#does anyone know how to make your feet hurt when you have to be standing up for like eight hours?

[meadowfics]

on the court

basketballplayer!cho hyun ju x f!cheerleader!reader requested

the point guard gets all of the love from her cheerleader on the sidelines

you cheer louder than anyone when hyun ju sinks a three-pointer.

no seriously, your colorful pom-poms go flying as you wave your arms to shake them as you shout her name.

during every game, your cheer coach insists on all of the cheerleaders being preppy and cheerful at all times.

your girlfriend is the star on the court and you’ve got a special chant just for her,

“hyun ju, my star, you’re the best by far!”

this is mainly cheered by you whenever she is shooting a free throw after a foul.

hyunju blushes every time and you catch her smiling as she makes the throw into the net.

when hyun ju twists her ankle during a tough game in the 4th quarter, you’re the first to rush to her side.

you ignored her coach’s protests since the fall happened just two feet in front of you.

you kneel beside her, brushing her hair back.

"where does it hurt?"

"i’ve got you, babe,"

"you’re gonna be okay,”

you help her hobble off the court along with her coach who helps.

you spend the night pampering her.

ice packs, a fluffy blanket, and her favorite snacks all lined up.

you cuddle close, letting her rest her sprained ankle on your lap.

you both start giggling as you doodle tiny hearts on her bandage with a marker.

hyun ju teases you about your cheer uniform everyday.

"you look too pretty in that skirt, how am i supposed to focus on the game?”

you just stick out your tongue, striking a silly cheer pose with your arms up to make her laugh.

one day at cheer practice, a teammate misses a catch during a stunt.

you tumble and slam onto the ground, bruising your elbow.

hyun ju sprints from the bleachers, her practice forgotten from the other side of the court. ,

your taller girlfriend scoops you up,

“oh my-- why the hell didn't she catch-- what the hell baby, are you hurt bad?”

she carries you to the bench, gentle as can be, and insists on cleaning your elbow scrapes herself.

the basketball player's touch soft as she dabs antiseptic and kisses each bandage after.

“my brave cheerleader,”

she murmurs, holding you close, her eyes all warm and worried.

you two have a silent ritual that happens after every win.

she lifts you in a hug, spinning you around and lifting your feet off of the ground.

you laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck

“I am so proud of you, my point guard.”

when she’s stressed about a big game, you sneak little notes into her gym bag

“you’ve got this, my love!”

she finds them mid-practice, her face lighting up as she reads the notes with a smile.

you surprise hyun ju by painting her jersey number on your cheek for game day.

when she spots it, she runs over before tip-off.

your woman cups your face, and kissing you quickly before whispering,

“you’re my good luck charm, you know that?”

you made her a little anklet with beads in her team colors.

since she cannot wear bracelets or necklaces during games/

she wears it as an anklet every game.

on a harsh rainy day, you two skip practice to stay in.

the both of you got super bored and built a blanket fort in the living room.

you giggle as hyun ju pulls you inside, kissing your nose and whispering how amazing you are to her.

you once tried to shoot hoops with her, and you miss every shot.

however, hyun ju cheers like you scored the winning point.

she wraps her arms around you while laughing,

“you’re too cute, it looks like my cheerleader’s got no jump shot!”

at your cheer competition, hyun ju’s in the stands, holding a handmade sign

“y/n, my champion!”

you blush, waving at her, and nail your routine, knowing she’s cheering just as loud for you.

masterlist

authors note: I played basketball for one winter season maybe seven years ago so the lingo isn't too new for me lol😅

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

“just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[obsesssedblerd]

Part Four: "I promise, I'll make this right."

- the jjk men promising to be a better partner for you after they forget your anniversary. 

final written part of this smau series.

Pt 1: Toji, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna

update: gojo, shiu and choso here

contains: angst to comfort

a/n: AHHHHH FINALLY!!!! here's part one! sorry for any mistakes!

thank you so much for being patient. I appreciate it. <3

---

TOJI 

Before you can even knock on the door to Toji’s house, it flies open. Five year-old Megumi drops his dog plushie and rushes to hug your legs, his body shaking as he looks up at you with teary eyes. “Where’d you go? I was scared that you weren’t coming back.” 

“Aw, Gumi,” you sigh, reaching down to pick him up so you could hug him closer to you. “I’m sorry, honey.” 

“Please don’t leave,” he whimpers between sniffles. “Me, Tsumiki and Papa would be so sad. He’s already sad. He was crying yesterday.” 

You knew it. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you when Toji came to see you yesterday, but you heard correctly—he was crying. Your heart aches at the utter fear in Megumi’s voice, and the way he’s clinging to you, like he’s certain that you’d disappear if he didn’t. You had greatly underestimated how much you meant to him.

“Megs?! You can’t just open the door for anyone! It’s dangerous—” Toji gasps when he comes downstairs and sees you there, holding Megumi and comforting him. He stands there frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. 

One look at his eyes confirms what you heard last night. They were a little red and slightly puffy.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper to the boy in your arms, “I need to talk to your dad, alright? Why don’t you head back inside?” 

He nods, and you set him on his feet. “Sorry, Papa,” he mutters to Toji as he uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes. 

Toji smiles softly at him and ruffles his spiky hair. “It’s okay.” 

Once Megumi is inside, you and Toji stand next to each other on the porch. You think about what life’s been like the last few days. The anger, the arguing. The hurt. Perhaps this was the hardest part—accepting that you can’t keep pretending that everything is alright, no matter how much you love Toji. 

A warm, comforting hand intertwined with yours, and it shakes you from your thoughts. “We have to talk about this,” Toji starts. “I can’t let this happen.” 

You exhale. “Toji.” 

“I do not care what needs to be done. I’ll do it,” he says, his voice thick with determination.

You glare at him. “I meant it when I said that I’m tired.” 

“And I meant it when I said that I’m not letting you walk away,” he bites back, then takes a small, shaky breath. “Yes, I was crying yesterday,” he admits. “I was crying because you’re considering leaving me, and it terrifies me so much more than I thought it does. Treating you like you don’t matter to me by always hanging out with my friends, along with forgetting our anniversary is such a shitty thing to do, and I know that there’s nothing I can do or say to undo that.” He then squeezes your hand gently, desperately. “But I’m going to try to make it right by keeping my promise to you and being a better man for you.” 

You want to say something, but your eyes pool with tears, so you face the ground instead. It’s so frustrating. You want this to work. You love him, and walking away from him will destroy you, but you also didn’t know if it could work. What if he chooses his friends again? What if he continues forgetting you? What if none of this is worth it and—

“Look at me.” His voice is soft, yet firm.

You shake your head. 

“Baby, please, look at me.” 

You muster the strength to meet his eyes, and his thumbs tenderly swipe underneath yours to wipe away the tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, slightly leaning forward so your foreheads are touching. “I’m so sorry. I swear to you, I’ll never do this shit to you again.”

You’re quiet for a while, then you tell him, “If it does happen again, then I’m done.” 

“Deal.” 

He pulls you to him, and you feel his body relaxing into yours. When you hear him sniffle, you begin to pull back, but he only holds you tighter. He’s crying again, and he doesn’t want you to see. “No,” he tells you in a quivering whisper. “Just let me hold you for a minute.” 

“Toji-” 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you disappeared. Not to mention figure out a way to break it down to Megumi and Tsumiki.” At the mention of his kids, he sniffles again. “Especially Megumi. Fuck, if you left, I don’t think he’d ever forgive me, or smile again. You make him so happy and comfortable.” 

You let him take his time, and relax your head on his shoulder. Once he’s calm again, he pulls away to look at you. “Give me a day to find a new restaurant for our anniversary, and find a babysitter for the kids. Then, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” 

“Yes. I’m going all out to make this up to you. You’re crazy if you think all you’re getting is a dinner after I fucked up this badly.”

---

NANAMI

Though you were super upset with him, you still dreamed of Kento. You dreamed of hefty, detailed conversations that weren’t rushed, long walks along the sandy beaches of Malaysia, private moments that had no chance of being interrupted, and plenty of time to do nothing at all. 

When you awoke from your dreams and remembered that he made the decision to spend his only free moment with Shoko and not you on your anniversary, your heart ached brutally within your chest. Is this how it was going to be forever? Are you going to spend your entire relationship wishing to be with him rather than actually spending time with him? 

You know that you have to talk to him; you’re just unsure of what you’re going to say. A part of you has accepted that Kento Nanami is simply too busy for a relationship with you, and that he’d rather spend his limited free time relaxing. 

You sit in your car, which is parked outside of the house that you and Kento share. Maybe it was best for you two to split ways. You could break the news, then move out within a month. You have plenty of money in your savings, and resources to help you find a new place fast. 

Okay, you think to yourself. Time to go. You exit your car, then walk in towards the front door, your hands shaking while reaching for your keys. When you finally unlock the door and step inside, you stop in your tracks. The living room of your house is beautifully decorated with red and gold balloons and streamers, and there’s rose petals sprinkled on the floor. On the table, there’s a massive, luxurious bouquet of roses in a glass vase, and a box of chocolate covered fruit next to it. There’s also various gift bags neatly arranged on the couch and the floor. 

You expected this. 

“Love, is that you?” You hear Kento’s voice come from the kitchen, and then he appears in the doorway, his shoulders slumping when he sees you. He’s holding another gift bag, and it looks like he was getting ready to place it with the rest. 

“Kento, I-” 

“No, sweetheart, please.” He sighs, then walks over to you. “Please allow me to explain myself.” 

“There’s nothing that needs to be explained. You missed our anniversary.” 

He grabs your hand when you start walking in the other direction. “And I’m so sorry for it. I’m extremely disappointed in myself for missing the dinner you had planned. I promise-” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing, Kento. You keep promising, but you never deliver on those promises!” You snap, whirling around to face him. “You promise me that you’re going to work less so we can spend time together, but you never do. You promise me that things are going to change, but they never do. You promised me one night, which was all I wanted, and you missed it. I took care of everything else so all you had to do was just show up, but even that was too much for you!” 

Kento goes quiet, his honey brown eyes full of desperation as he squeezes your hand gently. “I know,” he says softly. “You’re right. I’ve made promises, and I never delivered. It’s incredibly selfish to ask for more when you’ve already given so much without me returning any of it. It got so bad to the point where you believe that asking for one night is asking for too much, even though you deserve far more than that. I understand all of it, love, and I know why you feel like a break-up is the only option, but… I can’t let you go. I’d be so lost without you. Keeping you requires change, and I’m going to change things, starting now, if you grant me another chance.”

When you don’t answer, he continues, “You’ve been gone for so long. I spent hours sitting here, right on this couch, waiting for you to walk through the door. I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t. I felt sick, and I couldn’t sleep. I don’t want to get used to you not being here anymore. I don’t want to live a life where you’re not here by my side. I love you. I’m so sorry for taking you for granted. I have a lot to prove to you, and if you give me another chance, I’ll do it, no matter how long it might take. I won your heart once, and I’ll win it again.” 

You’re still quiet, but Kento doesn’t press you. Instead, he brings your hand to his mouth and places a light kiss on it. “I have two months off,” he says softly. “Come to Malaysia with me.” 

That surprises you. You blink in shock, then meet his eyes. “What??? Is two months even possible? But Kento, what about your job? Isn’t there something big happening in Shibuya?” 

“I told Yaga that I needed time off, so I got unassigned from that. Since I have had plenty of PTO earned over the years, it’s no problem,” he says simply, then gestures to the room full of presents. “Gifts mean nothing when what you crave the most is time with me. So, I want to give you that, like I should’ve done so long ago. Come to Malaysia with me, and I’ll earn you back there. Just me and you. No sorcerer stuff, no students, no interruptions.” 

“But-” 

“Sweetheart.” His voice is slightly shaky. “I always keep saying how I’d be spending more time with you after just one more mission.” His eyes drift downward. “But as a sorcerer, there’s no guarantee that I’ll come home every single time. There might be a mission where I don’t make it back, and I’ll regret all of the time I didn’t get to spend with you.” 

Your heart suddenly feels heavy. You hate talking about this stuff with him. You can’t imagine getting a phone call and hearing that he died on a mission. However, he’s right. There isn’t a guarantee, and you would be stupid to think that there is. 

He strokes your cheek tenderly, and it pulls you back to reality. “Come with me,” he says. “Let it be the start of me not only making this up to you, but also changing like I talked about earlier.” 

Time alone, completely uninterrupted. It’s all you ever wanted. You know that it would take time to return to good terms, but like he said, it’s a start. 

“Okay,” you say, and he sighs in relief before pulling you into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I promise, I won’t mess this up.”

---

GETO

Shoko lightly taps your shoulder, and it snaps you from your daydream. You look up at her, and she takes the cold cup of coffee from your arms. “You’re spaced out,” she says. “It’s obvious that you’re not going to drink this.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Don’t apologize. These last few days have been hard for you.” Shoko disposes of the coffee, then begins washing the mug. “Have you talked to him since?” 

“No.” 

“Well, what are you thinking?” 

For the millionth time, you reread the last few messages between you and Suguru. He was right about you not trusting him, and it seemed like he took accountability for his actions. However, you’re still hurt. You think you’re going to be hurt about this for a very, very long time. Just thinking about how you spent a while at the restaurant anxiously checking the time, waiting for him to show up, has you falling silent again. 

“Hey,” Shoko sighs as she rubs your back. “It’s alright if you don’t know right now. You might have an answer when you see him-” 

A sudden knock at the door has both of you straightening up. Your eyebrows furrow, and you point towards the door. “Did you text him?” 

“No. I was just about to ask you that,” she says. 

You two approach the door, and you hear voices coming from the other side of it. 

“Satoru, this is a bad idea. She said that she-” 

“Lalalalala! I’m not listening!” 

“Satoru.” 

“Look, I don’t care! You should’ve done this days ago after forgetting the damn anniversary, dumbass. Me, Nanako, and Mimiko are tired of listening to you cryin’ in the shower.” 

Shoko facepalms. “Idiots. Both of them.” She opens the door, and Satoru grins, his blue eyes glimmering from behind his glasses. “Well, look who it is!” 

Suguru, your boyfriend, is nervously scratching the back of his head. You can tell he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. Shoko looks over at you, and you nod that it’s okay. She nods in return, then pokes Satoru’s chest. “C’mon, let’s walk up the street to the bakery and give them a minute.” 

“Yes!” Satoru cheers, then waves at you before shoving Suguru inside and closing the door to Shoko’s apartment behind him. 

Suguru groans in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I know you needed time, but that asshole teleported us here before I could even-” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you sit on the couch. Half a minute later, he hesitantly sits next to you, relaxing into the cushion when he sees that you don’t move away from him. 

“Angel,” he starts, and like always, your heart jumps at the nickname. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” 

You wave him off. “Suguru, you’ve apologized enough.”

“No, you’re saying that because you’re drained. There’s no way I can apologize enough for missing our anniversary. I don’t blame you for being upset or for contemplating a break-up. Anyone would. That’s why I told you that I’m willing to earn your trust back. It’s going to take a lot, and I’m okay with that, if you’re willing to give me another chance.” 

“But what if this is nothing but a waste of time?” You ask. 

He sits up, determined. “It won’t be. I won’t let this happen again.” When you don’t reply, he places his hand on top of yours. “I missed you. Every day, Nanako and Mimiko asked about you. Our little home isn’t the same without you there. I’m so sorry that I missed your dinner. If you give me another chance, I’ll do better.”

Without even knowing, you lace your fingers with his. Though you’re mad at him, you’ve also missed him. But, you miss the Suguru who spent so much time with you towards the beginning of your relationship. You wondered if you’d ever see him again. 

“Hey.” You look towards Suguru, and he brushes his thumb over yours. “You know that I won’t force or pressure you,” he says calmly, even though his voice shakes. “I messed up badly and hurt you. If you truly want to end this, I understand, but-” 

“Suguru,” you cut him off loudly. “I just want my boyfriend to choose me as often as he chooses his friends. It feels like you only consider me when they’re not available, and it got so bad that you forgot our anniversary.” 

“And I’ll do that, and so much more,” he says firmly. “I know that I promised you before to spend more time with you. There’s so much that I need to make up to you.” 

More promises. Though you’re hopeful, you’re also nervous. 

“If I mess up this badly again, I’ll let you go. I won’t argue, I won’t fight it,” he proposes. 

“Alright,” you mumble. “One chance.” 

“All I need. Thank you.” Suguru carefully grabs your wrist, then tugs you into his arms. You breathe in his scent, and your body settles comfortably into his. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Suguru Geto.” 

“I won’t. Now come on, I have some promises to keep.”

You text Shoko that you’re locking up her apartment when you and Suguru leave, then you let Suguru take you outside.

---

SUKUNA

It’s well after midnight when you return to Sukuna’s estate. You walk the familiar hallways until you find your way to the garden. You sit on the dewy grass, and exhale slowly, enjoying the night air. 

You don’t go looking for him. You know that he’ll sense you here and come find you. 

The tiny bursts of light get your attention. Fireflies. He was right, they are out. You were surprised when Ryomen Sukuna told you that he remembered your love for them. After he forgot your anniversary, you were convinced that he just simply didn’t care about you, especially when he said that he only remembered things that were important to him. 

Suddenly, the air around you thickens as you sense his presence. He’s here. 

“You’re back,” Sukuna says from behind you. He sounds a bit uncertain. 

“No point in staying out forever,” you reply flatly. 

He doesn’t respond. He joins you on the ground, and you feel him watching you closely. You stare at the ground, your fingers lightly stroking the blades of grass. 

“But if I did decide to stay away,” you start, still facing the grass, “would you have let me go?” 

“Not if there was a possibility of earning another chance.” 

You finally look up at him, and before you can say another word, he gently puts a finger to your lips. “You are here, so I’d rather not waste time talking about hypothetical situations where you are not here.”

You shrug, then look away again. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to expect when coming back here. The King of Curses was anything but an easy partner to have a relationship with. You didn’t know why you, a mere sorcerer, loved him, but you did; so much and so deeply that it hurt to breathe sometimes. You know that he sees nearly everyone beneath him, but you thought that he at least respected you enough to show up for the dinner you planned. Maybe you’re foolish for returning.

“I hated every second that you were gone,” he says. Usually, Sukuna doesn’t admit to anything like that. It feels nice hearing it. “This place is so quiet without you.” 

A breeze blows in the garden, and it’s chilly enough to make you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. Sukuna uses an arm to pull you closer, and you settle into his warm body with a small, relieved sigh. Your back falls against his chest, and you feel his chin rest atop your head. 

“There is something I haven’t told you,” he mutters.

“What is it?” 

“A year ago, right here in this spot, I realized that it was love.” Your eyes slightly widen, but you don’t stop him. “You were watching the fireflies and explaining some memories you had about them from your childhood. So simple and so harmless, yet it felt like my entire soul had shifted when I finally figured it out. Then it hit me again when I watched you play with Yuuji in the rain, then once more when I held your hand while you slept. It also hit me when you left, and I spent the last few nights feeling your soul tremble as you cried, knowing that I caused it.” 

Sukuna gives your shoulder a little squeeze, then fully wraps his arms around you. “Perhaps if I had told you these discoveries of mine the moment I had them,” he explains, “then you would have never questioned your importance. You have no idea how much you mean because I have not told you. That, in addition to this situation, is my fault.”

Something within you cracks, and a new wave of tears rush to your eyes. You blink them away, deciding that you’ve cried enough in the last few days. 

“Forgive me, petal,” he whispers. “I know you believe that I missed the dinner you planned on purpose so I could hurt you, but that is not true. It will never happen again. You have my word.”

When you tilt your head up to look up at him, you’re met with his gorgeous, crimson eyes. Your king was evil, no doubt, but you always believed that he was the most beautiful being you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You nod once, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Come with me,” he tells you. 

“Where are we going?” 

He stands up, then lifts you into his arms. “You need to rest, and I would like for you to do so with me so I can have you close. Then tomorrow, I will begin to make this up to you, like I promised.” As he carries you inside, you rest your head against his shoulder. “Happy anniversary, petal.” 

Finally, you smile. “Happy anniversary, Ryomen.”

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika , Ambessa , Grayson ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely. I just had the scariest night last night and it ended with me in the ER for almost 7 hours. Basically I let a UTI go on too long and it traveled to my kidneys. But I was in the bathroom about to shower and I got super sick and dizzy and lightheaded, my hands and feet were tingling to the point of pain, I was DRENCHED in sweat. It was so so scary. I ended up passing out on the toilet (so embarrassing). I had to get my mom to come in and she took me to the ER and it was very rough there too because I was so dehydrated they couldn’t get a vein to give me fluids. So 6 times they tried, digging in my arm and all that before they finally got one. Later it ended up bursting which hurt a fuck ton. But all in all I feel like absolute shit.

If you can, could you write an EMT!marauders fic where something like that happens? Just the scary stuff in the beginning or whatever tickles your fancy. If not, no worries. I will just be reading and rereading all my faves of yours for the next few days while I try to get better 🥲

That sounds so awful, I'm sorry that happened to you!! Hope you're feeling much better by now lovely <3

cw: nonsexual nudity, dizziness, nausea, one sexual joke at the end

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 965 words

A knock on the bathroom door rouses you. Steam heavies the air, the porcelain of the bathtub slippery underneath your backside. You feel sick. 

“Hey.” It’s James’ voice, light as though he’s not really concerned. “Alright in there?” 

You look down blearily. A bottle of shampoo rests against your hip. You must have knocked it from the lip of the tub when you passed out, and James must have heard the sound. When did you pass out? For how long?

“James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I need…can you come in here?” 

You hear the door open. Half the steam seems sucked from the room, cool air coming in. “Everything okay?” James asks. 

He tries to open the shower curtain, but you’re lying half on top of it and it doesn’t make it far. You lift up on one side to free it. Your entire body trembles with the effort. 

“Hey.” James definitely sounds concerned now, kneeling at your side. He puts a hand under your neck. “What happened? Did you fall?” 

“I don’t feel well.” 

“I can see that, sweetheart.” He shouts for the other boys. “Does anything hurt? Did you fall over?” 

“No,” you say. Footsteps sound outside, nearing you. “No, I sat down. But I think I passed out.” 

James frowns, taking your wrist to get your pulse. “What do you mean when you say you aren’t feeling well?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer before Sirius is pulling the curtain open further. “Baby, what the fuck?” He crouches beside James. It’s now that you realize how painfully naked you are, lying limply on the floor of the tub with hot water from the showerhead beating down on your lower half. “Did you slip?” 

“She passed out,” James answers for you, brows set in concentration as he feels your pulse. “But she sat down first.” 

“Oh, good girl.” 

Remus shuts off the water. You feel its absence immediately, your body at once lighter and colder. 

“Can I have a towel?” you ask. 

Sirius blinks as though he’s only just realizing your nakedness as well. He stands. “Right, I’ve got it.” 

“Why do you think you passed out?” Remus asks you. 

“I don’t know.” You want to give him a better answer, but it’s all you have. “I just got really lightheaded. I still feel sick.” 

“Sick like you’re going to throw up?” James presses. He lets go of your wrist, giving Remus a look you can’t interpret. 

“Yeah.” 

Sirius tsks, returning with a stack of towels and a fluffy robe. “Okay, well don’t worry too much about that. If you throw up you throw up, we just want to know what’s made you sick in the first place.” 

Between all three of them, they haul you out of the tub. The option of you trying to climb out on your own doesn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind. You land in Sirius’ lap, where you’re hastily wrapped in one towel and your hair in another, James drying your arms and legs with a third. 

“What else are you feeling?” Remus asks you. When you hesitate, “Anything at all, it could help us to know.” 

You try to take stock of yourself, shivering a bit as you do. 

“Cold?” Sirius deduces.

You hum. “And my stomach hurts.” 

He frowns. His hand covers your stomach over the towel protectively. “Yeah? Where does it hurt?” 

“Sort of…” You shift a bit, trying to show him. “On the side.” 

Sirius finds the spot like he knows just where you mean. “Around here?” 

“Yeah.” Panic makes your voice tight. “Don’t touch it, please.” 

“Okay. I won’t, sweetheart.” He moves hand away from your side, kissing your temple. “Have you noticed yourself feeling like you need to pee more often lately?” 

You give him a funny look. “I have a UTI, but this doesn’t feel like the same thing.” 

Remus groans. “Dove, really? You knew?” 

“I knew I had a UTI,” you say, confused. Wary, without really knowing why. “It’s not…this feels different.” 

“Why wouldn’t you treat it?” 

“I was going to.” 

“But when you wait like this and don’t tell us, you—” 

“Alright, alright,” James says in a peacemaking tone. He rubs the towel down your calf. “I think she’s got it, love. She’s clearly not enjoying this.” 

Remus closes his eyes, sighing. When he looks at you again, it’s with a softer gaze. “If you don’t treat a UTI,” he says patiently, “it can cause a kidney infection. I think that’s what you’re dealing with now, love.” 

“Oh.” Your voice smalls. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, that’s okay.” Sirius kisses your face again, his hold tightening when another shiver passes through you. “Why’re you apologizing to us, huh? You’re the one dealing with it. Passing out in showers and the like.” 

“I know you didn’t want this,” Remus promises you, his expression gentler now. James begins encouraging your arm into your robe. “We’ll get you to A&E, and they’ll give you antibiotics to take care of this, alright?” 

“Okay,” you say meekly. 

Slowly, they get you dried up, clothed, and upright. Sirius teases you about the dangers of not peeing after sex. Remus makes worried faces whenever your expression changes and offers to bring a bag along on the drive in case you’re sick. When you try to walk out of the bathroom and wobble, James is quick with an arm around your back. 

“C’mere, lovie.” He lifts you up into his arms. Clearly he’s trying to be gentle, but you moan anyway, pressing your forehead to his shoulder against a bout of dizziness. 

“Oh, I know,” Sirius coos. “You’re alright, baby. We’ll get you feeling better soon.” 

“I’m never letting any of you put it in me again,” you joke weakly. 

To your surprise, it’s Remus who laughs the loudest.

[timmydraker]

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.

Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?

Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.

"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"

It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.

Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.

"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."

"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"

Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.

"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"

Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.

KORTAC

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."

"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."

"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."

The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.

"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."

Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.

"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"

A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.

"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."

Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.

"Wait!"

"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."

Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.

You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.

[holylulusworld]

Longing

Summary: You won't give up on him.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Warnings: fluff, grumpy x sunshine trope (kinda), sweet reader, a/b/o, scenting, true mates

Written for @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge

Trope: Grumpy (and Sunshine)

Prompts: ☀️ A: “Stop coming around here… “ B: “No!” A: “I mean it… I’m just going to end up hurting you if you don’t stay away…” *glaring at each other until one of them grabs the other in a bruising kiss*

He smells you the second you step toward the cell. The alpha dips his head, listening closely to your heartbeat. Your heart always beats a little faster the closer you get to his cell.

He inhales deeply, basking in your scent as you are unaware of his longing for you and your presence.

If only for a few fleeting moments, you make him feel human again.

“Hi,” you shyly say as you stand in front of the cell, carefully touching the bars parting you from the alpha. “I got cupcakes for you and plums.”

His features soften for a second hearing that you remembered he told you about the plums he bought after he was finally free of Hydra.

“I told you to not talk to me,” the alpha grumbles as you place a basket filled with cupcakes, sandwiches, beverages, and plums on the ground.

You unfold the blanket you hid under your jacket, smirking as Bucky watches you with curiosity. “I had to smuggle it inside. They wouldn’t let me bring one last time.”

“Did you hear me?” The alpha asks, waiting for you to finally leave him alone. He’s been on his own for too long and doesn’t know how to handle kindness.

“I have biscuits too,” you say and sit down, cross-legged. “What do you want to eat first?”

Bucky sighs deeply. He mirrors you and sits down in front of the bars. Once again, the alpha gives in to you. “Did they tell you to come here? Is this their newest way to interrogate me?”

You shake your head. “I sneaked in,” you proudly say. “The Avengers are not as smart as they think they are.”

“Doll, you…” Bucky can’t help but grin when you tell him that you outsmarted Tony Stark and Spider-Man. “So, you outsmarted the spider boy?”

“Cupcakes or biscuits? I have sandwiches too.” You move the basket closer to the bars. “Plums maybe?”

While you talk to Bucky, wanting him to eat the food you brought to him, Steve, Tony, and Bruce watch you with worry.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let her see him?” Tony is still not convinced that Bucky is no threat. “What if he freaks out and hurts her?”

“He’s calm around her. Did you see how he looks at Y/N?” Steve argues. “She’s his true mate. If anyone can stop him from going feral and losing himself again, it’s her.”

“If you say so,” Tony huffs, but watches your interactions with the alpha with interest. “Let’s see.”

“Good, right?” You happily ask as Bucky grabs one of the plums. He hums while eating the juicy fruit. “I got the best for you.”

“Why do you still come back?” Bucky asks. “They’ll never let me out of this cage. You’re wasting your time on me.”

“No, I don’t,” you grumble, not accepting any arguments. “I will come here until they release you. You didn’t hurt me. One day, they’ll see you’re a good man and alpha.”

He takes another bite as you slowly get back up. Bucky watches you with sad eyes, believing you want to leave so soon.

“I stole something from Spider boy,” you giggle and wiggle your fingers to show Bucky the keys to his cell.

“Doll,” Bucky warns. He scrambles to his feet and steps away from the bars. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret. What if I cannot hold back?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you confidently say. Holding Bucky’s gaze, you push the key into the lock, unlocking his cell.

“Doll…no.” He takes another step back when you enter his cell, reaching out for the alpha you’re longing for.

“It’s okay. You won’t hurt me.” You assure him. “Please, alpha…”

“Stop coming around here… “ He says, pointing toward the open door as he does.

“No,” you stubbornly reply while stepping closer to Bucky. “I won’t.”

“I mean it…” He pants heavily when your scent hits him with full force. “I’m just going to end up hurting you if you don’t stay away…”

You glare at Bucky for the first time since you met him. Back then, they brought him here in chains made of vibranium. Princess Shuri from Wakanda accompanied him, telling everyone he was free of the programming and the code words.

They didn’t believe her, though. Instead of welcoming the lost man home, he got tested on and thrown into a cell.

Pursing your lips, you hold Bucky’s gaze. He glares back at you, waiting for you to cave in. He’s an alpha after all.

“Fine, have it your way.” You shriek when Bucky grabs you to press you up against the wall. He looks at you for a second, waiting for you to fight him before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

You wrap your arms around him, melting against his body as his lips devour your mouth. Moaning against him, you let Bucky sling his arms around your body, lifting you off the ground.

“What the fuck, Capsicle!” Tony exclaims loudly as you are heavily making out inside the cell. “She… and then.”

“Uh—I think the kid shouldn’t see this.” Bruce clears his throat and covers the monitor with his hand to stop Peter from watching you wrap your legs around Bucky’s waist. “I think they are fine, though. No sign of aggression.”

Tony is not amused. He scrunches up his nose and makes a retching noise. “They can’t just make out in my cell! Maybe I shouldn’t have given him a comfortable bed with soft cushions.”

Steve grins because his friend is more interested in kissing you than escaping the cell. He knows that if Bucky wanted to, he’d have left the cell a long time ago. One flick of his vibranium wrist and he would have been long gone before anyone noticed his absence.

Something kept him from running away as so often before. His omega and true mate.

Tags in reblog.

[nakylvr]

Katseye 7th member!reader gets hurt/injured in a motorcycle race she participated in with her friends. After returning to the Katseye house, the reader tries to be sneaky and skiddadle to their room. but to their lack of luck, Sophia calls out their name quite sternly as she goes full mom/leader-mode on them, reprimanding them and lecturing them how stupid it is what they do. Still, after ofc Sophia can't stay mad at their baby, she drags the reader and sits them on the kitchen counter as she tends to their wounds.

yes 🙂‍↕️ ive had a few thoughts similar to this in my inbox so here's a lil something

warnings/tags: mild injuries, established relationship, 7th member!reader, mild language

slowly opening the front door, you tiptoe inside the house, quietly shutting the door behind you. you slip your shoes off, stumbling over your feet and letting out a groan. your whole body was aching, some parts stinging and your head pounding as you slowly walk to your bedroom as quietly as possible to not wake anyone up.

unfortunately though, one was already awake.

"yn," sophia says sternly, standing in the hallway.

putting your hand on the handle of your bedroom door, you freeze hearing her voice. you turn your head to see her with her arms crossed over her chest, a look you've seen before on her face. you were in deep shit.

"hey–" is all you manage to get out before she's grabbing your hand and pulling you into the kitchen.

"sit," she tells you.

not wasting another moment, you hop onto the kitchen counter and sit, watching her turn on the light and actually see you.

"how many times do i have to repeat myself?" sophia starts. "you keep doing this, and you keep getting hurt. but that apparently doesn't stop you. do you know how stupid this is? racing in the streets when you have a career to keep in check? when you could get hurt far far worse than just a few bruises and scratches? what if you break an arm or leg one day? how are we supposed to explain that? we can't just say 'oh yn goes and does street races at night', that would make everything worse!"

the filipina continues to rant as she grabs the first aid kit and opens it, taking a few items out and setting them on the counter.

"i'm sorry," you say.

sophia pauses, looking at you before letting out a sigh. "you're lucky i love you," she mumbles, putting some rubbing alcohol on a small pad before bringing it to the scratches on your arms.

"i know." you nod.

"i just don't want you to get hurt." she adds, "something could happen one night, and i would never know."

you grab her hands, stopping her movements and making her look at you. "i know, and i'm so grateful you care about me. i promise you that i'll always be okay, and i'll always come back."

"god, how can you be so sappy when you look like this?" sophia rolls her eyes, but is unable to stop the smile on her face.

"because i have a goddess standing in front of me," you say, smiling at her.

"okay, did you hit your head?"

"possibly."

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? (part 2) – ws2

will doesn't only dislike other guys flirting with you – he gets jealous when they as much as ask about you, aswell.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

requested: yes!! requests are always open <3

author's note: had so much fun writing this aaaa hope you enjoy reading it!! can be read as a stand-alone fic but it's better if you read part one first. have a lovely day 💗

read part one here!

will is going through a very uncanny type of déjà vu.

it wasn't more than two weeks ago that he was in this exact position; standing in the corner of someone's living room, a red solo cup in his hands, eyes stuck on you as you wander around, making friends with pretty much everyone. to be fair, your open nature and friendly soul are some of the things he likes the most about you – along with the fact that you make whoever you're talking to feel like they're the funniest and smartest and sweetest person you've ever met – but it's far better when he's the one you give all your attention to.

will doesn't mind not being the busiest bee at the party. he's okay with just staring at you from afar, occasionally indulging in a drinking challenge or a video game. but he can sense that something is about to shift even before it does – and suddenly, he realizes why. the guy you'd been chatting to up until now has just been replaced, and not just by anyone.

charlie is one of the defensemen on the eagles, a year ahead of will, a few inches taller and a few pounds stronger. they're not the closest of friends, but being teammates assures a certain type of bond, which might be why charlie came to will that time after practice last week.

"smitty, you know that friend of yours?" charlie had asked after arriving in the locker room. "the flirty, chatty one with the cute smile?"

will had known that he meant you instantly. he nodded, continuing to unlace his skates without even throwing his friend a glance.

"she's really hot. is she taken or can i...?" charlie asked, playfully bumping his shoulder with the younger's.

will took a deep breath, pulling his skates off his feet and placing them in his stall. "nah, she's interested in some dude in one of her classes." it wasn't true, so he didn't even know why he said it. but one little white lie couldn't hurt, right?

"really?" charlie frowned.

"yeah, sorry dude." will finally turned to the teammate. "she won't stop talking about him, they're pretty much a couple by now." and with that, the older just shook his head, stomping off with a mumble about how this was just his luck.

so now, seeing charlie next to you, will's eyes following the way he rests his hand on the small of your back as you lean in to talk to him... it definitely makes will feel a little nauseous. the one thing he hates more than seeing you get hit on is seeing you get hit on by someone who shouldn't be hitting on you.

an image flashes through his mind; you, sitting in the crowded grandstands as he's skating around on the ice, with an eagles jersey thrown over your body – but with charlie's surname on your back. and then, when the team goes out to celebrate after the big win, he's got you on his arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear and-

the idea is so oddly repulsing that will finds himself moving along to the kitchen to grab himself a new drink.

even when occupying himself with talking to gabe and ryan, he isn't able to completely shut you out of his mind. the friends, knowing will far too well after many years together, can easily tell that something is bothering him – assuming that it's girl problems, and assuming that girl is you – and feel a need to do something about it. they're just about to pull him out to the backyard when suddenly, a hand lands on his arm.

"can i steal him away for a second, boys?" you ask ryan and gabe with a smile before tilting your head up to will.

"he's all yours," ryan answers, chuckling as you drag will away.

he has no idea what your plan is, but he happily obliges – he will always follow along if you're the one leading him. once you reach the empty hallway leading toward the bathroom, you stop and release the grip you have on his arm. "so..." you slant your head, blinking up at him. "why did you tell charlie that i have a boyfriend?"

will's breath hitches in his throat. "i didn't. did he say i did?"

"maybe not in exactly those words," you counter, crossing your arms over your chest. "but something along the lines. did he lie?"

will doesn't answer. he doesn't know how to get out of this scot-free. he hates lying to you – not that he's sure if he's ever even been able to – so instead, he settles for remaining quiet.

"is it because you like me, smitty?"

he has to actively stop his jaw from dropping. the way the words just dropped from your mouth so casually, like they weren't flipping his world upside down, makes him speechless.

with him just staring at you, you place a hand on his shoulder, stepping the slightest bit closer. "if you do, then you should tell me," you hum, the alcohol in your system giving you that last bit of confidence you need. "and if you don't, then i'll just go away and we can pretend-"

but will doesn't want you to walk away. he doesn't want to keep pretending like he isn't in love with you, like he doesn't want you in his arms and in his room and your hands in his. he's got tunnel vision by now, and the only option he sees is grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. so that's exactly what he does.

you don't know who leans in first – it's probably the same gravitational pull affecting both of you – but it feels like this moment is exactly what you were made for. when your lips meet, will suddenly feels a ton lighter, all and any previous doubts and insecurities gone in a flash. your hand finds his chest, feeling his fluttering heartbeat beneath his shirt, and you can't help but smile against him.

"finally," you whisper once you part, but a confused frown stretches across will's features. you shake your head. "two weeks ago, you didn't want to kiss me."

"that's not true," he replied, watching you cock an eyebrow at him. "of course i wanted to. but i wasn't actually your boyfriend, but…"

"but now?"

will snickers, hands giving your sides a gentle squeeze. "now, i'd like to think that things have changed."

[luveline]

do you have anymore pregnant bombshell!reader🥹🩷😭 ilysm, please stay hydrated

—Spencer comforts you when you feel like you aren’t yourself. pregnant!reader, 1k

It’s neither hot nor cold in Maryland that day. The work isn’t particularly strenuous, just threadbare, and the team are in good spirits. You’re fed, watered, and well-rested. Spencer spent an hour before work massaging your legs while you both watched TV on the hotel couch. You should be in great spirits. 

But for some reason, you aren’t. 

You don’t know what it is. Your chest hurts, maybe. The sun is bright above you, your feet ache in your heels. You’re thinking you might have to switch to converse and match Spencer if this continues. The sidewalk clicks below you with every footstep, a little rush of confidence in the sound, but it isn’t working the same. 

You’re really not feeling well. 

You stop walking. You like to believe it takes Spencer a shorter amount of time to notice you’re stopped than he would anyone else, but his chattering fades out of hearing range for a second before he comes running back. “Hey, what?” he asks, quickly panicked. 

“What?” you ask back. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he says. “Hey, come and sit down. Let’s sit down. Here, we passed a bench.” 

Spencer leads you to a wrought iron bench, encouraging you down with two kind hands to the shoulders. The metal is cold. You try to save face, worried that he’s worried, but there’s a dull aching behind your eyes that needs a lowered head. You drop your face into your hands. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers, crouching in front of your knees. 

“Sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing your thigh. “Huh? What’s wrong, baby?” 

Spencer doesn’t use very many pet names, not half as many as you do, but when he does they pack a punch. He says it with all the tenderness of a confession, and it rolls off of his tongue as though he’s been calling you baby all your life. 

Tears well in your eyes. 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You shake your head tightly. 

“Is it a pain? Does something hurt?” 

You shake your head again. 

Spencer meets your eyes with patience. “Okay,” he says, darting up to kiss your jaw as he stands. His foot slides between yours, his one leg between yours, the other outside as he wraps an arm around you. “Tell me if I’m making it worse.” 

Your head races with tearful thoughts. You’re tired and weird and you’d needed to sit down, but Spencer being nice to you is making you wanna cry. 

“I don’t feel very well,” you say, a hot tear breaking through the hedging of your bottom lashes. 

He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, his hands swift to placate you, his cheek pressed to your hair. “It’s okay, I promise.” 

“We have to get back to the station.” 

“No, we have to stay here until we know what’s wrong.” 

“I was thinking about how my feet hurt, and everything does, and– and–” You squeeze him by the waist so he can’t leave. “Being pregnant is so hard,” you cry. 

Spencer sighs into your hair. “Oh, angel.” 

He rubs your back and administers some soft shushing as you shudder through tears. You didn’t realise it until you said it, that this awful feeling was inside, all the hormones and the fatigue. 

“I know it’s hard,” he says, “but please don’t cry.” 

“I don't like not being any good at it,” you splutter. 

“What?”

“I want this,” you say quickly, “I do, I want you and the baby and I’m so happy but I miss feeling like–” 

“Wait, nobody said anything about that.” He ducks his head down to smile at you. “I’m not stupid, I know what you want. You never do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

“I miss feeling put together. I’m not good at being me and being pregnant at the same time.” 

He takes your cheek into his hand. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not true,” he says, stroking his thumb along the line of your under-eye. 

You press your face to his chest. He keeps his hand there wedged between you, the other behind your back still. He murmurs to you softly, it’s okay, it’s alright, you don’t have to be upset, until your tears slow and your head is pounding but clearer for his touch. You hold your breath as he tips your head back, knowing you look even worse than when you’d begun. 

“I know it’s hard feeling out of control for you,” he says, voice dulcet, tone measured, “but you’re still just as perfect as the day we met. You don’t feel that way, but it’s true. And you’re so beautiful.” He couldn’t sound more in awe of you, then, his lips curled into a smile he can’t bite back. “Don’t think you aren’t. You’ve always had this aura around you and it hasn’t gone away. You walk into a room, and people just know it.” 

“Know what?” you ask, sniffling.

“That you’re amazing.” 

You can tell from his slight squint that he's aware of how saccharine a sentiment it is. You struggle to care, letting out a tired sigh as the warmth of his lips sinks into your cheek. 

“What should we do? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

“My feet hurt,” you mumble. 

You arrive at the precinct a terrible, inexcusable thirty minutes later than you’d said you’d get there, with a sweet baked good in a bag and Spencer’s converse on your aching feet. You’re smiling, to Spencer’s obvious relief. You feel better. 

“Sorry,” he apologises to Hotch. “My fault.” 

Hotch nods agreeably. “Yes, it is.” 

[emmyc0z]

heyy, love your writing sm 😙 can i request smth where in mingle, the number called is three but thanos and nam-gyu somehow get separated from reader and have someone else in the room with them and they’re slightly panicking bc they don’t know if reader is safe or not?

mingle !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : blood, drug use, talk of players dying

a/n : i probably write them so ooc but who cares. everyone lives through mingle, including gyeongsu and there’s no bad blood between minsu and semi after the game !

the two of them are obviously high, they’re fucking around dancing around you to the childish music. they’re attention isn’t fully on you for the very FIRST time since you joined their group. and you don’t know how the two of them are so uncaring about the amount of people that have died.

you’re on high alert, if a number like two is called you only have so much time to find someone else because you know namgyu and thanos will grab each other. (even if they feel bad about it later, but they are guys in the end and it’s a bros before hoes world)

if it’s four, five or even six you have semi, minsu, and gyeongsu. as long as your group stays together then everything will be fine. your hands shake despite the reassuring thought.

when the number three is called, relief floods your body and you know that you’re life is secure in the hands of the two men who swore to stay by your side whether you wanted them to or not.

but when you turn your head, they’re already running. their hands wrapped around the wrists of someone else.

and all you can do is stand there, staring at the sight, dread filling your body. frantically looking around, but feet stuck in place.

you think you’re life is already over but your wrist is suddenly pulled, feet moving on their own as you follow behind your saviour. when you reach the room you realize you’re with semi and minsu.

instantly you’re hugging them, thanking them, sobbing into the fabric of their jumpsuits because you genuinely thought your life was over.

and maybe the thought of the two men leaving you behind has you a little more than upset.

but it’s just like you thought, you’re group stayed together and everything worked out well. as long as thanos, namgyu and gyeongsu made it into a room themselves.

in a room a few doors down, the two men are beginning to experience a similar sense of dread realizing that the person they thought was you is actually gyeongsu. and of course they’re glad he’s alive, but where were you?

they’re at each others throats in an instant. the loud countdown outside of the room making them both nauseous as they point fingers and throw blame at eachother.

thanos rushes towards the peephole, frantically looking out as he calls your name. his emotions are so heightened, and he wants everything to feel like a big joke like it normally does, but his pulse is racing. he can’t see you anywhere.

and namgyu is shouting, pushing thanos away from the door in a frenzy as he looks out the same way. beads of sweat rolling down his temple as his eyes flick side to side.

you must have made it in a room right? you’re no where to be seen. but there is so many people desperately running around in search of an open room how can they be sure.

namgyu would chew on his already short nails as they return from the game. eyes scanning around.

thanos is twitching uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders to try and maintain his nonchalantness but his hands are shaking.

and as soon as you walk through that door, nervously chatting with semi, the two men are on you.

thanos is pulling you into an aggressive hug, moving back just far enough that he can still rest his hands on your arms, shaking you around.

namgyu would come up behind you, grabbing at your shoulders and squeezing them. to anyone else it might look like he’s trying to comfort you but you actually think it’s meantfor him, his fingers pressed into you through the fabric of your jumpsuit.

you just stare at them. hurt, confused, still processing how many people just died in front of you and how you were almost one of them.

namgyu would rest his chin on your shoulder, arms taking thanos spot on your arms from behind you as thanos steps back to explain what happened. and he’s so animated, head bouncing around hands flying.

“bro! i totally thought we were holding you, like you were right behind us i swear! and then we get to the room and we actually had gyeongsu! man, i was so pissed that we grabbed that idiot instead of you! no offence gyeongsu”

and from the side, right by your ear namgyu’s rattling out a similar excuse. hands rubbing up and down your arms now as he looks at thanos to confirm his story.

they must be coming down from a high because the two of them genuinely look and sound so guilty (in their own way) and scared (again, to the best of their ability while high) that it has YOU feeling guilty that you weren’t paying more attention.

so you’re accepting their apology, hugging them both and saying it’s okay because all three of you are alive, reassuring them that you’re all gonna get out of here with a shit ton of cash!

they’re both popping another pill when the mood has simmered, both denying and shaking off the fact that they we’re worried when semi pokes fun at the two of them.

we all know namgyu doesn’t like her to begin with, so she’s just fuelling the fire. he’s not acting on it yet though because you’re sitting beside him, alive, and he can’t think about anything else.

thanos is feeling a similar way. even if he was an easily perturbed man, which he isn’t usually (let’s not talking about how he interacts with player 333), he wouldn’t be paying any attention to semi. he’s engrossed in the sight that is you, hair stuck to your sweat dampened skin and face covered in splatters of blood.

[vamptarot]

Why God Loves You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ before we start I would like to say that this pick a card was made for those who were made to believe that God doesn’t love them, or that their existence is a sin. so if anyone wishes to complain about ‘oh but what if I have different beliefs’ then please simply consider that this pick a card is not for you. I am making it for those who were unjustly hurt. not proof read.

pile one : - coffee stain !

𐙚 : judgment reversed, ace of wands reversed, hermit reversed, two of swords, the devil

bottom of the deck: ace of cups

♡ ⢷why He loves you

You are genuinely not a judgemental person, at all. Even if someone is judged by the masses you are someone that does the ‘investigation’ of the situation yourself and then decide if the person actually deserves to be hated or not.

Even when it comes to unconventional things that other people would judge for, you simply do not. You always do your best to understand where the other person is coming from, and most importantly what are they going through. Especially emotionally, you try to see it from their perspective and not from someone that’s an outsider perspective in that situation, whatever it might be. That only comes second, third and so on. You are just someone very nurturing and smart, a person who walks their own way of clarity rather than blindly following the masses.

You are someone that is hard to influence, but rather than this making you unfriendly, it has the opposite effect on you. This quality of yours makes you very friendly and makes people have trust in you.

You are mature and can meet good people because you don’t let judgement fall in the way of you making good connections. Rather, you aim to understand everyone as much as possible.

You are also someone that is very responsible. When you make mistakes rather than running away from them and denying what had happened in the past you stand on your feet and strive to make it right. To create a better future.

This is something that is very honourable about you, something that is admirable.

♡ ⢷personal message

You don’t have to be religious in order to follow the words of God or what’s in your heart. Neither do you have to be religious in order to be considered a good person.

You are just you, and that’s enough.

You are good as you are, with your flaws, with your strengths and with your history. Don’t feel like you have to put on a show in order to be accepted. By this, I just mean that your existence is not a sin. What happened to you in the past is not a sin either, and don’t shame yourself for your normal human desires. Especially if you know it’s not your fault.

‘Picture perfect’ is picture perfect exactly because it’s not reality. Consider it an illusion if you wish.

— ✮⋆˙ someone in this pile is biologically a guy! , hey ya! - outkast , used to be a player , plush animals , bells , bunnies , wooden house , unfortunate childhood , growing up in poverty and actually managing to have a better life , nose bleeds , pink glittery food ? , hate for ants

my beautiful pile one please know that your intrusive thoughts are not you and I see all your efforts to be the best possible version of yourself, to treat yourself and humans with love and respect. you are pretty cool, please don’t beat yourself up. don’t blame yourself for the way other people have hurt you. I am also so sorry if your pile sounds a bit messy, I wrote it at 2AM. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile two : - a letter !

𐙚 : the lovers reversed, five of cups reversed, ten of swords reversed, ace of wands, the hermit, two of cups

bottom of the deck: the star & the empress reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

In the past you have made some pretty bad choices. I am not judging, because who didn’t? These could be things that you aren’t necessarily proud of and that you know hurt people. At that time, you didn’t have people’s best interest at heart. You didn’t even care much for it even.

The thing is, this changed. You changed it, without anyone having to tell you to.

You changed it because you didn’t enjoy the person you have become. All by yourself. God, and your guides for that matter, are very very proud of you for that. It could feel a bit unreal to hear that, but regardless, you are reading this pick a card for a reason.

Regardless, you made such a huge progress and became someone that you can be proud of. You are doing so well, there is nothing left but to praise you for how far you have become.

There was genuinely such a huge tower moment in your life which helped you become the person that you are today, one that helped you evolve and have people’s best interest in your heart. Not from a people pleasing stand point either, rather, you look at everyone as human and as crazy as it might sound this isn’t a quality many people have.

Rather than seeing people as strangers, obstacles or just an option to pass time with you have become much more empathetic and have way more emotional depth than what you used to have.

This has helped you and other people heal as well, it’s truly adorable. You have every right to be proud of yourself!

♡ ⢷personal message

The past is the past and the present is the present.

People change and this includes you. Don’t give yourself a hard time over things that no longer matter, or no longer can he helped.

Today, you are a just, wonderful and kind person. Someone that gives their all in everything they do, someone who does things with all their might. A person that is doing their best, every single day, even at times where they don’t want to. - It’s not the bare minimum, this is a very wholesome and just thing of you to do. Don’t under-appreciate your own efforts in life. You are doing so much, while getting so little and you are so strong for continuing to stand even though you feel like giving up at times.

You are doing so well, and I hope you will be able to see that.

— ✮⋆˙ zuko from atla , mha , break stuff - limp bizkits , smiley - yena ft bibi , ear ringing , silver jewellery , crying at night ? , porcelain dolls , grandma , beauty and the beast rose , swarovski princess dolls , blood , red lip tint , being distracted , recently finding out something important about yourself

bad people don’t worry about being bad. I know impostor syndrome can be hard, but you are doing so well! the past doesn’t define you but your efforts of self improvement do! thank you for reading. 🫶🏻

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile three : - the sea !

𐙚 : knight of wands reversed, the devil, three of swords reversed, nine of pentacles reversed, seven of swords reversed, ace of swords, ten of swords

bottom of the deck: queen of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

Alright my beautiful pile three, I see your struggles. You have happened to be born into and grow up in an environment that doesn’t serve you any right. One that doesn’t align with your soul and keeps making you go through hardships.

Your family members are not necessarily people who always have your best interest at heart, and even if they do they don’t always succeed in showing you that.

They are much different from you, and even though you don’t necessarily deem yourself as perfect you know they are at times toxic even if they try to include you in things, try to make you feel good in your skin and so on. You, essentially are the black sheep of your family. Not because you try to stand out, not because you cause trouble on purpose but because you try to not make the mistakes that they do.

Being born into a family which you can love is a privilege, and I do think you got to understand that from a very young age even if not everyone in this pile hates their family you don’t always like them despite loving them. - Ironic, that could be something that people who chose this pile heard growing up. -

So, at many times you have felt lonely.

Despite this, you are doing your best. Some of you were at times severely mistreated, tricked into things or perhaps share wounds you genuinely never want to open up about.

Regardless of this, you don’t seek revenge. You don’t aim to hurt people. If you dislike someone you keep your distance, and focus on your own life.

On having good goals, good morals, being kind to strangers, being kind to family and being a good person overall.

Sure, sometimes you do get annoyed, quite a lot at times even, but you do your best to not react out of harsh and negative emotions, to not lash out on people. You know how it feels and don’t wish to inflict such negative kinds of emotions on people. So everyday, you do your best to don’t.

♡ ⢷personal message

Your surroundings don’t define you as a person, being the one to stand out doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.

Sometimes you are just meant to stand out, to create differences, to be the foundation for a better future.

For yourself and those who are important to you.

If you can’t be, that’s fine. The world doesn’t rely on you, don’t overwhelm yourself if you believe that you deserve better. The world is give and take, you cannot just give and give and give without receiving anything back.

Being a giver is alright, and having a forgiving heart is beautiful, but you cannot sacrifice your well being just to please people.

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight one of your girls tonight’ , apple watch , an actual apple , lana del rey , ‘back to black’ , late night talks , ‘bye guys! hi ladies!’ , soobin from txt , dipper pines , weird food combos - peanut butter with pickles … ? whatever makes you feel happy my pile 3 - , back scratching , long nails , poverty , gangs (?)

I can definitely resonate with you my beautiful pile three, please just know that beautiful things await you. Like genuinely, you will have so many good things in life which you didn’t even previously think about or consider before. I hope you will be able to find so much happiness my little lamb. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

[mirrored-muse]

ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴜʀ | ᴊ.ᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1410

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ɪᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴜᴍᴍᴍ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ? ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ-ɪꜱʜ. ᴀᴜ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴋɪᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴅɪᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴇᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ (ᴛʀᴀᴠɪꜱ).

You hear the front door slam before you see her go.

Jackie’s footsteps crunch hard against the ground outside, fast and furious like she’s trying to outrun the mess left behind in the cabin. For a second, no one moves. The air inside feels thick, the tension still lingering. Shauna stands there frozen like she didn’t just detonate her oldest friendship in front of the whole team. Finally, Mari exhales, sighing like it hurts.

You shove your arms into your coat pockets and head towards the door, following her.

Nobody stops you. They all know better by now. You’ve made it your job to keep Jackie out of harm's way, even if she acts like she doesn’t need anyone. Especially now. You’ve always been able to tell when she’s just being dramatic and when something actually matters. And that? That was real.

You find her not far from the cabin, breath fogging in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself like they’re all she has left. She’s staring at the meat shed. Not moving. Just looking at it. Like she’s deciding whether it’s worth hiding in or if she should just keep walking and never stop.

When you step beside her, she doesn’t flinch.

She doesn’t look at you. Just mutters, low and even, “I can’t be in there with her.”

You nod, “You don’t have to be.”

Jackie turns toward the shed without another word and walks in like the wind’s pushing her toward it. You follow close behind, grabbing the door so it doesn’t slam shut on you both. It’s dark inside. Freezing. Your fingers are already starting to go numb. But none of that matters right now.

Jackie sinks to the floor near the back wall and pulls her knees up to her chest. Her whole body folds in on itself like she’s trying to disappear. You stand there for a second, unsure if she wants space or if she’s just trying not to break in front of someone. Then she speaks.

“She’s pregnant.”

It sounds like she doesn’t believe it, even though she’s the one who said it. You lower yourself to the ground, sitting a few feet away. Letting her have the silence if she wants it.

“With Jeff’s baby,” Jackie spits. “Of all people. My boyfriend. And she— she just kept it from me and lied. Like I wouldn’t find out. Like I’m some idiot.”

Her voice shakes on the last word.

“She said she didn’t want to tell me because she loved me. Like that makes it okay. Like it’s supposed to help.”

You stay quiet. Let her rant. She needs to say it out loud. Needs to rip it out of herself before it festers and starts eating her alive from the inside.

“I don’t even know who she is anymore,” she says. “I keep thinking about how she looked at me in there. All guilty and soft and pathetic. Like I’m supposed to feel bad for her. Like I did something wrong.”

You look at her. Her eyes are glassy now, but she’s doing that thing, clenching her jaw so tight she might chip a tooth, trying not to let anything fall. Jackie Taylor doesn’t cry in front of people, not unless she wants them to see it. And she doesn’t want you to. She doesn’t want to feel pitied.

But she looks like she’s seconds from breaking.

“I hate her,” she mutters. “But I don’t. And that’s what pisses me off the most. I know I’m gonna forgive her eventually. I always do. And that makes me feel like the stupidest person alive.”

You scoot closer. Not too fast. Just enough that your knee brushes against hers. “It doesn’t make you stupid.”

She scoffs. “Oh yeah? What does it make me?”

“Human. Kind.”

Jackie laughs, but it’s not her usual light-hearted laugh, the one that makes your heart feel like it’s dropped into your stomach. This one is bitter and dry.

“Right. That’s me. Jackie Taylor, a total sweetheart.”

You let the sarcasm roll off. She’s hurting too much to believe anything good about herself right now. You’re used to that, how mean she gets when she’s scared. How sharp she can be when she feels exposed.

But you’re not scared of her.

And maybe that’s why she lets you in. You don’t ask, you just do it. Wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her in with the slow kind of confidence that says ‘I’m not going anywhere’.

She stiffens. For half a second, you think she might shove you off.

But she doesn’t.

She sinks into it, slow and silent, like a tree collapsing onto the forest floor. She leans against your chest, arms still folded tight across her stomach, face turned into your shoulder like she’s ashamed of needing comfort.

You hold her tighter and tuck your chin against the crown of her head. Breathing her in.

“I don’t know who I am without her,” Jackie whispers after a long time. “I spent so much time being half of something. Best friends. Jeff and me. Everything was perfect and now it’s all just… gone.”

“You’re still you,” you murmur. “Even if she’s not next to you.”

Her voice shakes. “What if I don’t like who that is?”

You close your eyes for a second. The air is too cold to be comforting, but somehow you don’t feel it anymore. Not with her pressed against you. Not when you’re so focused on keeping her in one piece.

“I do,” you say quietly.

She doesn’t respond. Just curls in tighter, like she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear into your jacket. Her breath hitches once, twice. You can feel it in your chest when she finally lets go.

No sobbing. No noise. Just quiet, shuddering breaths as she cries against you, trying not to let the tears fall, even though it’s too late. Her face is hot and wet through the sleeve of your shirt.

You don’t say anything else. Just rock her a little. Keep your arms around her Like you’re her only source of safety and warmth.

After a while, her breathing evens out. Her body stops trembling. But she doesn’t move away.

You shift so that you’re both leaning back against the wall, your coat half draped over her. It’s not warm, not really, but it’s enough to keep you both from freezing. She stays tucked into your side, legs tangled with yours, one arm still looped around your ribs.

It’s quiet in the meat shed. The wind whistling faintly outside. Somewhere far off, you think you hear a branch crack.

Neither of you say anything.

Eventually, Jackie falls asleep like that.

You feel the weight of her head get heavier on your chest, and her breathing gradually slows. You don’t move. You don’t sleep either, not really. Just drift with her, warm and still but present, keeping watch.

And maybe it’s stupid, but for the first time in days, your heartbeat doesn’t feel like it’s clawing its way through your chest. You’re still out here. Still stranded in the middle of nowhere, but Jackie’s with you. Jackie’s okay. And somehow, that makes everything feel bearable like you can survive as long as you’re together.

When the sky starts to lighten, you finally open your eyes.

The meat shed door is still shut tight, but the light filters in through the cracks, soft and cold.

You gently shift her off of you, and Jackie stirs, blinking blearily like she forgot where she was. Her face is puffy and tinted pink around her eyes. She yawns, wipes at her cheeks, then glances toward the door.

“Did it snow?” she asks hoarsely.

You stand and crack the door open.

The ground is covered in white.

Thick, fresh snow blankets everything, soft, silent, and untouched. The trees drip with frost.

You glance back at her and nod. “Yeah. A lot.”

She groans softly and slumps against the wall. “Great. Now we’re snowed in the meat shed. Just kill me.”

You smile a little and offer her your hand. “Come on. I’ll help you back.”

She hesitates. Then, slowly, she reaches out and takes it.

Her fingers are cold, chiller bone-deep, but they find yours, threading through on instinct. And when she squeezes, it’s not hard or desperate, just steady. Grateful even. Like she doesn’t know how to say thank you out loud, but hopes this is enough.

[writinginatree]

Paul x reader - Vampires Will Never Hurt You

Summary: Paul reveals his true nature to you when he has to save you from an attacker, and immediately panics about how you'll react.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood & murder

Santa Carla is not a safe place to walk alone at night, everyone knows that. You have never felt particularly unsafe being out late despite that, used to the night life thanks to your boyfriend and his brothers, who have the worst sleeping rhythm imaginable and a bad enough reputation to scare off any possible threats, but now, as you walk along the beach to where you're supposed to meet Paul, a chill creeps down your spine.

You fight the urge to look back over your shoulder again. The surf nazi that has been following you since the boardwalk will still be there if you look, you're sure, and you're not willing to let him see how much he's scaring you.

You've almost reached the meeting spot, and the sun is just disappearing into the ocean, which means you're right on time. Paul will be there any moment.

You cling to that thought, walking faster.

Only a small rise of the ground separates you from where you hope Paul is already waiting, when the sound of footsteps alerts you to the fact that the distance to your pursuer is growing ever smaller.

No amount of telling yourself you'll be safe with Paul in just a minute can help against the feeling that a hand will close around the back of your neck any moment. You try to just keep walking, but the tension becomes too much. You need to know what to expect, what your pursuer is up to, so you whirl around to face him, wishing you had some kind of weapon in case you have to defend yourself.

The shock of just how close he is has you staggering a step backwards, your own galloping heartbeat drowning out all other sounds as a glinting switchblade appears in his hand. In the falling darkness, you can just barely make out the surfer's cruel features, crazed hatred shining in his eyes. The conflict between Paul's group and these people is nothing new — anyone who spends enough time on the boardwalk can witness it — but now you realize with growing terror that you may have underestimated just how far it goes. This guy is fully prepared to kill you just to get to Paul.

He says as much, crossing the remaining distance between you with two huge steps as you stand frozen in fear.

Scream. You should scream. If Paul is already close-by — and he should be, if he's on time — he'll hear and come help you. But you can't seem to make a sound, or move at all.

Your eyes are glued to the knife. That's your mistake, because he doesn't use it yet. Instead his free hand grabs for your throat.

Finally breaking from your stupor, you jump back with a yelp.

Now he does lift the knife, and as you lift your arms in a weak attempt to protect yourself, you promise yourself to learn some self-defense techniques if you live to see the morning.

He's almost upon you when a blur of movement behind the attacker catches your eye. Looking over his shoulder, you recognize the blond mess of your boyfriend's hair, but his face is different — all glowing eyes and sharp teeth. He rips the surfer away from you, moving so fast your eyes can barely follow the movement. All you can see is flailing limbs and spurting blood, and the next thing you know, there's a body laying at your feet, the whole thing over before you can even begin to comprehend what happened.

When Paul turns around to you, his face looks just like always. If it wasn't for the blood smeared all over his face and the disfigured corpse sprawled on the sand, you might be inclined to think you had only imagined it.

Shock keeps you frozen in place, too stunned to say anything — not that you have to, what with Paul rushing to your side, his hands digging into your shoulders as his panicked gaze roams your form for any injuries. His voice trembles as he asks if you're alright, at which you manage a silent nod.

By the time Paul has assured himself you're unharmed, you have finally regained enough of your composure to ask him what the fuck just happened. He only now seems to realize what he just let you witness, that he revealed what you assume was supposed to remain a well-protected secret. Fresh panic flares in his eyes, and for a moment you wonder if he'll kill you now. Whatever just went on with him, can he risk letting you get away and potentially giving him away to others? Ha! As if anyone would believe you if you told them what you just saw. Besides, he went berserk to protect you.

That thought gives you the courage to touch Paul — who is staring at you with that look that you know means there's a hundred thoughts racing through his head at once — on his arm, and ask again. "Paul, what was that? You— You killed that guy. And your face—"

You're not sure what else to say.

Neither is Paul, it seems. He winces, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. Twice he starts a sentence and breaks off after the first word, frustratedly shaking his head. "I'm a vampire," he finally blurts out, words coming out so fast he stumbles over them. "Me and the boys all are. This— this isn't how I wanted you to find out but I— that guy— I just had to protect you."

For a moment, you can only stare at him, wide-eyed and unmoving as your brain tries to process that information. Vampire. A fucking vampire?

"You... are a vampire," you repeat. It's not really a question — you understood his words perfectly well, and you know what you saw. After that, it's easy enough to believe, also explaining why you only ever get to see Paul and his brothers at night. Even so, the word gives you the unreasonable urge to laugh as you can't help but imagine Paul as one of the little bloodsuckers from a cartoon you used to watch. As you just witnessed, real vampires are nothing like the ones they show on the TV for children, and the lingering smell of blood in the air makes it easy to bite down the threatening laugh, but a feeling of unreality remains. The fact that vampires exist would have been enough of a shock on it's own, but that Paul of all people is one... You're not really sure how to cope with that.

How the hell is one supposed to react when finding out one's boyfriend is secretly a vampire?! Should you be scared? You suppose any sane person would be, when faced with such a bloodthirsty killer. But... bloodsucker or not, it's still Paul. Your sweet, dorky, chaotic and extremely loving Paulie. You just can't bring yourself to see him as a monster, even as you watch the blood continue to drip from his chin. He killed the surfer, sure, but he did that to save you. He wouldn't hurt you, right?

While all these thoughts race through your head, Paul nods and rushes to explain that he doesn't pose any danger to you. You barely listen. You aren't scared of him, you realize. A little disturbed, sure. The events of the last few minutes are too strange and horrifying to really think about without losing your mind, but you know in your bones that Paul would never harm you.

Coming to this realization, you take his bloodstained hand in yours and interrupt his rambling. "I know. I know you're not dangerous to me. I love you, even if you're a vampire — which I'll definitely need some time to wrap my head around, but—"

You're interrupted as Paul breathes a huge sigh of relief and pulls you into his arms, which you're pretty sure he's only held back from doing before because he was scared of scaring you. You hug back, bringing one hand up to pet his hair when you feel him trembling.

"It's okay, Paul. I'm okay. Everything's okay."

When he can finally bring himself to pull away from the hug, Paul tries to give you a kiss, but you quickly take a step back, immediately feeling bad about the hurt look on his face.

"Nuh-uh, I'm sorry, but I'm not kissing you when you have blood on your mouth," you say nonetheless, putting a hand on his chest to keep him at distance.

"Oh c'mon," he whines. "Please, babe!"

The little pout on his lips and the puppy-eyes he's giving you make it almost impossible to resist, and so with a sigh you pull your sleeve down over your hand and use it to wipe away the worst of the blood on his face. Then you allow him to kiss you — and almost immediately regret it, when the taste of blood still clinging to his lips hits you.

You suppose you'll have to get used to it. Now that you know about Paul's true nature, seeing — and kissing — him while he's covered in blood will probably become a common occurrence, whether you like it or not.