#but yeah i've gotten over most if not all of what was hurting me back then

[minimoll7]

I really want to draw and post art again but yet its been so incredibly hard to really to do anything? I'm at a point where I really just don't know why. I tend to sketch stuff and maybe sometimes I'll start working on the line art but then I just stop and never go back

I don't know what my problem is or what is really stopping me. I get really happy when I sketch and things are coming out really well!! But then that's kind of it? Its not like I feel super depressed about it or anything, so what's holding me back? A big ol mystery

[mcrdvcks]

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi love!! I would love an Eddie request of him with inexperienced reader but it's not smut it's like the convo leading up to it like May be they start making out and it's getting steamy and she tells him she's a virgin and she's terrified bc what if she's bad at sex and then it's not good for him? What if he sees her naked and thinks she's not pretty?? And it's just Eddie comforting her and reassuring her

Oh, I would most definitely need Eddie to reassure me of these things, too. I hope you like what I've come up with 💕

Words: 1.3k

The old springs in Eddie’s mattress dig into your back, an occasional squeak emanating from them whenever your boyfriend shifts his weight on top of you. His tongue dances with yours, breath colliding and teeth grazing. Eddie encompasses all your senses, surrounding you wholly and leaving no room to think about anything else but him–if your brain can even manage to think at all with strong, calloused hands running over your body. 

His warm fingers trail up the outside of your leg, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The moment Eddie’s hand slips up your shorts on the front of your thigh though, your body goes from pure ecstasy to adrenaline-pumping nerves in an instant.

An involuntary jump of your body against his alerts Eddie that something’s wrong and he immediately pulls away to gaze down at you in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Though it’s clearly not the truth, you nod your head. Slowly, you scoot yourself out from beneath his body and sit up against the cheap mahogany headboard that’s caused a multitude of scratches against the dully painted trailer wall. 

“C-Can we talk for a second though?”

There’s worry in Eddie’s eyes. He’s terrified that he’s done something wrong or has hurt you in some way. Taking care to give you some space, your boyfriend situates himself to sit next to you on his bed, back also resting against the chipped and scuffed headboard.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “What’s going on?”

Tentatively, Eddie offers you his hand, resting it between the two of you. He’s leaving the decision up to you if you want to touch him right now or not. There’s no hesitation though, you eagerly lace your fingers with his. 

You give him a nervous smile, a million thoughts running through your head at once. It’ll be a miracle if you can speak coherently with the rate at which your mind is moving. Deciding to just bite the bullet and get it all out there, you take a deep breath.

“Um, I’m—I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

Whatever reaction you were planning on Eddie to have, he doesn’t give it to you. He seems completely unfazed by your admission. All you get is a nod of his head and a gentle squeeze of your hand. 

“Okay,” he says casually, as if your entire body isn’t running on nervous energy at the moment. “We can go as slow as you want, yeah?”

You know your body should feel relief, but the worry in your head tells you that you’ve only gotten through part of what you need to tell him. Might as well push through to the end.

“I’m…scared,” you admit. Shame floods your body, chilling your veins.

“Of me?” Eddie’s eyes widen and the alarm in them is clear.

“No!” You quickly assure him. “No, no, never of you.”

He heaves a sigh of relief, and you cup his hand in both of yours. Out of all the things that make you anxious about having sex with Eddie, Eddie is not one of them. But that means you have to tell him that you’re the problem. If your anxiety has one mortal nemesis in the world it is vulnerability. 

“I’m scared that I’ll be bad at it,” you admit. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What if you don’t like it? What if I mess up?” What if you don’t like how I look beneath my clothes?

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. The crease in his forehead shows his displeasure with the pressure you’re putting on yourself. “First of all, I don’t think you can really mess up sex, sweetheart. As long as you’re here and your clothes are off, I’d say we’re good to go.” He chuckles, but when you don’t join in, he sighs. “Are you honestly worried that I won’t like it?”

Unable to look him in the eye, you nod. His forehead furrows further as Eddie frowns. Usually, you’d rub your thumb over those wrinkles to smooth them out and calm him down. But usually, you’re not the cause of them. 

Gentle fingers grip your chin and tilt your face so you can look at him.

“Princess, it’s you. I love doing everything with you, you really think I won’t like having sex with you?”

When he puts it like that, you feel silly. Heat blooms in your face as embarrassment is scooped on top of the nerves. There are legitimate concerns, though. You’re sure of it. There has to be.

“W-What if you don’t like what my body looks like?” You ask it so quietly in the hope that he misses it.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t by the way his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He reminds you of one of those stress dolls that you squeeze and the small plastic eyes bulge out.

“Not like your body?” Eddie sounds almost incredulous. He pauses for a moment, eyes gazing into yours as he thinks of a reply. It feels like the understatement of the century to say he was unprepared for you to be worried about this; about something that he whole-heartedly knew to be untrue. A smile quirks Eddie’s mouth as his mind goes back to a day before you’d started dating. He licks over his lips before continuing. “Sweetheart, remember the pool party Jeff threw for his birthday last summer? You wore that low-cut, blue one-piece that showed off most of your back?”

Do you remember? You had agonized over what you should wear to that party and what Eddie would think when he saw you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, voice quivering. 

“Babe,” he says with a shake of his head. “I still get off thinking about that. About how you looked. There was a reason I had to stay in the pool past the point of me freezing half to death in the water.”

Shock colors your face, and despite the gravity of the conversation, it makes Eddie smile wider.

“You…really?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You’re gorgeous. It bothers me that you don’t see that.”

If there’s one thing you can say about your boyfriend, it’s that he’s very candid about his view on things–just ask anyone who’s had the pleasure of hearing him make a grand speech from atop a lunch table. Which is most of the high school-aged population in Hawkins.

Half of your brain is trying to convince you that now is the time he chooses to lie, that he’s just saying this to make you feel better or to shut you up. Meanwhile, the other half is telling the anxiety to put a sock in it and listen to Eddie.

“What’re you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly. A reminder of how well he knows you.

“Too much,” you say with a soft laugh. 

Eddie lets out a long breath and gently pulls you into his lap. He absentmindedly rests his hands on your thighs and his thumbs rub calming circles on your skin.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks. Needing to show you physically how much he wants to help you, he snakes his arms around your body to hold you snugly against him. Your heart all but melts as he looks up at you with those large, puppy dog eyes.

With a small smile, you lean down and rest your forehead against your boyfriend’s. Sometimes he’s too cute for his own good. 

“You already have,” you say softly.

“What? How?” Eddie’s frowning again, but this time it's in confusion.

“Just by being you,” you tell him with a shrug.

“Well, I am pretty great,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. Your heart feels lighter once the stress lines fade from his beautiful face. 

You chuckle at his ego and sit back up straight.

“There is one more thing you could do for me, though.”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

There’s a hungry gleam in your eyes as you let your gaze trail up and down his lithe body. 

“Take off your shirt.”

[skz-bee123]

Telling Skz your ex texted you

Stray Kids reaction

A/N: So here's another reaction after a very long time. I hope it tuns out alright, I haven't gone through and edited it so if there's any mistakes, no there isn't. Jisung's one is again quite short, I don't know why this keeps happening to me but I find him very hard to write, hopefully a one-shot of him will make up for that (I've got a few ideas, I just need to write it out first). For Seungmin's part, the ending is a bit iffy but other then that, enjoy!

Word count: 5.2K

Bang Chan

"Hey babe?" You called out to your boyfriend who was in the kitchen getting himself a drink.

"Yeah?"

"My ex texted me, what should I text back?"

It goes silent for a couple moments before you call out to him again, "Channie?"

Loud footsteps make their way into the lounge and you see Chan, with a look of annoyance on his face as he makes his way over to you.

"What the fuck does he want?" Chan says as he stands in front of you.

"Just wanted to know if we could meet up." You respond.

Chan goes quiet and you wait for him to speak, watching him as you see his brain ticking over.

"He...wants to meet up?" Chan finally speaks.

You nod your head in confirmation.

"Hasn't that dickhead already put your through enough already? Why is he wanting to talk to you again?" Chan sits down next to you and grabs your hand. "I'm not going to be one of those boyfriends that tells you you can't go, because ultimately it's your choice. But...sweetheart...he put you through hell, he doesn't deserve to see you ever again."

Chan sighs before speaking again, "like I said, it's your choice. Either way I support you, I just personally think that you should ignore him, block him, just get rid of him."

You stay silent for a while before your phone dings again. You look down at it before pulling up the contact of your ex. You block him.

"I did it." You finally speak up.

"What did you do?" Chan asks, grabbing your hand.

You give Chan's hand a squeeze, "I blocked him, I don't know why I hadn't in the first place."

"It's alright baby, I get why you couldn't before."

"Yeah...but I've got you now so, I don't need him anymore."

"That's right, you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere."

Lee Minho

You had gotten a text from your ex.

You chewed on your bottom lip, making it raw and hurt as you agonised over what to do.

You knew you should just delete the messages that kept coming in but just couldn't work up the courage to do it.

You and your ex had not ended on good terms, he was borderline abusive and it took you awhile to work up the strength to leave him. When you finally did, you weren't the same person anymore.

You often got scared by loud shouting and raised hands always made you cower. Minho, you boyfriend of 7 months, knew all about this. He knew about the type of person your ex was and helped you break out of your shell again. He helped you become the person you once were before your ex took that away from you.

Despite all of this, Minho has never been a super protective boyfriend. He never really made a move to go out of his way to protect you, he's never actually really had the need to. Until now.

You were starting to feel anxiety making its way through your body, it clung to you in the most uncomfortable ways possible, squeezing the little bit of air out of your body.

You wanted to tell Minho, why? You weren't even sure yourself. To vent? For advice? To get him to deal with your ex? You don't know. All you know is that your shaking hands and fast-racing heart needed to be with him.

You make your way into your room where Minho was laying on your bed, watching his phone.

Minho looks up at your over the top of his phone before he goes back to watching. A few moments go by and you don't move from your spot in the doorway and Minho pauses his phone and places it down beside him, sitting up and looking over at you.

"Y/n-" Minho goes to say but is cut off from your phone ringing.

You look down and see your ex trying to call you. A sniffle escapes from you as tears well up in your eyes.

"I-" You try to get the words out but you're overcome with tears.

Minho stands up from the bed and makes his way over to you, he grabs your hands and pulls you over to the bed, sitting you both down. Minho gently wipes away your tears and looks at you with a concerned look on his face. "What happened?" He asks.

"My ex texted me." You whisper out, looking down at your hands.

A moment of silence passes before Minho speaks, "What did he say."

"That he wants to talk. He wants to meet up with me and apologise for how things were. he wants to see if we can work things out and get back together."

It goes quite between you two and you look up. Minho's face is blank as h stares off to the side, whatever he's thinking or feeling right now, you can't tell.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you with this." You mumble out.

Minho's face whips around to face you and he opens his mouth. Before he gets the chance to say something, he is once again cut off by your phone ringing.

You feel even more tears well up in your eyes as you see it's your ex trying to call you again. Before you even get the chance to decline the call, your phone is swiped out of your hands.

You watch as Minho answers the call and places it up towards his ear.

"This isn't Y/n." Minho says. There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "Her fucking boyfriend dickhead."

You watch as a look of pure anger forms on Minho's face, "now you listen here you fucking piece of shit. You contact my girl one more time and I promise you that I'll find you and make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?"

Minho seems to be satisfied with himself as he ends the call, blocking the number of your ex. He throws your phone over to the side of the bed and runs a hand through his hair before looking at you.

"You're not a bother Y/n."

Hearing this confuses you, "huh?"

"Before that son of a bitch called, you said you didn't want to bother me with this. Y/n, you're not a bother to me."

"I just...I just didn't know what to do. You just never really seem to care about this stuff so I just assumed..." you trail off.

"I don't care?" Minho looks at you with a hurt look on his face, "you really think I don't care about you?"

"NO!" You quickly scramble to explain yourself. "I know you care about me but you just never really seem to care about you know...other guys...and like what sets me off and that. I'm sorry, I don's really know what I'm saying."

"Baby..." Minho starts, bringing his hand up to your face. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way because it's far from true."

"Huh?"

"Before you met the boys, I had a long talk with them. Of course I didn't tell them everything but a few basics. You know how they can get with new people they meet, they're loud and touchy. I didn't want them to overwhelm you so I told them to just watch themselves. Even now, sometimes I know that they can get a bit much so I step in. I step in and make up reasons to excuse us because I know you need to have some space but you're too scared to say anything."

"I'm always watching you baby. Always." Minho continues. "It kills me to know what you went through and i know that although you're doing so much better, somethings things set you back. And that's okay. But I know that these setbacks really affect you, so I watch you. I watch so that if you need me to step in, I will. I always will, baby."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't know." You say.

"It's alright baby. You mean to much to me and it hurts me to know you're upset."

You push Minho down onto his back and lay on top of him, putting your head underneath his head, snuggling into his chest. You feel his arms come up to wrap around you protectively as Minho places a kiss on the top of your head.

"I love you Min." You whisper out as your eyes fall close, exhausted from today's events.

"I love you too baby, so much more than you'll ever know."

Seo Changbin

It first happened when you were getting ready to go out for breakfast with your boyfriend, Changbin. You had just finished putting your coat on and was waiting for Changbin to come out of the bathroom so that you both could leave when you got the text.

At first you didn't quite know who it was from, simply thinking it was from a wrong number, so you just brushed it off, not giving it a second thought.

The second time it happened, you and Changbin were walking back from breakfast. It was this time that it clicked to you who exactly was texting you. Blocking the number, you thought that that would be it. Of course though, you were wrong.

All throughout the day you had been receiving text messages from you ex, some pleading for you to take him back, others threatening you for leaving. It left you with an uncomfortable feeling inside of you and you were not quite yourself.

You thought you had been quite good at keeping it to yourself, but your boyfriend, who had noticed right away that something was up, thought that you would come to him when or if you needed too.

But after going to entire day with you looking over your shoulder, Changbin was currently very worried. Worried enough that he decided that if you weren't going to say anything to him, he was going to have to make the first move.

You both were currently sitting down on a park bench, just watching the scenery, it was just reaching sunset.

"Baby?" Changbin calls out to you.

"Yeah?" You turn towards Changbin with a smile on your face.

"Something's been bothering you all day and I've been waiting for you to come to me about it but you haven't. I just don't like seeing you so uncomfortable."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You've been constantly checking your phone and looking over your shoulder, I'm worried baby."

You start to chew your bottom lip and Changbin notices this, he reaches a hand up and gently pulls your lip out from your teeth with his thumb. "None of that love, you'll just hurt yourself. Tell me what's wrong?"

You open your mouth to say something but suddenly your eyes widen as you look over Changbin's shoulder and you're squeezing his hand. Changbin looks over his shoulder and watches a man walk towards you both.

Not quite recognising him but at the same time feeling that this man is somehow familiar to him, Changbin still protectively moves in front of you and watches as the man stops in front of the both of your. He completely disregards Changbin and speak to you.

"Babe, I've been texting you all day. How come you haven't been texting me back huh?" The man speaks.

Changbin turns towards you and all he sees is fear written all over your face and that's enough for him to feel an immense amount of anger well up inside of him.

The man steps forward and reaches out to grab your hand but before he gets the chance Changbin grabs his wrist.

"I don't know who you think you are. But she is not your 'babe'. Changbin speaks with venom in his words and pushes the man's hand away.

The man turns towards Changbin with annoyance, lacing his voice as he speaks. "And who are you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm Y/n's boyfriend. And you are?"

"Whatever, Y/n babe. Comeback to me, yeah? We can talk about it." The man, who Changbin now recognises as your ex, takes a step towards you and at this Changbin stands up, shoving the man away.

"You take one step closer to her and I swear to God you're going to regret it. Leave and don't contact her again, do you understand?" Despite being shorter than your ex, Changbin was bigger.

"I said. Do. You. Understand?" Changbin says putting emphasis on each individual word.

Your ex nods his head before turning away and walking off. It isn't until your ex is completely out of sight that Changbin sits back down and turns towards you. Noticing the silent tears rolling down your face, Changbin pulls you into a hug.

"We don't need to talk about it now. But I think we need to have a talk later, yeah?" Changbin mumbles into your hair.

You pull away from Changbin and start to apologise. "I'm-" but before you could even finish your sentence you're cut off by Changbin.

No, none of that. Let's just go back home, make some hot chocolate and cuddle while we watch movies, okay?"

You nod your head at him and he stands up, gently pulling you up with him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Hwang Hyunjin

"Jinnie?"

You wait for an answer only to receive none. You sigh and make your way over to the bed where your boyfriend was wrapped up in the blankets.

"Jin?"

You see Hyunjin's eyes look at you before he turns around so his back is facing you. You sit down on the bed next to him and tug at the blankets. You feel a smile form on your face as you feel Hyunjin tug the blankets back from you.

"Baby."

"Oh am I still your baby huh? I thought you had replaced me." As Hyunjin says this he turns to look at you. Noticing the big smilie on your face he just pouts. "And now you're laughing at me."

You flop onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around Hyunjin. "I'm not laughing."

"On the inside you definitely are."

"Okay maybe that's true but it's only because you're so cute."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

"Baby, you know that I love you right

and that me texting my ex, who I am completely over by the way, would never change that? Beside you, my love, are a lot more handsome.” 

Hyunjin sighs and a smile finally makes its way onto his face. “I know. But it definitely doesn’t pain me to hear it again from you.” 

You roll your eyes at him painfully. “Well if that’s what it takes to stop you from your dramatics, that I’ll tell you over and over again.” 

“Dramatics?” Hyunjin looks at you offended. “I am NOT dramatic.” 

“Jinnie, you are the definition of dramatic.” 

“You know what? For that, I’m not speaking to you again.” Hyunjin gently pushes you off him and rolls over so he’s facing away from you as your laughter sounds around the room.

Han Jisung

“You’ve been staring at your phone for a while, is everything alright?” 

You turn to look up at Jisung who had asked you that question, you smile at him softly before replying, “Yeah, Minjun texted me.” 

“Minjun, your ex?”

You nod your head before looking back down at your phone, replying to a text Minjun sent you. 

Some time passes and you’ve noticed that Jisung has been really quiet, you look up at him to see him staring off, a spaced out look on his face. 

“Ji?” You gently call out for Jisung. 

Jisung snaps out of the daze he was in and looks at you, “Yeah?” 

You move closer to where Jisung is sitting and grab his hand, rubbing your thumb over his. “You were staring into nothing, just wanting to make sure you were okay.” 

“You…your ex.” Jisung mumbles.

“What about him?” 

“How come you’re talking to him?” 

“Oh, you know how he ended up dating one of my friends after we broke up?” 

Jisung nods his head. 

“Well he wants to propose to her, just asking me for some advice on how to go about it.” 

“Oh.” You see Jisung visibly relax and you place your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. 

“You don’t have to worry Ji, I would never leave you.” 

“I know, I guess I just got into my head a bit is all.” 

With the hand that’s holding Jisung’s, you bring it up to your lips, and place a kiss on his hand. “I know my love, that’s why I’m always here to bring you out of it when you get too far.”

You feel a kiss being placed on the top of your head as Jisung mumbles, ‘I love you’ into your hair. 

Lee Felix

You and your ex ended your relationship on good terms. At the time you both just realised that you weren’t right for each other and agreed that maybe being a couple just wasn’t good for you both.

Your ex ended up getting a promotion at work and had to go overseas for some time. You were extremely happy for him but ended up losing contact.

That’s why when your ex texted you out of the blue, you were surprised yes, but also happy. 

“What’s got you all happy, my love?” 

You looked over at Felix who walked into the living room where you were sitting on the couch. 

“Do you remember Minjun?”

This causes Felix to stop in his tracks. “Like..your ex Minjun?” 

You nod your head, “Mhm.”

“Yeah I do. What about him?” 

“He’s back in Seoul and asked if we could meet up.” 

“Oh.” 

You look up from your phone then and over to Felix.

“Lix.” You call out softly. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Felix smiles at you, although you could tell it was forced. “Are you gonna…meet up with him?” 

“Probably, it would be nice to see how he’s doing.”

“Oh..that’s-that’s good then.” 

A bit confused, you slowly nod your head. “Uh yeah, it is. Are you sure everything is alright?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine, really.” 

You stare at Felix for a moment before continuing on. “Well, Minjun is officially back to live in Seoul now. He’s worked his way up and is now extending his branch more.” 

“You certainly know a lot about Minjun.” 

“We’ve just been texting, trying to find time to catch up.” 

Felix goes really quiet then. You could tell something was bothering him but he just wouldn’t admit it. Getting a bit worried you sit closer to Felix and grab his hands. 

“Lix..what’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing, because it obviously is something.”

Felix doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “You and Minjun.” 

“What about us?” You asked, slightly confused.

“You both were very close.”

“We were.”

“And he’s a very handsome guy who is back and wants to meet up with you.” 

It suddenly clicks in your head what was up with Felix. Reaching over, you gently grab Felix’s face in your hands and turn his face to look at yours. “Lixie.” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much.” 

Felix eyes widen as you say those words, neither of you had spoken them outloud before, so this moment meant a lot. “You love me?” 

“I do.” You nod your head. “Very much, and some silly old ex isn’t going to change that okay?” 

“Even if he’s really handsome.” 

“In my eyes, no one is more handsome than you. And I will fight anyone who says otherwise.” 

Felix lets out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” 

You smile at Felix before leaning in and placing your head on his chest, closing your eyes. You feel Felix run his fingers through your hair as you feel him relax underneath you. 

“Don’t overthink it okay? I love you a lot and that won’t ever change.” You say, your words muffled from your face being stuffed in Felix’s chest. 

“I know my love and I love you a lot too.” Felix says before closing his eyes and falling asleep with you held tightly to his chest. 

Kim Seungmin

You and Seugmin were just chilling on your couch. He for once had a few days off and chose to spend it with you. It was silent between both you had, had been for the past couple of hours until you broke the silence.

You had been debating with yourself whether or not you should speak to Seungmin about this, but seeing as he was your boyfriend, you decided that you should. It would honestly make you feel better if you did. 

“Hey Minnie?” You finally speak up.

Seungmin just hums not looking up from his phone but letting you know that you had his attention. 

“My um…my ex texted me.” 

“Nice try Y/n.” 

You look at Seungmin confused. “Huh?” 

Seungmin, still not looking at you, answers “I’ve seen this over tik tok. I know you’ve been getting me good with your pranks but this time it’s not gonna work babe.” 

You go quiet for a bit, silently cursing yourself for all the pranks you’ve pulled on your boyfriend. But this time, it wasn’t a prank, your ex had actually texted you and it had left you feeling uncomfortable. 

Not quite knowing what to say you just turn into yourself, staring off into space. 

“Y/n?” 

You look over to Seungmin to see him watching you. “Hmm?” 

“Something’s wrong.” Seungmin doesn’t ask, he states.

You don’t say anything and this causes Seungmin to move closer towards you, grabbing your hand. 

“You weren’t pranking me were you?” Seungmin asks. “Your ex actually did text you.” 

You just nod your head and show him the text messages from your phone. You watch as a wave of anger washes over his face before turning towards you, locking your phone and throwing it gently towards the side. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“For always pranking you, it’s not..I mean I just…I don’t know. I guess I thought they were funny but…” You say turning your face away from Seungmin but Seungmin’s fingers gently turn your face to look back at him. 

“They are funny. I might not show it, but the joy it gives you when you successfully prank me, makes me happy. And besides, all your pranks are completely harmless.”

“I guess so.” 

You watch as Seungmin sighs before he leans forward and places a small kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds. “Why don’t you let me deal with this douchebag of an ex and then we can talk about all the pranks I know you have planned for the members, I’m more than willing to be an accomplice.”

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah baby, the two of us together? The boys are not gonna know what’s hit them, and let’s just say, it’s gonna be amazing.” 

Yang Jeongin

Your ex texting you had been completely out of the blue. Your relationship had ended because of the fact that he was moving, needing to move countries because of work and you couldn’t because your own responsibilities kept you where you were. 

So your relationship ended on mutual terms. Over time, the two of you did end up losing contact with each other, simply because of time differences and the fact that you had found someone new. 

You had been at the boys practice, having finished work for the day, you decided to drop by and watch them. And although you and Jeongin weren’t heavy on the pda, it was obvious that Jeongin needed you there. Not saying it out loud but sending you a smile and a squeeze to your hand was all it took for you to stay longer than orginially planned. 

It was while the boys were dancing that you recieved the text from your ex. 

The conversation with your ex went as so:

Ex: Hey Y/n, haven't spoken for a long while now. I’m currently back in Seoul and was wondering if you wanted to meet up?”

You: Oh Minjun! How have you been? It’s been what, 3 years since you’ve last been back to Seoul?” 

Ex: Yea, it’s been awhile. But the company has been quite successful and they’ve made a branch here in Seoul, I was made to move with it, and oversee it all.

You: Wow, that’s amazing, I’m proud of you.

Ex: Thanks! So about that catch up? What do you say?

You: Yeah of course! Just let me know what you're free and we can sort something out.

You and your ex organise a time and date to meet, you're so engrossed in the conversation with your ex that you don’t even realise that the boys are on a break and that they’re currently trying to get your attention.

“Y/n!”

Your name being yelled causes you to look up and you notice all the boys, obviously taking a break have sat all around you and are looking at you. 

“Yeah?” You smile at them all before looking over at Jeongin who was calling your name.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past couple of minutes.” Jeongin says. 

“Oh sorry Innie, Minjun texted me and I’ve just been making plans with him.” You respond, grabbing Jeongin’s hand and bringing it onto your lap, showing him the messages between you and your ex. 

“How’s it going so far?” You turn to the boys as Jeongin reads through the messages. 

“It’s going, that’s all I can really say at the moment.” Chan speaks for the rest of the boys who all nod their heads. 

“Well I know you all will get there, I mean, you always do.” 

Jeongin hands you your phone back, not saying anything as you continue to talk with all the boys.

“Ok, I know we all noticed it but I’m gonna be the one to say it.” Jisung says, interrupting the conversation you were having with Felix. 

You turn to Jisung with a raised eyebrow, “noticed what?” 

“Jeongin.” Jisung points towards him. 

“What about him?” You asked confused.

“I’m not the only one right?” Jisung ignores your question and asks his own. 

The other members all nod their heads. You turn to look at Jeongin but don’t notice anything wrong with him. 

“What’s wrong with Jeongin?” You ask again. 

“Ever since you mentioned at Minjeon? Minjin? guy, and then letting Jeongin read the messages the obviously happened between you both, Jeongin’s had his jaw clenched and a far off look on his face.” Seungmin finally answers you. 

“Oh Minjun? He’s my ex, he just texted cause he wants to meet up.” You smile, completely oblivious. 

“Your ex? You ended on good terms then?” Chan asks. 

You nod your head. “Yeah, he had to move countries because of work but I couldn’t leave home because of school and work. So we both decided to break up. He’s currently back in Seoul, for the first time in 3 years, just texted me and asked if we could catch up.” 

“What else did you guys text about?” 

“Oh he just mentioned about going to the cafe where we had our first date, it ended up becoming one we went to all the time.” You smile at the memories. 

“He also called you pretty and that he couldn’t wait to see you in person. Said he missed you a lot.” Jeongin speaks for the first time. 

You turn towards him with a confused look. “He didn’t call me pretty but he did say that he missed me and wanted to catch up.” 

You look at all the other boys and notice them glancing at each other. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?” You ask nervously.

“No love, it’s just that, he was your first boyfriend right?” Chan smiles at you. 

You nod your head, “yeah, he was my first and then i’ve been with Jeongin ever since.” 

“Alright well, from what I’m getting here, your ex doesn’t have a new partner?” 

“Not that I know of. But we haven't spoken in a while, so maybe.” 

“Okay, so let’s say he doesn’t, and from the look on Jeongin’s face after he read the messages. Your ex was trying to flirt with you.” 

“What?!” You exclaim in shock. You quickly grab your phone and read through the messages, realising that it did indeed look like your ex was flirting with you. 

“Jeongin I…I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. I wasn’t flirting with him, I promise.” You quickly rush to explain. 

Jeongin doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw. With a nudge from Chan, Jeongin speaks. 

“No baby, it’s alright, I know you weren’t flirting with him. I was just jealous I guess.” Jeongin reaches over and brushes some hair away from your face, letting his hand rest on your face. 

You reach a hand up and grab Jeongin’s one that was resting on your face. You smile at him before speaking. “I can cancel my hang out with him if you want?”

“No baby, you don’t have to do that on my terms. I know you were looking forward to catching up with him.”

“Yeah, but you’re obviously uncomfortable about that and I would rather just not go.” 

“Why don’t you just text him and make it clear that you’ve got a boyfriend? You can still go and hang out with him, just as long as he knows you're taken.”

“Taken but the most amazing guy ever.” You grin, a toothy grin at Jeongin.

Jeongin laughs under his breath a little before leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you," he mumbles into your head.

“I love you too.” 

Plus a little extra of the boys looking at your both with heart eyes. 

“Omg they’re so cute.” 

“I know right, like can you believe we raised him to be like this.” 

“Yeah and Y/n, what a cutie.”

“Ahh I just wanna squeeze their cheeks.” 

A slapping sound can be heard as Minho looks down at Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin and Changbin who were fangirling over the two of you. 

“They're obviously having a moment, leave them alone.” Chan says. 

“Exactly, Jeongin’s very private when it comes to his relationship with Y/n, let’s just leave them alone.” Seungmin says. 

“Awww, but they’re just so cute.” Felix whines. 

“Yeah! Even you all must admit that this is just so heartwarming to watch.” Jisung says. 

“Maybe it is, but let’s leave them to it alright boys.” Chan says as he rounds the pouting boys up and walks them out the door. 

As all the boys leave, Chan and Minho linger in the door, a soft smile on both their faces. 

“They are really cute though.” Chan says to Minho. “Makes me want to wrap them up and protect them both from the world.” 

“I know how you feel, come on your old man, let’s get these kids some food. Then we’ll bring some back for the two lovebirds.” Minho says with a small smile on his face as both he and Chan leave both you and Jeongin in the dance practice room to spend some time together. 

[jensengirl83]

Pining In The Pines

Dean x reader

Word count-3843

Warnings- Angst, some fluff

Summary- Y/N and the boys have to go on a hunt in her old hometown. She's not happy to go home, and especially not when Dean makes a comment that brings up bad memories. How will she take it? And will Dean be able to make it right?

A/N- This fills my Secret Passageway square for @jacklesversebingo

First, I suck at summaries 😂 Second, this fic is a little self-indulgent. I've written it about where I'm actually from and the stigma about the people in this area. I really hope you like it!

“So, get this,” Sam started the conversation as he looked at his laptop. 

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest. It never failed. When he found a hunt, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘So, get this.’ That’s how she and Dean knew to stop and pay attention. He had something they needed to hear. So, she tried to contain her laughter and give Sam the attention he wanted. 

“Y/N…Do you have to laugh every single time?” Sam groaned but didn’t wait for a response, continuing with what he wanted to say, “There’s supposedly been a Wendigo spotted in Morehead, Kentucky. Homeowners caught it on their security camera for their driveway.”

“Morehead…Isn’t that close to where you grew up, sweetheart?” Dean wondered, looking over at the huntress beside him. 

“It’s a few counties over, but yeah, it’s close enough. Did you say there was footage?” she questioned, leaning forward to look at Sam’s laptop as he spun it around for her and Dean to see. 

Her breath caught in her throat as Dean put his hand on her lower back as he leaned forward to watch the video. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen in love with the eldest Winchester. But how was she supposed to be around him, living in the bunker with him, and not fall head over heels? 

It was true that he had a temper, could be a real grump, and be downright mean sometimes. But, over the years, she’d learned that his temper flared most when someone he cared about was in danger. He would be grumpy when the weight of the world had gotten almost too heavy to bear, and he tried to push it down and keep it bottled up. He was mean when he thought he needed to push someone he cared about away because he was the one putting them in danger. To her, that was just the sign of a man who had been hurt, a man who loved deeply, one who cared so much that the thought of losing someone he loved was unbearable. So, how was she not going to fall for him at some point? 

But that’s as far as it went. She would never admit her feelings. She couldn’t. The likely rejection would be her end, and she would have to leave the bunker. She’d rather pine for him in tortuous silence than not have him in her life at all. So, as always, she shoved her feelings back down, focusing on the screen in front of her, and prepared for the hunt she knew was coming. 

“Earth to Y/N,” Dean nudged her, clearly seeing she was in her own little world. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching,” she rolled her eyes, trying to hide that she was fantasizing about the green-eyed Adonis. 

“Where was that pretty little head of yours?” he teased, his words making her heart ache. If only he really thought that way. 

“Just thinking of what I’ll need to pack. ‘Cause we’re clearly going to Kentucky, am I right?” she lied, hoping they would buy it. 

“Yeah, we have to check this out. I’ve never heard of a Wendigo this far east before,” Sam answered, getting Dean’s attention away from her. Thank Chuck. 

“There’s a lot of things in the Appalachian mountains that no one knows about. Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in those woods alone after dark,” she shivered at the thought. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark?” Dean tried to tease, but she gave him a stern look that made him think twice. 

“You should know that I’m not scared of the dark. I follow you into some of the darkest, creepiest places on earth. But, I grew up there, Dean. It’s not even just the monsters you have to worry about. I mean, there are bears, mountain lions, wolves…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention some of the crazy people that live in those mountains. 

“Okay, okay,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it.” 

“You better. You have to keep your head on a swivel while we’re in the woods. I’d hate to have to save your sorry ass from the real-life Yogi Bear,” she winked, “Because your ass will be the picnic basket.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed at her sarcasm as Sam laughed. Even though she was crazy in love with him, she could give him shit right back. And to be honest, she thoroughly enjoyed frustrating him. As she saw it, it was payback for him making her love him in the first place. She continued to chuckle as she went to her room to pack. Y/N didn’t like the thought of going home. Too many memories she’d like to forget. But duty calls, so she was packing her bags for the long drive to southeast Kentucky. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I highly doubt there’s a Wendigo here. They don’t stay in the wide-open woods,” Dean complained while trekking through the mountains. 

“Dean, do you not know anything about the topography of Kentucky?” Y/N asked, shaking her head in annoyance. He’d been in a mood all day. 

“Yes, sweetheart. I spend all my free time studying the layout of a state I rarely ever visit,” his sarcasm made her want to smack him in the head. 

“Well, dear,” she said just as sarcastically, “Kentucky is known for its underground cave systems. You know, Mammoth Cave. One of the biggest cave systems in the world…”  

“Of course! Because spelunking is high on my to-do list!” 

“Oh! Look at him, Sam. He��s using big boy words like spelunking. I’m so proud of you, Dean!” she half shouted at him. Trying to keep her voice down so as not to attract unwanted attention to whatever was out there. 

“Guys! Knock it off. We’re here to kill a Wendigo. Not for you two to kill each other!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“She started it,” Dean whined, acting like a child. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” she growled as she walked ahead of them. Leading them to the caves she knew were close. 

Y/N ignored the bickering between the brothers behind her as she made her way through the trees. She loved Dean, but today, she thought about leaving him in one of the caves they found. He’d been an ass since they woke up at the motel, and she couldn’t figure out what had his boxers in a bunch. They’d had to share a bed, but she didn’t think he’d be that pissed about that, but she wouldn’t put anything past him at that point. But, whatever it was, it tempted her to make him Wendigo lunch. 

“Slow down, Y/N. We’re not born and raised hillbillies like you are. It’s taking us a little longer to navigate this hellscape,” Dean yelled, grumbling under his breath about her getting too far ahead. 

Y/N froze. That was the last straw. Yes, she’d been born and raised in the area, but that word…Hillbilly. She’d been trying to get rid of that stigma since she left the mountains, and now hearing Dean, the man she loved, call her that derogatory term was too much to take. 

“Let me tell you something, asshole! Yeah, I grew up here, but I’m not a fucking hillbilly! I’ll have you know not everyone who lives in Appalachia are backwoods, uneducated, rednecks! So, take that term, and shove it straight up your ass!” she screamed, her anger boiling over into dangerous territory. 

Before either of the boys could say a word, a guttural, terrifying growl tore through the darkening woods. Y/N spun around to see what they’d been there to find. The Wendgio was only about thirty feet behind her, moving in quickly. Sam shouted for her to get behind him, breaking her out of her stupor. Once she’d cleared his line of sight, Sam grabbed his homemade flamethrower, flicking his lighter to ignite it, but nothing happened. He tried again but to no avail. Y/N’s screams tore through the night air…

“Run! Follow me!” 

The boys were quick at her heels as she weaved them in and out of the trees and underbrush. Dean couldn’t help but think about how impressed he was at her agility in that terrain. He could tell she’d grown up here and knew her way around, which brought him to his next thought. How guilty he felt for saying what he had. But now was not the time to apologize. Right now, he had to concentrate on not losing sight of her and getting shredded to pieces by the monster on their tails.  

“Here! Guys, hurry!” she shouted, an old moonshining cabin in her sight. 

Once she reached the cabin, she flung open the door, waiting for the boys to enter before slamming it shut, silently praying that the rickety lock would hold just long enough to devise a plan. 

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean asked, hands on his knees as he panted for breath. 

“I don’t know! The flamethrower has never not worked before,” Sam answered with the same labored breathing as his brother. 

“Well, we can figure that out later. Now, we need to figure out how to stay alive!” Y/N yelled, panic starting to set in. 

“Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll be okay,” Dean tried to calm her down, but she was still too angry with him. 

“Don’t! Do not ‘sweetheart’ me! You had no right to talk to me like that!” 

“Look, swe- Y/N, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why that made you so mad,” Dean spoke as he looked around the cabin for something to use as a makeshift weapon. 

“That was a shit apology, Winchester. Just…just don’t speak to me until we get out of this mess,” she groaned, then mumbled, “If we live through this mess.” 

“Hey!” Dean shouted, getting her attention, “We are getting out of this. Don’t talk like that.” 

“Can you tell me how you plan to get us out of here? Cause I don’t see another way out except through the door that Wendigo is now trying to beat down!” 

As she walked toward Dean, her foot almost went through the floor, or at least it felt like it. She stopped, pushing down with her foot one more time. The bounce under her foot had her laughing loudly, and the boys looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Dean spoke as she started to rip the rug she stood on out of the way. 

“Care to tell us what you find so funny?” 

“This!” she continued to laugh in relief as she pointed to the hatch in the floor where she’d been standing, “It’s our way out!” 

“How do you know that? It could be just an old cellar,” Sam asked, walking over to inspect what she’d found. 

“Well, as Dean so nicely put it, us hillbillies would dig secret passageways to transport the moonshine back and forth without the police seeing them. They almost always lead to an abandoned coal mine or cave opening. Sometimes other cabins.” 

“Y/N, come on, I tried to apologize. I didn’t know it would upset you that much,” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“Well, it did, and…” she started to argue when Sam interrupted them. 

“Maybe you two can finish this fight once we know we’re not going to die? Let’s go!” 

Y/N and Dean simultaneously rolled their eyes. Sam would have told them they were two peas in a pod if they weren’t in such a hurry to save their asses. Y/N was the first one down the ladder, explaining that she’d be their best bet for not getting completely lost underground, and neither brother disagreed. Dean followed, with Sam on his heels. Once they were underground, Y/N led the way, and the boys were impressed with how well she could get around in the tunnels. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean was going to ask if she really knew where she was going, but before he could open his mouth, they turned a corner and could see a light up ahead in the tunnel's ceiling. Y/N was climbing the ladder through another hatch before Dean knew what was happening. Maybe her nickname should be Squirrel instead of him, he chuckled to himself. As the last brother made it out of the tunnel and into another cabin, Y/N slammed the hatch, pushing an old, heavy piece of furniture over it. Luckily, this one was still quite furnished, with beds still in the bedrooms and an old couch in front of a fireplace. 

“This is home until morning,” she stated, looking around, finding, albeit dusty, pillows and blankets in a closet.

“Better than nothing,” Sam shrugged, walking into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door, leaving only one bedroom for her and Dean. 

“Looks like we’re sharing again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Nah, take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” she whispered, not looking at him. Damn, she was still mad. 

“I’m not taking a bed and putting you on an old debilitated couch, Y/N.” 

“It’s fine. My adrenaline is still too high to sleep. Besides, I’ll keep watch so you can get some rest. You have to drive us back to the bunker tomorrow. I can sleep in the car.” 

“Y/N…” 

“No, Dean, it’s fine. Please, just take the bed. I’m too tired to argue,” she almost begged, wanting to be alone. 

“I thought you said you weren’t tired?” he smirked, trying to joke, but she wasn’t having it. 

“I’m mentally exhausted. I just need time to myself to wind down. Now, please, go get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning,” she pleaded, the look on her face breaking his heart. He had really hurt her with what he said. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night,” he said dejectedly, knowing it would be a sleepless night. His guilt would make sure of it. 

“Night,” she replied, turning her back to him, sitting down on the couch, staring out the window, never glancing his way. The click of the door made her wince as Dean went to bed.

Sleepless night was an understatement. Dean’s eyes didn’t close once as he lay there thinking how wrong the day had gone. He and Y/N had argued since their feet hit the floor that morning. Him being an ass was the reason for it. He hated fighting with her, but when he woke that morning, she was curled up at his side, her head on his chest. Usually, a man wouldn't complain about having a beautiful woman wrapped around him, but it tends to put you in a pissy mood when it’s a woman you love but can’t have. 

Dean was ass over tea kettle for Y/N, but he’d never tell her that. She deserved so much better than being saddled with a man who could barely stand his own company most days. He drank too much, and he wasn’t good at communicating how he felt. He knew that. Sam had told him many times he needed to learn to open up, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the shitshow that was his mind. Especially her. So, as with his other emotions, he pushed his love for her deep and tried to ignore it. Lately, that hadn’t been working so well. As he lay there telling himself all the reasons he couldn’t have her, a sound caught his attention. He tiptoed to the door, cracking it slowly, and what he saw had him rushing out the door. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he quizzed her as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. Her sobs were what he’d heard. 

“I’m fine, Dean. Go back to bed,” she hiccuped through her tears. She couldn’t tell him the full truth. 

“Obviously, you are the opposite of fine. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, placing her chin between his thumb and index finger to turn her face to him, “Is this about today?” 

“Partially,” she admitted, trying to turn her head back to the window, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. I know I was being an ass, but I had no idea it would hurt your feelings like that. Can you explain to me why? I’m not trying to fight. I honestly don’t understand.” 

“I’ve tried to get rid of the ‘hillbilly’ stigma since I left this place. It's always the same thing whenever someone finds out where I’m from. There’s this image people have about people from the Appalachian mountains that just aren’t true. We’re not a bunch of ignorant, uneducated people who live deep in the woods and never come out. Unfortunately, movies and TV shows have depicted us in such a bad light that most people think that’s all we are. And when that term comes from the man you…” she gasped, catching what she almost said. But Dean caught it as well. 

“The man you what, Y/N?” he asked, holding his breath. Was she about to admit what he thought? Maybe, just maybe, he could try to be better, be the man she deserved if she loved him too. 

“Dean…” she whimpered, trying to turn away from him again, but he wasn’t letting her go now. 

“Uh uh, say it. Say it, Y/N,” he pleaded, his eyes staring into hers, “Were you going to say the man you loved?” 

“Yes! Okay? I was going to say the man I loved!” she shouted in frustration as she jumped from the couch, finally breaking Dean’s hold on her, “Now, go ahead and tell me that you don’t see me that way, tell me that you don’t want me, so I can prepare to pack my shit and leave when we get back to the bunker. Because I can’t stay there and see you every day after your rejection. I just can’t.” 

Dean stood and walked to her as she stood staring out the window, her back to him after her confession. He touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Her look of sadness and despair nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He thought having his heart literally ripped out would hurt less than seeing her like this. He slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. A tear trickled down her face as she closed her eyes at his touch, and he swiped it away with his thumb. 

“Is that what you want me to tell you, or do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked softly, waiting for her to open her eyes, which didn’t take a split second. Her eyes went wide. 

“What are you saying?” she uttered shakily. 

“I’m saying that I love you, too, Y/N. I have for a long time.” 

“But, but,” she stuttered, trying to find her words, “You were so mad at me when we woke up this morning. That isn’t how someone acts when they love the person in bed with them.” 

“Sweetheart, I was mad because I opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen curled up against me, and all I could think was how I wanted it to mean something, and I didn’t think it ever would. If I’m being honest, you could do so much better. And thinking I’d never have you that way pissed me off because I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you, Y/N. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and I fall asleep picturing you beside me. I know I’m not a good man, and there’s someone out there that could and would give you more than I’ll ever be able to, but if you really love me, I’m going to be selfish for one time in my fucking life and ask you to give me a chance. I can guarantee that I’m going to piss you off and probably hurt your feelings again, but it will never be intentional. So, what do you say? You want to give us a shot?” He poured his heart out to her, leaning his forehead against hers as he waited for an answer. 

“Dean, contrary to what you believe, you are a good man. You love with your whole being and fiercely protect those lucky enough to get that love. I know you don’t believe you deserve it, but you deserve the world, Dean Winchester, and I’d be honored to be the one to try and give it to you.” 

“Really?” he asked with a million-watt smile, leaning back to look her in the eye. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she returned his smile, both sighing in relief. 

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately. 

The kiss was better than either had imagined, and they both poured the love they felt for the other into it. They stayed that way until the need to breathe became too much, pulling away with smiles. He pulled her into a hug, laying his head on top of hers. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Dean broke the silence. 

“So, you want to move your stuff into my room when we get back? 

“I don’t know, Dean,” she pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip, “I really think we need to take this as slowly as possible. Make sure that we’re going to last.” 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he agreed, his heart clenching at the hurt he felt. 

“I’m just joking,” she laughed, poking him in the ribs, “You’re not going to get rid of me now!” 

“Damn it, Y/N! That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, not finding her joke all that funny. 

“I think I’m hilarious,” she smirked up at him. 

“You’re something, alright. Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We have a lot of packing to do when we get home,” he suggested, leading her toward the bedroom, “You have a lot of shit. I don’t know where we’re going to put it all.” 

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “Well, we could always get rid of your vinyl collection to make room.” 

“Hey! Those are fighting words,” he growled playfully, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. 

“Bring it on, old man,” she cackled as his eyes shot up his forehead in shock. 

“I’ll show you an old man!” he said in faux anger, chasing her into the bedroom. 

All that could be heard as the bedroom door shut was the laughter and playful banter between the new couple, and that’s how it stayed for the years to come.

@flamencodiva​ @foxyjwls007​ @emoryhemsworth​ ​​ @valsworldofcreativity​​ @hardcoresupernaturalfans​​

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[whore-ibly-hot]

Y'all remember Kory Koffman that soft English Teacher? Dawg, I don't know if I should hug and squeeze the air out of that or give him the most sloppiest slop ever. Either way, I love men like that.

"I appreciate this, so, so much you couldn't possibly understand..." He whispering out rambling statements. The occasional moan that slips from his lips he always manages to stifle by biting down lightly on his index finger, hands gripping the hard mahogany desk behind him.

He wants to make eye contact so bad, but he knows the sight of his perfect favorite student on their knees, suckling at his cock, would make him blow immediately, ruining the experience he wished he could make last forever. "Its been a long time." He admits. "A really long time since I've gotten to do anything like this; since anyone's done anything like this to me." He chuckles weakly, removing his fogged up glasses and setting them on the desk. "Being cooped up in here all day, as much as I love it doesn't leave me a lot of time to go out and pursue... other things." He admits.

A sudden hollowing of your cheeks makes him grian, failing to stifle it this time. "God, this is so good, shit, whew-" He's trying to keep it down. "I'm getting close, if you w-wanr me finishing elsewhere you have to pull off now." He warns, and the glance up you give him, pretty wet eyes, your refusal to move, make his cock twitch. It's over for him, and he lets out not a moan, but the most pitiful little squeak you've heard. "Shit!" He yells, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth as he bucks against your mouth, trying his best not to gag you.

He can't even bare to look as you swallow, he's sensitive, he doesn't want to go again but he knows if he sees that it'll all rush back to his now limp cock. Closing his eyes, a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. "Thank you, tha k you again." After a moment, he's hears a shuffling fabric. He winces momentarily at the idea you're already getting up to go, when he feels a pressure on his chest. Fumbling for his glasses and sliding them on, he sees you leaned on him, arms around his waist in a soft hug.

He's worried at first. "Oh, my dear, oh no..." He strokes your back out of instinct. "Did i hurt you, or bruise you, I really didn't mean to; what do you need, what do you-"

You just look up at him, not hurt or crying "Tired." You mumble. "I'm tired, just sleepy." You explain.

He nods in understanding, releasing a breath in relief. "I see. You want me to move you to the couch by my desk. No one comes in at this time of night, I could let you rest while I finish up some work-"

"Wanna stay here." You mumble, yawning into his chest and muffling your sounds against his thick sweater vest. His face goes red, somehow more embarrassed by this than the public act of intimacy from earlier. He smiles, its giddy. He slowly lifts shaky hands to press you closer into him.

"Yeah. That can be arranged too."

[pixiedvst333]

☾ 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙯𝙚𝙧 - 𝘝𝘪 / 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵 (𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘦)

another short one shot. i love wlw stories. my last vi post did rly well thank u guys ♡ >-<

masterlist <3

notes: fluff | wlw | x reader word count: 704

Gentle breeze whipping around your skin, you lay comfortably on a blanket, staring up at the midnight sky as stars and lights flickered in the darkness. A beauty so hidden in the Undercity, you had chosen to sneak up to Piltover, finding a hidden, empty cow-field to camp in for the night as you watched the shooting stars scatter across the horizon. It was rare you came up to Piltover; not only was it dangerous and you would be arrested on the spot if caught, but your girlfriend was to surely kill you if she found out where you were.

It's okay, you were weaponed up. You'd crafted your very own smoke bombs, haltered on your belt beside a five-inch dagger and a hand-crafted gun, and you'd taught yourself enough boxing and strength-training to help yourself. Your girlfriend was just over-reacting.

"Oi, Cupcake!"

Speak of the Devil.

Rolling your eyes as you anticipated the telling-off you were about to receive, you sat up with a soft smile, shooting her a wave as she stormed over. "Hi, Vi!"

"What are you doing up here, Y/n?" she exclaimed, kneeling down to your level as she furrowed her sharp brows. A stern expression sat on her face, but you weren't intimidated. You knew she was simply worried about you and had most likely been searching. "I've told you never to come to Piltover without me."

"Spoilsport," you pouted, looking away from her and staring back up at the sky. "You were out all evening looking for Silco, Vi. I got bored, so I came up to stargaze. Got a problem with that?"

"What if you'd gotten hurt, doll?" she sighed, sitting down next to you and wrapping a firm arm around your shoulders. She gently kissed your cheek, brushing your jaw with her thumb. "What if I didn't get here in time?"

"I can hold myself, y'know," you insisted, unhooking your weapons from your waist and dumping them onto the blanket before you. Vi nodded in appreciation and admiration, picking them up one by one and examining in awe. "You just overthink."

"I just don't want you getting hurt, Y/n," she smiled, passing the weapons back to you and watching as you hooked them back onto your belt. Sighing deeply, she fell onto her back with a thump, arms behind her head as she flexed and showed off her biceps. You followed suit, resting your head on her chest as she draped an arm around your hips. The silence echoed around the both of you, the occasional 'moo' bellowing in the distance along with the gallop of horses. Kisses began to litter your head and forehead, before another to your lips, and you looked up to see a sweet smile on the hardened face of your girlfriend. She tucked your hair behind your ears, and let out a sigh. "It's peaceful up here."

"Yeah, I've been coming here for a while now," you replied, twiddling with the red hair that hovered over Vi's eyes. "Always a place of peace for me. Gets me out of my head."

"I don't blame you," she said, counting the stars in the sky and tracing the constellations with her finger. "Just don't get arrested, cuz I won't be breaking you out."

"You're too kind," you answered sarcastically, shaking your head. "Would you come visit me, at least?"

"Hm, maybe, on the odd special occasion," she teased, pursing her lips as she thought. "Then again, I'd miss your thighs too much."

"Vi," you scoffed, playfully slapping her shoulder as she grinned confidently, swatting you away. "I don't think I'd miss your snarkiness. Maybe I should go to jail if you really love me that little."

"Oh, don't say that," she sighed, picking you up and rolling over so you were lying on your back. She hovered over you, her head cocked to the side as she pressed a kiss to your lips. You melted into her, your arms draped over her shoulders as you returned the kiss. "You know I love you. More than anything."

"More than the stars in the sky?" you beamed, looking into her eyes as she chuckled.

"More than the stars in the sky, my darling."

[rollingsins]

In the name of Taylor Swift

summary: You have to break up with Vada. In the name of Taylor Swift.

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: pure fluff.

word count: 900 words.

a/n: maybe one of the dumber things I've written, but I was in a fluffy mood for bbg Vada. Inspired by tiktok.

“Baby,” You huff dramatically as Vada walks through the door to your bedroom, “I’m glad you’re here. We have to break up.” 

Vada halts. She blinks, her brown eyes widening as her entire face falls. Her hands fall limp by her sides. She’d arrived, not two minutes ago, while you were toiling in bed, thinking seriously. Clutching a twelve inch record in your hands and deciding some things just had to be done. 

“What?” She asks, sounding crestfallen, “But I got you flowers.”

She gestures to the stack of lilies she has in hand. She looks wounded, confused, hurt. Like a little puppy you’ve just kicked in the face. 

Immediately, you sit up, heart falling. 

“No, babe,” You retract, reaching out to her. She blinks back at you, eyes as wide as chocolate buttons, “I wasn’t being serious.  Not a real breakup. A fake breakup. A fake-up.” 

Now, she’s confused. Her eyebrows knit together as you watch as she tries to work it out. 

“A fakeup?” She repeats, blinking slowly, “Why?” 

You tilt your head back to reveal your latest purchase. A shiny, purple vinyl of Taylor Swift’s latest record. 

“Taylor Swift just released an album and I need to experience it in full.” You say, quite seriously. You are serious when it comes to Taylor Swift. You’d thought Vada would know this by now. 

Vada stares. 

Your lips purse into a coo as you pry the lilies from her hand. 

“You got me flowers?” You say, rubbing your hand over her cheek, “That’s so sweet.” 

She smiles, a little shy. 

“Yeah. The lilies you like.” She says, and then she frowns again, “But I’m confused. Why does Taylor Swift mean we have to fake break up?”

“Because I need to be sad, babe,” You explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I need to feel pain the way she felt pain when she wrote these songs.”

“Doesn’t she have a nice song?” Vada asks, a little dubious. 

“No,” You say immediately, “I mean, yes, but I’m saving those ones for when we get back together.” 

“But we’re not apart.” Says Vada, still confused. 

You can’t resist. You lean down and press a kiss to the pout on her lips. 

“We are as of now.” You tell her. You exhale, close your eyes and try to think of Vada breaking up with you. A sharp pain flashes through your chest. You imagine her looking mournful as she does it. Stuttering over her words. Looking almost embarrassed as she tells you she never wants to see you again. 

It works, for a split second.

And then you open your eyes. 

She’s staring back at you, looking sweet as ever. Tilts her head like a confused puppy. 

“Say something mean,” You prompt.

She frowns. 

“No,” She says, “I don’t want to.”

“Babe,” You groan, “I need you to make me sad.” 

“I don’t want to make you sad,” She says. She leans into you and wraps her arms around your waist, snuggling into your chest, “I want you to be happy all the time.” 

You groan. In all your grand-scheming plans, you’d forgotten you were dating a literal ray of sunshine. A golden retriever of a girlfriend who’d never gotten mad at you, or said nasty things about you, or even had a bad thought about you in her life. 

But you need this. 

“Please?” You ask, smoothing down her dark hair to look into her eyes, “For me?” 

Vada frowns. She’d do anything you ask, this you know. And it's hardly a big ask. All she’d have to do is tell you she never wants to see you again and you’d cry and listen to ‘Last Kiss’ and pretend as if your entire world is crumbling. 

And then have vigorous make-up sex to ‘Sparks Fly’. A win-win, truly. A rollercoaster of emotions.  

You squeeze her shoulders in encouragement. 

“Okay,” Vada says, sounding resigned. Her eyebrows knit like she’s thinking hard, “I… don’t like your shoes.” 

At this, you snort. 

“You don’t like my shoes?” You ask, “That’s the meanest thing you could think of?” 

She looks up at you, pout still on her lips. 

“Yeah,” She says. She curls back into your chest, “Because you’re perfect and there’s nothing mean to say about you.”

She pauses. 

“And I actually do like your shoes,” She mumbles into your chest, “I’d steal them if we were the same size.” 

You sigh, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and lean down to kiss her head. 

“How am I supposed to listen to the album when you’re being so sweet?” You grumble. 

“We could listen to the nice songs together?” Vada pitches with a happy smile. And then her lips curl into a coy smile, “And then we could listen to the naughty songs and make out.” 

“There’s no naughty songs, babe, it’s Taylor Swift.” You say with a laugh. 

“Oh,” She looks a little disappointed, “Well, maybe we could make out to the sad songs and pretend like we just got back together?” 

You hum. 

Making out with Vada does sound a lot better than fake breaking up with her. She emphasizes her point with a kiss to your chest. 

“Fine.” You relent, leaning down to press your lips to hers. 

She sighs, happily, curling her hand against the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

“I hope you can rest easy knowing I’ll never experience the blood-curling pain Taylor Swift felt writing ‘Dear John’.” You grumble against her lips. 

She pulls back, a smile on her lips, “Good,” She says, “And you never will. I promise.”

[love-anddeepression]

absolutely obsessed with protective dad miguel omg, like if on a mission where a villains being a creep he would be so feral cause THAATS HIS DAUGHTER so joel coded

Hope you like this nonnie<3333 sorry if there’s any typos.

Tw: a creep. Panic attacks and feelings of inadequacy

"You know, of all the super-heroes I've fought, I'm going to enjoy defeating you the most." the villain grins and chokes you harder, his other hand travels down the side of your spidersuit and he pins you against a wall, "I think it's the suit."

"What is wrong with you dude?" you wheeze out.

He only punches you and his hand moves from your throat to your jaw, "Careful, girly. Or I might not be as merciful as I'm being right now."

You huff, "Yeah, sure. Okay.”

You only realise he’s being serious when his eyes turn animalistic and he grips your cheeks so your mouth is slightly open. That’s when you start to thrash around. Kicking everywhere and you manage to snag him in the balls and he doubles over.

You immediately break out into a run and let out a thwip of webs to swing above him.

Unbeknownst to you or the villain, Miguel O’Hara himself is swinging at full speed to that very alleyway because he was eyes on you.

The moment, he saw the villain acting the way he did, he decided one thing.

He was going to make him suffer.

The villain finally got to his feet and let out a breath and a groan.

He heard a sound behind him, from the dark of the alleyway and dared to turn around.

Two red eyes stared into his own.

He disappeared into the darkness as he was pulled in by garnet webs. The only thing that could be heard were shrieks of pain and the sound of bones being broken.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a snarl, “You will never touch anyone ever again.”

——————-

You were huddled in a corner of a balcony, hugging your knees as you replayed the memory over and over again. Every breath you took hurt and only quickened with each passing moment.

It’s not that serious you idiot what is wrong with you now he’s probably gotten away and Miguel is going to be pissed

You flinch at the sound of someone landing on the balcony. And you almost let out a sob in relief when you hear Miguel’s voice.

His head whips to where you are and his mask disintegrates. His eyes widen a little and he makes himself a bit smaller and says your name softly.

Your breathing slows a little as he breathes with you. Guiding you and his hand hesitantly brings your own away from where it’s holding your hair tightly.

“You’re okay.” His voice is soft and calm, “I’m here.”

With a hiccup you throw your hands around him, “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

“Hey.” He pats your back soothingly, “it’s okay. I got him. The mission is over.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” Your voice breaks against his shoulder and so does his heart.

“I don’t care.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Almost.”

You pull back to look into his eyes, “sorry.”

“Shut up.never apologise. No one hurts my kid and and gets away with it.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious. Understand?” He cups your cheeks softly, and your face scrunches up as tears form, “oh babygirl.” He breathes out as you start to sob.

“I just.. don’t want to be a burden.” You wheeze out between sobs.

That’s when he understands it’s not just about that asshole.

“You’re not a burden, honey.” He says against your hair as you hug him again.

He shushes you as your sobs only grow.

“Hey. Hey.” He pulls you away gently to look you in the eyes, “look at me. You’re not a burden. You’re a valuable asset to this team and we’re all lucky to have you. If anyone of them even heard what you’re saying right now, they’d be shocked. And then they’d be mad. I know that this feeling won’t go away immediately, but for today, know that none of this is your fault.”

“But he could have gotten away.”

“But he didn’t.” He reassures you.

“I can’t screw up like this, Miguel.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He was being a fucking creep and you ran away. It’s alright. You’re human.” He says your name to make a point. “And that’s okay. Okay?”

You breathe heavily and nod.

“Good. Now? Do you want to takeout? We can watch Star Wars back at home.”

You flash him a small smile, “yes please.”

He smiles and takes your hand, “Come on.”

You hug him once again and shake your head against his shoulder.

“You just wiped your nose on me, didn’t you?”

“No, what are you talking about?”

You know that the suit is a hologram right?”

“So the snot is on your shoulder?”

“I swear to god.”

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part6

multipart story! part1 part2 part3 part4 part5

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself at the Red Bull Formula One team’s headquarters. Her company had been invited for a special event, showcasing new collaborative projects. The idea of being back in the F1 world was both exciting and nerve-wracking, but it wasn’t race weekend, so she didn’t expect to run into Lando.

As she walked through the impressive facility, she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Kelly Piquet, Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, was chatting animatedly with a few team members. Penelope, Kelly's adorable daughter, was playfully twirling around nearby. When Kelly’s eyes met Y/N’s, her face lit up with a warm smile.

“Y/N! Baby!” Kelly exclaimed, rushing over to embrace her. “It’s so good to see you!”

Y/N returned the hug, feeling a wave of nostalgia. “You too, Kelly. Oh my god it’s been way too long. I've missed you so much!”

Just then, Penelope ran up and wrapped her little arms around Y/N’s legs. “Auntie Y/N!” she squealed, looking up with bright eyes.

Y/N crouched down to give the little girl a proper hug. “Hey, P! You’ve gotten so big!”

Max Verstappen, standing a few feet away, turned around at the commotion and grinned when he saw Y/N. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Y/N,” he teased, walking over to join the group. “Long time no see.”

Y/N stood up, returning Max’s grin. “Hey, Maximus. Congrats on the last race, by the way. You were incredible. Cute little family you've got here.”

“Thanks Y/N,” Max said, giving her a friendly hug. “How’ve you been? We haven's seen much of you since- well yeah, missed you alot. How are you?”

“Busy, but good,” she replied. “It’s nice to be back in this world, even if it’s just for a bit.”

Kelly looped her arm through Y/N’s. “We’ve missed having you around. It’s not the same without you.”

Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the welcome. “I’ve missed you guys too. It feels like coming home.”

Penelope tugged at Y/N’s hand. “Come play with me, Auntie Y/N!”

Laughing, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled towards a small play area. “Alright, P. What are we playing?”

As she engaged with Penelope, Kelly and Max exchanged knowing looks, happy to see their friend smiling and relaxed. It was a moment of genuine connection and warmth, a reminder that some bonds remained unbroken despite the turbulence of the past.

Kelly watched Y/N with Penelope and then leaned closer to Max. “I hope today goes smoothly for her. She deserves a break from all of that. She is still hurting y'know baby?”

Max nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, she does deserve a good day today. It’s good to see her smile again after we missed out on seeing it for months..”

Y/N lifted Penelope onto her shoulders, the little girl giggling with delight. “Alright, P, let’s go get some apple juice!” she said, feeling the joy of the moment lighten her heart.

As they made their way through the crowd, Y/N’s thoughts drifted. It feels good to be surrounded by friends again. Maybe I can finally put the past behind me. She smiled at Penelope, who was happily pointing out various sights around the Red Bull facility.

Turning a corner, Y/N suddenly collided with someone. Penelope squealed in surprise, and Y/N instinctively reached out to steady herself and the little girl. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up and met Lando’s equally startled eyes.

Oh no. Not now, not here.

Lando’s surprise quickly shifted to a mix of emotions. Y/N? Of all places, here? And she looks as beautiful as ever, You're joking. His heart pounded in his chest, memories of their recent argument and their past flooding his mind.

Before either could react, Penelope squealed with delight. “Uncle Lando!” she exclaimed, leaning over Y/N’s shoulders to hug him. This caused Y/N and Lando to be pulled closer together, their faces just inches apart, almost as if they were embracing. Lando wanted to wrap his arms around the woman in front of him and never let go. He missed this, the feeling of being loved by Y/N.

“Penelope, careful,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart racing from the sudden proximity to Lando.

“Hey, P,” Lando managed to say, his voice strained. He gently ruffled Penelope’s hair, trying to focus on the little girl and not the overwhelming presence of Y/N so close to him. Why does this still affect me so much?

Penelope’s excitement was palpable. “Y/N is getting me apple juice! Come with us, Uncle Lando!”

This is not happening. Please, not now. Y/N could feel her pulse quicken, a mix of anxiety and the unresolved feelings she thought she had buried deep.

Lando forced a smile, though he could feel the tension radiating from Y/N. “Sure, P. Let’s get you that apple juice,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. Stay calm, don’t let her see how much this affects you.

They walked together, a somewhat awkward silence settling over them. Y/N could feel the weight of Lando’s presence beside her, each step bringing back memories she had tried so hard to suppress. Just focus on Penelope. Don’t think about him.

When they reached the refreshment table, Penelope squirmed off Y/N’s shoulders and eagerly grabbed a cup of apple juice. “Thank you, Auntie Y/N!” she chirped, then looked up at Lando. “Can we play a game now?”

Y/N forced a smile, her voice strained. “Why don’t you go show Max your juice, P? I’m sure he’d love to see it.”

Penelope nodded enthusiastically and ran off, leaving Y/N and Lando standing awkwardly by the table. The tension between them was palpable, neither knowing what to say.

Lando finally broke the silence. “Y/N… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

What are you even supposed to say in a moment like this?

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be here either,” Y/N replied, her voice tinged with an edge she couldn’t quite suppress. Stay calm. Don’t let him get to you.

Lando looked down, his fingers drumming nervously against the table. “How have you been?” he asked, the question loaded with more meaning than he intended.

“Fine,” she said shortly, trying to keep her emotions in check. Don’t show him how much he still affects you.

The silence stretched between them, filled with everything left unsaid. Finally, Y/N took a deep breath. “Lando, about what I said last time…”

Lando shook his head, cutting her off. “It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.” But his eyes betrayed the hurt he still felt. I don’t think I can handle this right now.

Just then, Penelope returned, tugging on Lando’s hand. “Come on, Uncle Lando Auntie Y/N! Let’s go play!”

Lando forced a smile, grateful for the distraction. “Sure thing, P.”

As they walked away, Y/N watched them go, her heart heavy with the weight of unresolved feelings and the painful realization that moving on was going to be much harder than she ever anticipated. Maybe it’s time to face the past, no matter how much it hurts.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164 @imboredway2much @demandealalune e e @elz-xo o @bellelovesharryy @hey-there9-its-me @marauders-wife @itsjustfranzi @l-sofiamia-l @ironmaiden1313

comment to get added to taglist

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii, i love your storys and i hope you could do a Casey Nowak one, were casey is older than the reader. Casey has her menopause and has not that much of a high sex drive anymore and other menopause symtomes. She is really scared that the reader will leaver her. They have to find a way to handel the "problem".

Hey, friend! Hope you enjoy! 💖 - illdowhatiwantthanks

Changes

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: implied sex, discussions about sex, menopause, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Something's wrong with Casey. You can tell. But she doesn't seem to want to talk about. You're worried you've done something wrong, but it turns out to be something neither of you have control over.

It was one of those days that should have been perfect. A light rain outside served as the perfect excuse for you and Casey to stay in bed all day. And, for the most part, that’s where you’d been. Besides a late brunch–pancakes eaten hot as you stood by the kitchen counter–you’d been lounging around. Casey had gotten a bit of work done, but her laptop sat abandoned on the nightstand now as you straddled her hips, lavishing her in long, slow kisses. You took your time with her; you had time to take today.

But there came a moment when you realized, even as aroused as you were, that Casey was no longer kissing you back, not really. You pulled back, looking at her curiously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You okay, love?” you asked.

Casey avoided your eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry, honey, I’m just not feeling it today.”

“That’s okay,” you assured her, moving to lay beside her. And it was. It was always okay if Casey wasn’t feeling it. But you couldn’t help the aching in your lower stomach, the wetness pooling that you knew would probably not be taken care of today. And probably not tomorrow. The truth was, Casey hadn’t been feeling it much at all lately, which was odd for her. For the entirety of your relationship, over five years now, Casey had always had by far the highest sex drive of the two of you. But now, it was like a switch had been flipped.

Nevertheless, you tried your best to be loving and supportive, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing your face into the crook of her neck. But as soon as you did, Casey squirmed away, huffing.

“Y/N, just…don’t touch me right now, okay?!”

Her voice was rough, harsh, and you flinched. Casey sighed and covered her face with her hands, flushing deeply. You moved away, watching her with concern. Casey never yelled at you. And she always liked to be touched. So much so that you teased her about it. Something was wrong. And it had to have been something you did.

You wondered what it was. It must have been something bad for Casey to react like this. Casey was so direct, she didn’t let anything fester. So for her to avoid talking about it? You wracked your brain, going over the last weeks and months of your relationship, trying to figure out what you’d done to drive a wedge between the two of you.

You felt tears form in the corners of your eyes. This had never happened. Not with Casey. You talked things through. You worked things out. You left nothing unsaid or unspoken. You were suddenly terrified that something had ruptured, something that you wouldn’t be able to fix.

“I’m sorry, Casey,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

She turned quickly to look at you, her eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Oh, honey, for what?” she asked, wiping a loose tear from underneath your eye.

“I can tell something’s wrong,” you said, your voice quiet. “Did I do something? Did I hurt you?”

Casey exhaled heavily, a few of her own tears glistening in her eyes.

“It’s not you, sweetheart, it’s me,” she mumbled.

Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach. It’s not you, it’s me. That’s what people said before they left you.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Casey groaned and rubbed her temples, chuckling a little. “But you might want to break up with me after this.”

“Casey,” you pleaded. “Please talk to me. What the hell is going on!?”

She sniffled, a single tear dripping down the side of her face, and you grasped her fingers in yours.

“I haven’t had a period in three months.” She spoke quickly, as if afraid she might not get it all out.

Your hand shot to your mouth. “You’re pregnant!?”

Casey choked out something that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Y/N, I’m gay. How would that even happen!? I’m not pregnant.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m starting menopause.”

You were silent for a moment, watching as Casey squeezed her eyes shut, trying (and mostly failing) to suck the tears back into her eyes.

“Oh,” you said, when you finally spoke. And then felt like an absolute idiot that that’s what you led with. But this was new, and you weren’t really sure how to address it. You were years, maybe even decades, away from menopause yourself, but you wanted to do all you could to support Casey.

“Well, are you…” You stumbled through your words, as if tripping over rocks. “Do you feel… okay? How are you– God…” You covered your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry, love, I’m completely fucking this up.”

When you removed your hands from your face, you were shocked to see Casey shaking with sobs.

You surged toward her. “Hey,” you cooed, your voice heavy with emotion. Your hands stopped just before touching her. “Can I… Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nodded, shuddering, and you pulled her onto you so that she could rest her head on your chest and you could wrap your arms protectively around her, placing a flurry of kisses on the top of her head. When her tears had subsided and her breathing slowed, you carded your fingers through her hair, hoping the rhythm would help calm her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she said, her voice rough from crying. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I just… I’m hot as hell all the time, and I’m moody, and I’m dry as the fucking Sahara.”

“You are hot all the time,” you teased, resting your chin on her head.

She swatted at your arm. “This just…” Casey sniffled again, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “It’s not what you signed up for. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Casey.” You sighed, caressing her cheek. “This is exactly what I signed up for.”

“No, it’s not. I’m basically an old lady.”

“Hey,” you said, tilting her chin up so she had to look at you. “I can assure you that you’re not an old lady. You know how I know?”

Casey shook her head.

“Because I don’t want to fuck old ladies.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a bit.

“Now when you’re actually an old lady, like a little meemaw, and we’re living in the retirement village, I’m sure then I’ll want to fuck old ladies because I’ll be old, too, and my tastes will have grown with me. But for now? No old ladies. Only MILFs.”

Casey giggled, and you smiled, glad to see your girl feeling like herself again.

“Okay,” she conceded, still a bit hesitant. “But you deserve sex if that’s what you want. And I… I don’t really want sex very much right now.”

You stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Come on, now, Counsellor, you work SVU. You know better than that. Nobody deserves sex. That’s not how it works. And I think you forget that I know my way around a vibrator.”

“Yeah, but–” You shushed her quickly with a finger pressed lightly on her lips.

“No buts. I love you, Case. Not because you’re great in bed. Although…” You shrugged. “I mean, you are. I love you because you’re you. That’s not gonna change.”

Casey sighed. “Okay,” she whispered, snaking her arms around you.

You sat like that for a few minutes, relieved to be on the same page again, to know what was wrong. And even though you might not be able to fix it, you could at least be there for her.

Casey finally spoke, her fingers playing lightly with the drawstring of your sweatpants. “If you wanted to try out the vibrator… Maybe I could watch?”

You shot up, staring at Casey as she smirked at you, desperately hoping she was serious. “Really?”

She nodded, propping herself up with her elbow. You launched yourself out of bed, full-on sprinting to the closet, where you kept all the toys. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you breathed.

Casey laughed and called out, “You better not come too fast! That’s no fun for me.”

You grinned, poking out of the closet to point at her. “See? I told you! MILF.”

Casey shook her head playfully, relieved that you’d taken the news so well. And so, so happy that you were hers. As you rifled through the closet, you felt much the same.

[ohithankyou]

decided to watch all of buck’s breakups last night and here are (part) of the conversations/how each of the breakups played out to compare and contrast if you so desire. i didn’t include the entire conversations because it would be too long and i think the parts i included capture the core of the breakups well enough.

note: information in square brackets is just some context i included since i didn't add the full conversations

buck and abby, breakup, 1x10:

[after abby’s mom passes and she books a ticket to ireland in an effort to find herself and what she wants]

abby: “. . .i care about you so much. you’re amazing. and these last few months, i think you've gotten me, at least halfway, to the person i want to be. but I've got to do this [go to ireland/travel] so that i know i have something to give.”

buck: “i’m excited for you. almost as much as i am, um, sad for me. i’m gonna miss you.”

abby: “i’m gonna miss you, too.”

[when buck is dropping her to the airport]

abby: "you're not gonna come in with me?"

buck: "i learned a while ago, you never go beyond the glass doors."

abby: "i must be crazy to be leaving you behind."

buck: "you're not leaving anything behind. you're moving toward something. and i'm gonna be right here when you come back, okay? go on. you got this, okay?"

abby: "take care of yourself, okay?"

buck: "you, too, abby."

buck and abby, ‘closure’, 3x18:

[after abby and buck meet for the first time since 1x10 when she and her finance are in a train derailment and buck + the 118 save his life]

abby: “. . .i just had no sense of self. i had to leave everything that i knew so that i could remember who i actually am.”

buck: “and you did, right? i mean, you did remember, but you still didn't come home.”

abby: “yeah, i know. i think i was afraid that if i came back, i would become that person again. because i missed you. i wanted to see you. but i didn't trust myself.”

buck: “because being here, being with me, you might lose yourself again?”

abby: “yeah.”

buck: “i’m glad to see you happy, abby. you deserve it.”

—

buck and ali, 2x18:

[after buck’s leg gets crushed under the fire truck and it hits ali what it means to be with a firefighter]

ali: “. . .look, it’s not like i didn't know you were in a dangerous line of work when i met you, you know, ten stories up of a collapsing high rise.”

buck: “exactly.”

ali: “that was one day. one day of my life, evan. it’s every day for you. i’m just starting to really understand what that means.”

buck: “wait, so-so you want me to quit my job, that's what you're asking me to do?”

ali: “no, i would never, i would never ask you to do that. listen. i know it's who you are. i’m just not sure. if it's…”

buck: “…who you are.”

ali: “hey. i don't know yet. okay?”

—

buck and taylor, 5x18:

[after taylor publishes the story about jonah buck had asked her not]

taylor: “. . .i’m sorry you're still upset about the story.”

buck: “you’re not sorry for what you did, though.”

taylor: “the story was gonna come out regardless. if i hadn't have broken it, someone else would have.”

buck: “you couldn't have called me first? no. you-you just, you figured i’d be fine. i’d get over it.”

taylor: “buck, i wasn't trying to hurt you or anyone else. i was just trying to get the truth out there. a truth the public has every right to know.”

buck: “this is literally our first argument all over again.”

taylor: “which is why we shouldn't be having it. you knew who i was when we started dating.”

buck: “i guess i thought i could learn to live with it.”

taylor: “i don't want to be something you have to learn to live with.”

buck: “and i don't want to keep on making the same mistakes. i need things to be different, taylor.”

taylor: “okay. i’m willing to try that. clean slate.”

buck: “yeah. just not together.”

—

buck and tommy, 8x06:

[after bucks tells tommy that he also dated abby]

buck: ". . .my relationship with abby was—it was the most transformative of my life. until now. look, i-i think one of the reasons that i am so comfortable with you is-is 'cause you're so comfortable with you."

tommy: "i wasn't always that way."

buck: "i know, i-i do. and honestly, it just makes me admire you more."

buck: "i want you to move in with me. i want you to move in with me. i-'m ready to take the next step. and i'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you. all I'm saying is, why be apart when we can be together?"

tommy: "evan, that is so sweet but I can't move in with you."

buck: "and why not?"

tommy: "because, i know how this ends."

buck: "uh, wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

tommy: "look, evan. you're an incredible guy. big-hearted. hot as hell. funny. impulsive. but what you're feeling right now is... is new. and it's exciting, and it feels like forever. but you're still figuring yourself out. and that's good."

buck: "what are you saying?"

tommy: "i'm saying no matter how bad i wanted to be, i'm not your last. i'm your first."

buck: "well, hey, they-they can be the same thing."

tommy: "but they usually aren't. if i were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it but you'd end up breaking my heart. and i, i don't think that i could deal with that."

tommy: "i should go."

buck: "wait, wait, wait, hey, hey, um... wait, d-did you just break up with me?"

tommy: "yeah. i guess i did. believe me, i didn't see it coming, either. should've known that parking spot was too good to be true. i'll see you around, buck."

[marshmallowprotection]

"What do you have there, Saeran?"

Saeran glanced over his shoulder to meet your gaze. He wasn't trying to go out of his way to hide what he was doing, which was a good sign, after all! It was a difficult transition to go from hiding something that had remotely anything to do with things that deviated from Mint Eye's goals to being allowed to enjoy his hobbies without a hammer being held above his head.

He knew you would never judge him for what he enjoyed, but he was still learning what he wanted to do with his time. It... was easier for Ray. Ray had begun to cultivate a garden in a small plot of your backyard. He started out a lot smaller despite the plans you'd seen in his journal if only because... he only had so much space to work with.

However, it gave him something to do in his free time and it kept his hands busy. Ray had a difficult time relaxing, and you knew that it wasn't that different for Saeran. He needed to do something. He couldn't sit still. They both didn't know how to catch their breath and let the moment play itself out. The therapist had advised them to take it easy, to build up their new hobbies without turning them into a big task like their previous job had done, but the idea of "taking things nice and easy" wasn't in their vocabulary.

So, to see him working on something made you happy, but you sought him out to make sure that he hadn't forgotten to take care of his needs. He needed to take longer breaks, drink some water, have a nice snack, lean his head back and relax his shoulders, and most of all, enjoy himself.

"A caterpillar habitat," he explained. "I noticed Ray's distress over a few eaten flower petals... and decided to investigate what creature had lunch in his garden. He doesn't want to hurt a little bug, but he doesn't want them to eat all of his flowers, either. I can't imagine I would be all that happy if somebody took me away from such a nice meal, so, I figure I should do something for the caterpillar."

A smile danced across your face as you realized his intention. Even after the fear Saeran had expressed to you about what he thought of himself compared to Ray, you couldn't see where he could've gotten that idea other than Rika. He feared that he was nothing but destruction, a hollow shell filled with nothing but anger, but here he was, with a pair of tender hands, taking care of a small bug that most people would simply smush to be rid of their "problem".

Not just because he wanted to look after Ray, but because he empathized with the creature who'd done nothing wrong.

He and Ray used to compare themselves to bugs, "we're insignificant, worthless, take up space, and better off dead". Saeran had only recently told you that they didn't view bugs like that... and the only reason why he ever said those words was... because they were insults hurled at him as a little boy. Those cruel words cut deep into his tender chest, into Ray's chest too, but they never thought to insult bugs or hate them for it.

How could they?

The bug had committed no crime, it merely existed. It was no different than how they never committed any crime by being born and... no one should have made them feel otherwise.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," you eventually said. "Have you been doing research on what they like best?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It turns out there's a lot of material you can read on the subject online. I think... I've figured out the best environment for this little guy, though. I didn't want to get it wrong, so I made sure what I found was... more or less safe for his specific family. It's tricky to get it just right, apparently. It's so "simple" that you can miss it."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"...Can you grab some twigs from the garden?"

"Of course! We'll make the best home for your caterpillar friend."

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

When Dean starts mentioning his ex it makes you start doubting how stable your relationship is

@lacilou s idea

You were half asleep, curled up to Dean's chest. His fingers were slowly tracing patterns on your bare back as he sung along with whatever was playing on the radio, the light rumble of his voice was nearly lulling you back to sleep. The bed was warm and soft, his body against yours was an added warmth and comfort. You'd known the boys most of your life, the perks of hunting but you and Dean was a development that had just happened a few years before.

Him and Sam had discovered the men of letters bunker and as a byproduct had extended an invitation for you to use one of the many extra bedrooms. You weren't sure how the line between friends and lovers was crossed between you and Dean.

The first time you saw a spark of what could be was when a guy had gotten handsy with you in a bar after a hunt. You were sore after all three of you had gotten tossed around, the bruising on your side was already multiple shades of purple. You'd left the boys to go to the bathroom and hadn't noticed a guy watching you.

When you walked out the bathroom he'd grabbed you rather roughly. Any other time you would've kicked his ass with no problem but his fingertips had dug into the bruise forcing the air out of your lungs and a gasp of pain to escape your lips. "Hey asshole" You heard Dean's voice a half a second before the guy was ripped off of you.

You watched as Dean hit him and felt some sense of vindication when the guy went down but when Dean moved to hit him again you grabbed his arm, the bouncer was headed your way and not to mention you knew Dean.

He was strong enough to take down monsters on the daily, if he went off on this drunken asshole he could kill him. The anger in his eyes quickly dissolved when he realized it was your hand on him "Sweetheart he hurt you" you smiled slightly "I've had worse dee. You probably broke his jaw as is. Let the bouncer handle it, let's grab Sam and head back to the motel"

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

From that day on any time the three of you went out Dean would stand outside the bathroom and wait on you. You'd felt guilty for a while that his chances of hooking up was cut down extremely by every woman in the bar seeing him waiting on you but when you'd finally brought it up to him he'd simply said "You're more important to me"

The first time Dean kissed you was late one night. You and him had been dancing around feelings for each other for a while.

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

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed listening to music when he'd knocked on your door. "Come in!" You called out turning to sit up instead of being sprawled out. Dean walked in and a smile pulled onto his face "Were you asleep?" Your eyes widened when you realized how your hair probably looked. Not that he hadn't seen you at a worse time but nonetheless you smoothed a hand over your hair "No, was just listening to music" he nodded slowly but you could tell he hadn't just come to your door to see what you were up to. "Something wrong Dee?"

He motioned down the hall "There's a um meteor shower tonight. Sam told me about it, I know you like that kind of thing and there's a few clearings not far from here if you wanna take a little ride?"

You nodded "Yeah let me get my boots on and grab a hoodie" the smile he gave you made your heart flip "Take your time sweetheart"

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

About half an hour later you were laying across baby's hood next to Dean, watching the night sky. His hand found your leg, squeezing gently before he sat up "Y/N, can we talk?" You sat up too and took his offered hand to get off the impala. Once you were both standing he gave you one of those smiles that made your knees weak "Can I just kiss you and stop this dancing around? I know how I feel about you and I'm fairly certain how you feel about me"

"I'd like that" you admitted and next thing you knew his lips were on yours. Kissing Dean was better than you'd ever imagined and you'd imagined it plenty. The way he made you feel from just a kiss was dizzying. When he pulled away he slid his arms around your waist pulling you even closer "I could get used to doing that" you laughed "I could get used to you doing that"

The two of you had ended up watching the sun come up before going back to the bunker. You'd never admit under threat of torture but you were half in love with him then.

You felt his fingers hesitate just a moment before he said "I know you're awake" you cut your eyes up to see green eyes watching you closely. You smiled "I was enjoying the song" he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips but when his hands moved to your hips rolling you over on top of him the kiss deepened. When you had to move away from each other to catch your breath he grinned at you "If I get that for a song what do I get for a few?" You raised an eyebrow rolling your hips down against his which made him choke out a groan "I'm sure we can come to an agreement"

Yeah you'd never admit it but you were head over heels for the eldest Winchester.

You were moving through the bunker, humming to yourself. You'd just gotten through with laundry and was headed to see if Sam needed help with research.

You were almost to the library when you heard Dean and Sam both laughing. The sound warmed your heart, they rarely genuinely laughed. "Man you remember how Mila lost the cop that was chasing her, met us back at Bobby's and cooked breakfast" Sam said and you felt yourself falter.

Sam was one of your closest friends and yeah him and Dean had hunted close with Camila for a while especially while her and Dean were a thing but as far as you knew they hadn't talked to her in a while. Why were they reminiscing about Dean's ex? Your stomach dropped to your feet when Dean's voice was the next to say "Mila has always been a force of nature"

You knew when it came to these two your poker face was shit so you stopped dead in your tracks unsure what to do next. When they started into another story starring none other than Camila Paulso you spun on your heel and headed for the garage. You hadn't realized you were crying until your vision went blurry.

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

This wasn't like you. You weren't the overly jealous type and getting this upset over something so trivial as them reminiscing? Because you had fallen in love with Dean and honestly had no clue if he felt the same. Every insecurity you felt from when you first got with Dean came rushing back. Every little voice that said you weren't his type, that you weren't good enough for him, that he'd never love you blared through your head.

You walked over to one of the older cars you always liked and sat down next to it, forcing yourself to calm down. They were just talking. Maybe you needed a break, you could go visit Jody and the girls. A few minutes passed before your phone went off with a text from Dean "Where are you at?"

You pushed yourself to your feet, checking your reflection in the window of the car before texting back "Garage" you needed to get a grip. Dean wasn't the type to not say what he wanted. He was with you, that counted for something right?

About the time you heard his voice ring through the garage calling your name a small whisper flashed through your head saying "What if he's passing time until he can get her back?"

Why the hell was your own brain working so hard against you?

@lacilou

[hollybell51]

If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding. 

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip. 

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?” 

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened. 

“That was fucking insane!” you burst. 

“Are you ok?” 

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” 

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers. 

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back. 

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.” 

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.” 

“A bullet graze!” 

“It’s fine.” 

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.” 

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !” 

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics. 

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes. 

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another silence, though less tense. 

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest. 

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso. 

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–” 

“No, (Y/N)–” 

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall. 

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast. 

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled. 

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?” 

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own. 

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–” 

No one’s coming. 

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.” 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!” 

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear. 

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him. 

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should. 

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards. 

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed. 

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle. 

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back. 

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath. 

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you. 

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure. 

“(Y/N).” 

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive. 

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.” 

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…” 

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.” 

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

 You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know. 

“For yelling at me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–” 

“All that matters. You said.” 

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle. 

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.” 

The frown deepened. “Hm?” 

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real. 

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely. 

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek. 

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up. 

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.” 

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his. 

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too. 

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition. 

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt. 

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything. 

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt. 

“Huh?” 

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.” 

“All’s fair in love and war.” 

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose. 

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?” 

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine. 

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?” 

Again, “Yeah.” 

You smiled. “What about me?” 

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.” 

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it. 

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity. 

“What else?” you asked. 

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.  

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys. 

“Can–” 

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair. 

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.” 

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.” 

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit. 

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders. 

“Hm?” 

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.” 

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?” 

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face. 

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises. 

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–” 

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad. 

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–” 

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders. 

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again. 

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail. 

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification. 

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?” 

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.” 

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?” 

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again. 

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap. 

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand. 

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.” 

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?” 

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?” 

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.” 

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–” 

“Insane?” 

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?” 

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?” 

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.” 

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again. 

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?” 

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other. 

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.” 

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined. 

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece. 

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.” 

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.” 

“Hm?” 

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?” 

“(Y/N)–” 

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–” 

“In me.” 

“You sure?” 

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–” 

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter. 

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress. 

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned. 

“What?” he asked. 

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?” 

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything. 

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?” 

He nodded. 

“I still want to check them.” 

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.  

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?” 

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” 

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.” 

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?” 

“Yeah.” 

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.” 

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.” 

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.” 

“Guess I’m just that special.” 

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

[nordidia]

May I request some pain, Raph flavored

Pretty pleaseeeee

i hope i dont sound angry writing this, but please dont send/ask me stuff like this! i've gotten a lot of similar asks like this and this is scary for me but i need to set a boundary!

.

i dont like making "angst" or sad things, i dont make non-happy content for the sake of inflicting pain, and i dont like people assuming/thinking i do! i make it for meaningful emotional impact, i dont want people to tell me how much they like that i "put raph through pain" or assume im appealing to people who like doing that .. it makes me very sad!

i dont make "angst" to purely hurt characters, im making fanart of a character with emotional depth, and to explore the character's reaction to serious matters, and to let people know that theyre not alone, and that struggling can look like many things

some of the most motivating things ive been told by people who like my comics is that it's helped them (and their therapist sometimes!) figure out what was up with them, because i write a lot of things such as ptsd and anxiety and general mental pain to look different than the media portrays. because there really is alot of forms mental issues can take, and not all of them get portrayed, which leaves real people wondering "whats wrong with me" when its right there, just different form!

i think the closest i'll get to making it "just because" is vent art, but that too has meaning. and i will specify when its vent art for that very reason. to say "this isnt necessarily me exploring anything, or canonical, its to make myself feel less alone, and hopefully, the people seeing this as well"

and thats why i make the content i do, its not because i enjoy putting characters i like through bad things,,, in fact, i often hesitate/regret posting because i feel bad about the things i create for the sake of this. but i try to look past it because it can genuinely help a lot of people, and it does help myself too.

i think that assuming i make emotional stuff just for the sake of pain takes away from that.. i try very hard to not over-do sad stuff and i often cut down on it because i dont want to overwhelm people with it, and to prove that i only do the necessities for the sake of healing from the things i put emphasis on

any of the pain i "put them through" is my take on what they've canonically been through, and exploring their reaction and way to deal with the aftermath of that. nothing more,,, nothing less.

ugly things are still worth talking about, especially for the sake of healing growth

this got alot i hope i made sense uhh yeah!! yeah.,, apolocheese!!

TL;DR: i personally make pain for the necessity of healing, not because i think its fun

and now back to our regularly scheduled program