Guess we'll call this one "Found You First" They're younger, so they aren't as good at flirting yet.

~

She hadn't seen Percy in a little over a year. The last time they'd crossed paths, he was holding up Yale's Mock Trial National's first place trophy, while Annabeth fumed about Harvard's meager fifth place, even if she had come out with her own attorney award.

It was hard to hold onto that grudge now, though. When they were on opposite sides of a Mock rivalry (mock as in "trial," the rivalry was very real), he really was handsome, tan with dark hair and very pretty green eyes.

Percy bowed his head towards her, and then held out his hand. It was the first time he'd ever bowed to her. "Lovely to see you again, Princess," he said.

Annabeth took his hand, expecting him to shake it, but he simply kissed it. Annabeth's stomach did a little flip flop, and she was glad she'd agreed to this trip after all.

~

"Riley Winter was obviously the worst one!" Annabeth said. It took all of four minutes alone on the beach for them to start arguing about Mock Trial witnesses.

"Mickey Keenan was way more annoying than him! He was an incompetent cop who obviously entrapped someone," Percy said. "I was so happy when they killed him off for nationals."

"Too bad you lost to Miami that year," Annabeth said.

"Too bad you didn't have the chance to win," Percy said back. Annabeth kicked sand at him.

"Are you in law school?" Annabeth asked.

"Oh, absolutely not. Not cut out for the LSAT, let alone the Bar. I'm doing a masters at Yale," he said, as if that was somehow less impressive than law school.

"Oh? In what?" Annabeth asked.

"Classics. I'm thinking about applying for a Ph.D., but I'm not sure. I'm a bit burnt out at the moment," he said, slumping back in his beach chair for dramatic effect.

Annabeth nodded sympathetically. "Classics is cool, though."

"I'm excited to be in Greece and actually see some of the things I write about," Percy said.

"My dad and I are getting a private tour of the Parthenon this week, if you want to join us," Annabeth offered. "Maybe you could teach us something."

Percy was smiling, really smiling, and excited boyish grin. "Really? Would that be okay?"

Annabeth smiled back. "Sure," she said. She needed to get married, and people were starting to worry she had no real interest in men. Taking Percy, a man she was absolutely interested in, on a trip to the Parthenon might help her in a few different ways.

Percy looked like he was about to say something, but then paused. "Your shoulders are pink," he said. "Want me to get them?"

Annabeth nodded. A nice excuse for some contact.

As Percy rubbed the sunscreen onto her shoulders, chest, and back (both politely trying to ignore how incredibly intimate it was), she asked: "Are you single?" Annabeth couldn't remember seeing any women on his Instagram lately, but maybe he kept those things private.

"I am," Percy said. "I did get out of a relationship a few months ago, though. I'm mostly over it."

"Was it mutual?" She asked.

Percy shrugged. "Hard to say."

"So you got your heart broken?" She deduced.

Percy almost laughed. "A little bit."

"What was her name?"

"Frank," Percy said without hesitation, before looking up and meeting her eyes, assessing her for fear, confusion, or disgust.

Annabeth just nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about that. It sounds like he meant a lot to you."

Percy nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "Yeah," and then he squirted more sunscreen in the other hand, and started on her other shoulder. "I'm not here to use you as a beard, though. I am bisexual, if you ... believe in that sort of thing."

"Be a bit of a raging hypocrisy if I didn't," Annabeth said. Percy's eyes snapped to her face, and she just shrugged and nodded. "I had my own devastating gay break up our senior year. I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital," Annabeth said with a laugh.

"Can I guess who it was?" Percy said, finishing with the sunscreen and sitting back in the sand in front of her. Annabeth stretched a leg out, and Percy started reapply sunscreen to that as well.

"Sure," Annabeth said.

"Tristan McLean's daughter?" He said.

Annabeth laughed. "God, were we that conspicuous?"

"Probably not to straight people," Percy said, "I'm sure to them, you guys looked like very good friends."

~

Before long, it was clear that Annabeth simply could not be in the sun for long without roasting, so Percy suggested they go to the shaded bar up by the resort itself, but still close to the sand. Annabeth had accepted his offer graciously.

Percy covertly texted his cousin while Annabeth used the restroom.

Percy

from your pov, how soon is too soon to kiss the crown princess of a sovereign country

Thals

Well if it's you kissing me, any time would be too soon. if it's the swedish girl. idk go for it if she seems into it

Percy waited a full fifteen minutes after she came back to up the touchy flirting, and Annabeth leaned into it, touching his thigh under the bar and tossing her hair over her (lightly pink) shoulders. Two glasses of wine each later, and their faces were tantalizingly close together.

Annabeth kissed him first in the end, closing the distance between them with a sure and steady kiss that was sophisticated and contained, but did linger.

"So, I guess our rivalry ends here?" Percy suggested.

Annabeth smiled. "Guess so."

~

Thankfully, when her father found her, she was no longer kissing Percy. They'd gone on from their first kiss to their second to their third in record time, before deciding to go somewhere more private.

But it was on their walk to this more private place that they found her dad.

Percy sobered up and remembered his manners right away. Her father hadn't been there for his and hers initial introduction, but Percy carried out the expected protocol flawlessly. Annabeth could have swooned.

"Nice to meet you son. Ambritt, would you like to get dinner?" Her father asked her.

"Oh, sure," Annabeth said, "Percy and I were about to find something to eat ourselves," she said, hoping that didn't read an innuendo, even though it certainly was.

"Ah, well, Percy, you're welcome to join us," her dad offered.

Percy nodded. "I'd be honored, your majesty."

"Oh, please don't bother with all of that, unless you'd like me to start calling you Don Percy," her dad said.

Percy laughed. "Certainly not. But I should change before we go anywhere."

"Me too," Annabeth said.

"Alright, you two head up. I'll make arrangements with Hugo. Do you eat fish?" Her dad asked Percy.

"Sure do," Percy said, before looking at Annabeth, his glance telling her that was also innuendo.

They stepped into the elevator together.

"I forgot your real name was Ambritt," Percy said.

"Sure is. What's 'Percy' in Spanish?" Annabeth asked.

"Perseo, but that's actually one of my middle names. My first name is Pedro," he told her.

"Oh, you are not a Pedro," Annabeth said, taking his hand as the door opened to her floor.

"I agree," he said as she unlocked her hotel room door. "Should I leave you to get ready?"

"In five," she reached between his legs, and her eyes went a bit wide as she realized the size of it, even soft, "maybe ten minutes."

[hughesxmaes]

Watching the other cry in his arms, weeping for a man who was supposed to be dead, yet was alive and holding the Flame Alchemist, his best friend, the one he fell deeply for, it hurt to watch. All Maes could do was continue to console him, continue to rub his back as he held him close.

He knows that this was something hard to believe, that he was here and alive and not dead. His life was spared at a cost, Roy’s cost. He was being used to make sure Roy didn’t do anything about it.

They didn’t know that Roy would still be trying to stop them. They thought this would be enough considering what lengths Roy had went through to avenge his best friend.

Maes kept his arms around him letting him cry it out for however long he needed. Ten minutes.. or was it twenty? He wasn’t counting, but he was still in the same spot, rubbing his back, assuring him in soft murmurs that he was there and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Finally when the other had calmed enough to finally speak to him, Maes listened and hung to every word learning that his feelings were definitely returned, but kept in the dark from it.

He could understand why Roy held back, even back then Maes didn’t realize his own feelings either and it would have only caused issues, but knowing how he feels now that they are both older and after everything that’s happened.

He could understand that Roy was scared to lose him, having thought he had died the first time around, but only got lucky that the homunculi missed and hit his side instead of his heart this time.

Hearing that Gracia and Elicia were both crying at the funeral that wasn’t supposed to happen broke his heart and he knew that they would always be sad and miss him, and of course he’d miss them too, he knew it was just too dangerous to come forward to them about still being here. Not to mention it would only just confuse them and upset them that this was hidden.

He leans his head against Roy’s and just holds him. He knows that Roy is still dealing with the grief of him dying so all he can do is be there for him and assure him. He sees the anger that he felt from when he lost him he sees all the grief that the man has to deal with in his dark eyes that stare back into his hazel ones.

“I know you’re afraid, Roy. I get it, but I’ll do whatever I can to stay alive. I know you’ll protect me, I’m right here. I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere.” He is going to do everything he can to stay alive for Roy’s sake. He has a chance to, so he won’t even try to fight against them unless he has to.

“There’s a lot that we don’t know, but I’m sure we will find out soon enough.” He squeezes him softly. “I want to stay by your side, always. I want to be with you and nobody else. I’ll make a promise to you to stay alive. I refuse to die after everything.” He couldn’t dare die after seeing what this man has said and done in front of him just now. “I love you so much, Roy.” He watches as the other hides his face once more. “I’m yours.”

He couldn’t get air into his lungs. He fell into the sea, and, as if he was always meant to drown, he couldn’t hope to get out. 

Why, though? He thought he was safe this time. He was careful. The sun did not melt his wings like he previously thought. Nay, the wax remained intact.

Simple: he looked down, and he didn’t look back up. He wasn’t sure he could.

The fabric of Maes’ shirt was almost enough to silence Roy’s cries. Even though he wanted to, he did not completely smother his face into Maes’ shoulder. Idly, he wondered if perhaps that would stop him from nearly hyperventilating in front of the man he loved. If he could just breathe, and manage to get a few, rational words out, then everything would make sense. This? Bawling like an infant who only wanted to be held in a warm embrace? Ridiculous. Obscene. Deplorable. 

This was not the man Maes said he loved. Fire incarnate, he was supposed to be a welcoming hearth for his man to sit next to on a cold day, a torch to light his way, or a wildfire that took down forests if left untamed. What Maes held in his arms were mere embers, soaked from the sea as he could not stop himself from weeping. Pathetic. 

Five minutes passed, and he hardly slowed his pace. The tears couldn’t stop. He couldn’t move from his spot. His hands continued gripping Maes with all the strength he could muster while his body quaked. 

Another five minutes passed. His breathing began to calm as his body stilled. Calloused hands relaxed their grip, but did not let go. 

Several minutes, or close to an eternity, later, a quiet voice broke the silence.

“I loved you since we were at the academy,” Roy murmured as he spoke more to the floor, his head bowed, “I knew it then. When you said you joined the military to protect the woman you loved, I wanted to tell you that you already did. She was me.” Roy offered the floor a weak smile for a brief few seconds before his frown returned. “But, I couldn’t risk it. Not with our country as it is, and not with the anti-frat laws. I wasn’t about to damage your career like that. So, you got married and had a daughter while I kept up my reputation, and I worked on attaining the Presidency.”

The hands gripping Maes trembled. With a sharp inhale of air, his breathing stuttered. He just stopped crying. Starting again would be absurd. Everything was fine. Maes was alive and right in front of him. Couldn't he see that? Why did he keep quaking like this?

“But… then you died, Maes. When I was in East City.” Why did his voice break? He made this report before. He had to before he transferred. Moreover, Maes knew what happened. It happened to him. “I don't remember what happened after the phone call. The Lieutenant took me home, and I woke up there the next morning. I don't remember if I even changed that morning before I left for Central.” Roy forced himself to pause and breathe, his hands moving to his sides. 

“I went to your funeral. I listened to Gracia and Elicia cry–she asked why they were burying you, and none of us could console her. I saw the phone booth. I listened as Major Armstrong said he couldn't tell me who killed you.” As he spoke, his hands clenched into fists. “And, after all of that, I promised I would find your killer and bring them to Hell myself. What I did to Lust is nothing compared to the funeral pyre I plan to make for the one who took you from me.”

At last, obsidian dared to look into hazel. Alive and on fire, the blaze in Roy moved with his quick breaths. The water on his face, an element said to make the Flame useless, glistened in the soft lighting of his living room. With one deep inhale, and then another, the fire began to calm. Several deep breaths later, a solemn voice, barely above a whisper, left the embers standing in front of Maes.

“I told a ghost I loved him. Without him, I was lost. How would I go anywhere without mi Estrella Polar? I said all this to an empty grave, not once thinking it was empty. That you were alive, Maes.” He tried to smile, but such an attempt was in vain. His lips quivered with the rest of him—as if he hadn’t fully dried from being underwater. 

“I never stopped loving you. Not once, even when I told myself I should. And now… you're saying everything I dreamed of hearing. You want to be mine when I’ve wanted nothing more since we were cadets. But…” Again, his clenched hands trembled as his gaze moved to the floor. “How do I know you won’t be taken from me again? I couldn’t protect you before. If I go through with these plans–to overthrow the Homunculi and Senior Staff—what will stop them from taking you? I can’t–I can’t lose you again.”He bowed his head as tears cascaded down his cheeks, the sea claiming him once more. Perhaps water truly did make him useless.