#easy mantras for kids

[prettymummasays]

Simple Shlokas for Children: 6 Navratri Mantras for Strength and Success

Chanting shlokas holds great significance, especially for children. This practice instills important values and virtues in young minds, enhancing their memory and concentration. The rhythmic nature of simple shlokas for children helps train the mind to focus, thereby developing cognitive skills and boosting academic performance. Moreover, shlokas convey moral teachings of compassion and…

[dragonlights]

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[covenofagatha]

Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting

I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!

Nurtured Desires

When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering

You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive. 

But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her. 

Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you. 

Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have. 

Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage. 

You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you? 

You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.

Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile. 

Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony. 

Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching. 

But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him. 

Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?

Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth. 

But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. 

There is something especially different about today. 

It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.

But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal. 

You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don��t even hear because you’re too busy staring. 

Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more. 

You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. 

She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married. 

You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job. 

Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there. 

“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either. 

You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear. 

“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking. 

And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you. 

“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing. 

She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open. 

There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material. 

“Uh–” You have no idea what to say. 

“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else. 

“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.” 

You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her. 

She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing. 

You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes. 

“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth. 

Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief. 

“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth. 

The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care. 

You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that. 

You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk. 

You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire. 

“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.” 

Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth. 

She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot. 

You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation. 

“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher. 

She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off. 

You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.

“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair. 

“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?” 

You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were. 

“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again. 

You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more. 

When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you. 

“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.” 

“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie. 

She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.” 

There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink. 

“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue. 

[realcube]

can't stop thinking about quirk marriage au! with tenya iida.

with villains becoming stonger as the years go on, the iida family realise they will need to toughen up if they want their future generations to stand a chance at becoming decent heroes. especially after what happened to tensei.

to preserve their prestigious lineage, they arrange a quirk marriage for tenya, with a reader whose quirk is related to stamina or durability, in hopes to bear offspring who are both fast and hardy. reader comes from a poor background so they agree in exchange for money to support their family.

at first the marriage feels very much like business and tenya treats it as such; respecting you as much as he would a co-worker. which, albeit, is a lot but he doesn't care about you the way a husband should. he opens doors for you and will help you with household chores and is generally nurturing during your pregnancy, but he has no interest in sharing a bedroom or even eating dinner together. because he may be the father to your child, but he's not your friend.

it goes on like that for a while, until one day he hears you crying in your room. he's not monster, so of course he checks on you to see what the issue is, and you explain to him that you're afraid of what will happen if your child doesn't inherit a composite quirk. if you would be replaced and left to care for it on your own. he reassures you that he'd never abandon you or his child, and that the two of you could always try again. success doesn't come easy.

however, the moment of vulnerablitiy he shared with you was exactly that — a moment. afterwards, he immediately went back to being stern and distant, which contributed you putting up walls to protect your feeling from if he were to ever disappoint you again in the future. like a mantra that repeated in your mind constantly, he doesn't love you and you don't love him.

he never picked up on your increased resistance though, not until three years after the birth of your child and they began displaying signs of a fusion quirk. he turned to you, delighted, and you appeared relieved too, but he was left gawking incredulously after you said, "how lucky. thank the lord we don't need to have another child. one was hard enough."

hearing that caused his heart to drop, as he realised who he had become and the cumulative impact his behaviour has had on you. how could his own wife depise him to that extent? this question haunted him because he knew the answer, he just never had the strength to confront it before.

he had to do something to fix it, now. loving him wasn't necessary, but he needed to prove to you his worth as a father and a husband. he did his best to attend every single one of your kid's baseball games with you, he'd buy you a new bouquet of flowers every week, he'd kiss you on the cheek as a show of affection, whenever you needed a self-care day he'd arrange time-off work, he'd take the family out to the aquarium and the zoo and disneyland and wherever you pleased.

but none of it was ever enough to penetrate your rigid defences. despite his best efforts, he was left with a wife that hates him and child that may grow up to resent him. what a legecy he has paved.

one night, he is sat in bed, doing some light reading before he goes to sleep, when his child sulks into the room. they explain they had a nightmare and want to sleep in their dad's bed tonight. of course tenya agrees and usually there isn't any problems, but tonight the child continued to stir, until they requested, "can mommy sleep here too?"

tenya blinked. usually he would bend over backwards to cheer up his kid, especially as they are having sleep troubles, but this is a bit more complicated as you might be opposed to the idea. however, there was no harm in trying, so tenya sent the kid to your room to ask if it was okay with you.

and of course, you adore your child with everything you have, so if sleeping with your useless husband is what it takes to help them rest soundly, then so be it. you trudge into tenya's room and plop down on the queen-sized bed, with your beloved baby nuzzled between you two. it actually wasn't as awkward as you initially thought, and all three of you are lulled off into the serene night.

tenya woke up before you, so he was the first to realise that your child had snuck off in the middle of the night, while the two of you subconciously cuddled each other. hence, he had you wrapped in his strong arms, with your face nuzzled into his chest.

even with bedhead and a bit drool smudged on your cheek, he thought, you were still so beautiful. so much so, he couldn't help but smile and protectively tighten his grip on you. so funny too. sarcastic yet sickeningly sweet and caring.

had things been different, he wondered if the two of you would've truly been in love. he reckons so; you really are his type, and the perfect girl, which is something he's realising all too late. he blames the circumstances and wishes more than anything that the two of you could've met organically, because although he isn't the best husband, he would give anything to have been your boyfriend.

[lottiies]

SHARED MY BODY AND MY MIND WITH YOU

→ Leon broke up with you because of his emotional baggage, not wanting to drag you down into his trauma-induced misery. He didn’t usually date out of his line of work anyway, he hated himself for involving himself with someone so innocent. But when he gets a voicemail at an awfully late hour and listens to it, he nearly broke driving laws to get to your place. He still loves you, that much is certain. Your body and mind are like a second nature to him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, pwp, one sided breakup, angst, description of leon’s self guilt and sabotage, heavy mentions of marriage, centered around Leon rather than the reader, reconciliation, lovemaking–gentle sex, crying, very small religious snippet, he eats you out, unprotected p in v, implied aftercare + implication of a better future

WC: 5.3k

Note: i think…this is my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. breaking my pink blog theme with this and actually capitalizing letters um…i had to set the tone okay. i actually started working on this in january to cope with some things, but i didn’t make much progress until recently!! the title’s a lyric from the song ‘cruel world’

BOT VERSION HERE MASTERLIST

Leon has a rule: never get emotionally involved with anyone who isn’t in his line of work. The reason behind that is self-explanatory. It's too difficult to accomplish. All his baggage holds him down, and he’s always away for long periods at a time and then returns back with body aches all over and has to hibernate for a while. What does he truly have to offer?

He did it anyway.

You managed to romance him, granting him a fleeting glimpse of happiness and a chance at self-love. Lingering caresses, meaningful eye contact, soulful conversations, an audience to his jokes, the key to your heart — you gave him everything.

Breaking up with you was painful, the second it was all said and done and you were out of his sight, he broke down crying. That was what he deserved, that’s what his mind told him.

It was easy for Leon to disappear from your life, just as quick as the snap of his fingers. He was never around that much to begin with. Your efforts in reaching out to him were futile if he was halfway across the world dealing with another abrupt assignment, or if he fell back into the habit of nursing a drink in some run down bar without contacting a soul.

But no amount of alcohol could make him forget about you these days. The memories of you were too strong to be diluted.

“What about this one?” Curiosity had dripped from your question, your fingers gently feathered across the healed up scar on his left shoulder.

Leon was almost an open book when it came to you, he truly cherished honesty in any relationship, whether romantic or platonic. Guilt weighed on him for having to limit certain answers to only the surface details. It felt wrong; it felt like he was keeping secrets from you and keeping you in the dark. But it couldn’t be helped, not when you weren’t in the same line of work as him. Most of the contents of his work were confidential.

After all, at this point the two of you had only been dating for half a year. How could he burden your mind with the harsh realities of everything that wasn’t known by the general public?

The two of you were naked, tangled under the sheets. No sex or anything, simply getting familiar with each other’s bodies and exploring with gentle and cautious hands.

“1998, shot on duty.”

The memories were still fresh in his mind. People say that forgetting a traumatic event is common, people dissociate to cope and shield their brain. It was the opposite for Leon. All the screams plagued his mind like a damn mantra, no way in hell would he ever be able to forget anyone’s voice.

Either that, or his mind made up fantasies about what could’ve been between you both. Domestic bliss. Buying a house together. Shy talks about how many kids you guys wanted. The memories haunted him. He wanted it back.

He even bought a ring. A beautiful one that he was meant to display to you when he sunk onto one knee and popped the question that would hopefully bind the two of you for life. The one that he was supposed to fidget with whenever he held your hand as the two of you planned your wedding, whether it be simple, grand, or to elope.

He kept it safe even after he broke up with you, he couldn’t bear to throw it away because of the sliver of hope that maybe one day he’d still get the chance of putting it on your finger. He felt like a fool. Sometimes he opened the box up to reminisce. It tugged at his heartstrings when he saw how rough his own fingers were in comparison to the smooth metal, from his years of physical exhaustion and training. God, he wished your hands would never get all battered like his.

He thought about you so much that you were the star actress in his nightly dreams.

The worst ones were the nightmares, though. Like the one that had him turning in his sleep tonight.

It all replayed in his mind. Your facial expression when he broke up with you out of the blue — the way the smile on your face had faded into a frown, your glimmering eyes contorting into that of disheartened ones. The way you looked at him with such a concoction of emotions. The pitiful chuckle that escaped your lips along with a nervously spoken ‘what?’ Or maybe it was the prolonged silence afterwards that killed him. It felt like hours until he got a proper response from you, one that was drowned out by the drumming of his own heart and the pulse that formed in his ears.

Usually he got to the end of it, but tonight he was abruptly woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. A blessing in disguise, maybe. Regardless, he was a bit irritated, he had always been such a light sleeper.

“You’re kidding…” Leon let out a heavy sigh, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. He didn’t even want to answer, too tired to even think about the possibility of being called to the field. No way in hell did he want to be met with Hunnigan’s voice and some intel he didn’t feel like remembering.

He let the phone ring, and eventually, blissful silence filled the room again. If it was dire, he knew he’d get another call soon.

Instead, he heard his phone vibrate not long after. He muttered out a curse before reaching for his phone, seeing that a voicemail was left. He didn’t bother reading whose number it was. Christ, the message was 5:06 minutes long.

Whatever. He played it aloud, resting his forearm over his face as he listened in.

“Hey Leon, it’s me…”

Fuck.

He fully sat up on his bed, so quickly it could’ve given him whiplash.

“I miss you. Still think about you every day. I don’t know what I did wrong…you probably aren’t even listening to this. I just…I don’t know.” a sigh. “The clock hit 12 and um, well today’s the anniversary of the day you asked me out. Maybe you don’t remember. I think you do though, you were always good with dates.”

Leon knew the voice of a broken person when he heard it.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to let you go and then you’d see how much life had to offer, how any other person could give you a better and more stable relationship.

How could you be hung up on a man like him?

It was instinctual. He shuffled out of bed, body reacting before his mind and reaching for a clean pair of clothes from his closet. He left the voicemail playing in the background, it filled his lonely house. His heart was racing so loudly he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the wind outside or the creak of the floor with every step. All he did was change and brush his teeth before he drove over to you.

Thankfully, the roads were empty and the highway was free of traffic or else surely he would’ve been pulled over.

Thinking rationally wasn’t necessary when it came to you, not when he just got punched in the gut with a load of nostalgia and gut wrenching heartbreak.

He has always been yours, even during the separation. His heart hammered within his ribcage when he pulled into your driveway, his body moving in a hurry out of his car and towards your door. No hesitation.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ten seconds felt like ten minutes, but eventually the door swung open.

Your pretty face filled the focus of his pupils, his expression softening. You looked like a deer in the headlights, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Oh, my sweet girl. There she is.

His hands itched to reach for you, to hold you in his arms and spin you around, nuzzling his nose against yours like old times — like some romantic drama. He hadn’t watched one in a while, they reminded him too much of you. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Leon's hair was messy. It was a sight you had seen many times: his bed hair. Those emotion carrying eyes of his were contrasted with the lifeless bags under them. He came over so damn quickly he hadn’t even taken the time to make himself look composed.

“Leon? What are you…” You couldn’t even finish your thoughts. You felt nothing yet so much at the same time, perhaps from the shock of it all. You brought two fingers to the pulse on your neck to make sure you were awake, and hadn’t somehow fallen asleep after your call and voicemail to him. The thundering pace of your pulse confirmed that you weren’t off in dream land.

“I got your voicemail,” He responded, sounding remorseful. “Had to make sure you were alright. Uh…can I come in?”

You continued staring at him like if he was some sort of supernatural being. If you reached your hand out to touch him, would he disappear? Or perhaps your limb would go straight through him as if he was transparent.

You snapped out of it and nodded. “Yeah, come on in.” Hesitation clouded your tone, not out of wariness but because you had no clue what the hell was going on. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, at least not in person, only through photos and videos you still had saved on your phone from when the two of you were dating (going through them was part of your nightly routine.)

“To be honest…I wasn’t expecting you to even hear my message.”

You stood there awkwardly as he entered, closing the door afterwards. Your apartment still smelled the same, a wave of comfort washed over him despite the circumstances, his eyes darting around at all your belongings. This was once his safe space, like his secret haven.

You sat on your couch, waving him over. Your legs felt like jelly, no way could you be standing for this. He followed, sitting on the couch cushion on the opposite side from you.

“My ringtone woke me up. I thought you were a coworker of mine at first but…I’m glad you weren’t.”

“Glad, really?”

“Yeah.” He gave no further context, at least for that minute.

Silence hung in the air, time became still. Either way, the shared glance between the two of you broke the tension, you were both thinking the same thing. Your minds were linked, seeking reconciliation, every circuit of neurons buzzing with your shared proximity.

He rested his elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. Everything felt surreal, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, afraid he’d disappear.

“I’m…I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” There was a crack in his voice, he was so desperately clinging onto the ideology that he shouldn’t wear all his heart on his sleeve. He failed every time though, his words had wavered.

“I know.” You truly did.

“How?”

“Because I know you, Leon. It hurt, and I found myself wondering why you would just up and leave after what felt like such a meaningful time. But I didn't ever think you did it with mal intent.”

You should be demanding answers, hell, he could even take a few slaps to the face. Maybe his guilt ridden self preferred that to your sweet treatment. Did he even deserve to be met with your understanding? This self-pitying mindset he harbored is what had led to this in the first place.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.” Were his efforts in explaining himself getting across? “I thought it was better this way. I'm…broken.”

Trying to convince him that he isn’t ‘broken’ was futile, all you could do was beautify it instead. You scooted closer to him, clasping one of his hands between yours. “All you see are your faults, but I was seeing you entirely, not just for what you do in your job or the images that keep you up at night.”

His hands felt the same. Calloused in areas he couldn’t help like his knuckles and his palms, but well-kept in the nail department. He looked down at the physical contact, putting his other hand atop yours, his thumb grazing tenderly at your skin. Familiar territory.

“It’s hard not to.” He admitted, his eyes feeling glossy all of a sudden. “My job is my life, it drags into every other part of my life.”

“How did it drag into our relationship?”

He truly didn’t know how to answer that. The times he shared with you were the best experiences of his life. He finally got the chance to pull out his cardboard box full of romantic movies to watch with the lover he had been waiting for his whole life, you. Countless nights spent cooking together in your kitchen, full of laughter and playful bickering, and some harmless food fights. Grocery shopping together with laced fingers, just a sneak peek into domesticity. God, he yearned for its return.

“I don’t know. I constantly had to leave and got no vacation time either. Let’s see…I had to keep a lot of information confidential. It kinda screams ‘this’ll all make a girl run the other way.’”

How wrong he was, he ended up leaving before he could get abandoned, as if that would’ve happened, though, you never wanted him out of your life.

“That wasn’t true for me, Leon. I wanted to be with you. I just hope I wasn’t a burden on you.”

That hurt. A dull ache spread across his chest. He pulled you close, tucking you against his side.

“Don’t say that,” His instruction was soft spoken, his lips brushed against your cheek. You were never a burden, he always shut you out, thinking that his heart was full of thorns and you’d prick yourself if he let you get too close. That, perhaps his sorrow was contagious and his poison would flood your veins.

Words of comfort weren’t his strong suit, but he tried his best. He had to. “You weren’t a burden. Never were, and never will be, okay?”

It felt so good to have you against him, his gaze was set on you, searching for any indicator that you were uncomfortable. You leaned your shoulder against his shoulder though, nuzzling against him. Pensive silence followed.

Even with the somber undertones filling your apartment, your heart was bursting. He was here, back with you. Holding you like he used to do after you had a particularly stressful day at work, or when you had an argument with one of your close ones.

The long separation made familiar carnal desires spark to life, along with the itch to bring them to fruition.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You murmured to him, but your wavering voice caught his instant attention.

You were on the verge of tears, oh dear. If you started sobbing, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold back from crying either.

Leon didn’t waste a second, pulling you onto his lap, one of his hands stroking the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your back.

“What are you thinking about?” He needed to know. You had always been the most verbal, whereas his feelings usually showed on his face or body language.

“About how much I missed you.” You respond, running your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his muscles. “And how unreal this feels. And…” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. “I wanna kiss you, Leon…and y’know.” Make love. “Like old times.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?” Leon hadn’t intended for the night to play out this way. He needed to make sure you were actually thinking straight with the pool of emotions you seemed to be drowning in. To be fair, he was drowning too.

It was midnight, your bodies burned for one another.

“I am.” You uttered those words with such finality, eyes set on him.

This wasn’t some impromptu longing for his physical connection, you had been craving it for as long as the two of you had been separated. To feel him in the purest and most tender way possible, nestled against one another and eliciting feelings no one else could.

The pads of his thumbs rub circles against the fat of your hips. He's looking up at you, his eyes are unable to hide a flicker of yearning and affection. Expressive, his pupils dilated and his eyebrows slightly raised. He blinked slowly, like a cat showing utmost trust to its owner.

He looks at you like he worships you (he does.) Get him on his hands and knees, he’ll mumble your name like you’re his god and he’s praying to you, all his sins out in the open and his scarred body for you to look over and judge. He’ll be vulnerable with you if that means you’ll forgive his wrongdoings and give him a second chance. You must be a merciful god, no doubt about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You murmured, cupping his face. His gaze was hypnotic, sending a wave of security down your body. It almost felt as if you traveled to the time before he shattered your heart into pieces of glass.

“Like what?” He couldn’t help it. Not like he had a mirror, anyway. His face was usually tense, brows permanently furrowed and eyes narrowed from being attentive all the fucking time, his lips a straight line, jaw anything but relaxed.

Not right now, though. Never with you. Everything in his body softened and loosened up around you. Well, with the exception of his dick but that was another matter.

“You know what I mean. Like…like you still love me.”

Leon didn’t know what to say. The words died in his throat while every fiber of his being wanted to say ‘I do.’ The same words he could’ve voiced out standing across the altar from you. His brain short-circuited.

His pause came across as ambiguous to you, to mask the pain, you kissed him. Like a chocolate on a hot summer day, he melted in an instant, turning to mush, holding one side of your jaw and matching your pace.

The two of you mingled like two puzzle pieces. Your chest was flush against his, one of your hands finding his hair and pulling on it, earning a drawn out groan from him. It went slow for the first five minutes, some occasional pull backs for breath, shy smiles in betweens, before going back in like the act of kissing was needed for your pulses to continue, your hearts beating as one.

“Mmph.” Your whimper made him shudder, oh how he had missed that noise. His other hand got a bit more confident, resting on the small of your back, moving up towards your ribs then back down, almost resting on your ass.

He felt a surge of heat settle in his groin, aching to give you all the pleasure you deserved, to make you feel cherished and known. To knock any misery out of your head and replace it with euphoric sparks and reassurance. To be one with you again, if you’d have him.

He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open. “Bedroom?”

A nod from you was all it took. He didn’t let you get up, instead holding your ass as he stood up, his lips back on yours as he carried you to your bedroom like he owned the place. His mind still had the spatial layout, it worked out and he eventually placed you onto the middle of the bed oh so delicately.

You knew what was coming, already taking your clothes off in a haste as you heard his belt come undone, the sound of his taking his shirt off, and his boots being kicked off.

It wasn’t long until he was on you again.

Leon took his time to look at your body. He was all too familiar with it, knowing exactly where certain beauty marks were, or the places that were sensitive to even the slightest fan of his breath. His fingertips ghosted over your sides, sucking in a sharp inhale as his eyes roamed all over, studying you as if you were his muse and he was about to draw you. “So beautiful…”

His lips had traveled all across you once upon a time. Leon had a great memory, perhaps one of his best features, though also his downfall. At times like these, it comes in handy. It almost seemed like a hazy flashback to the nights he had you splayed on the bed, pressing his lips against your forehead and making it all the way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He wanted to mimic the memory. “Need to taste you. Can I?”

“God, yes.” You agreed in a heartbeat, body already feeling all tingly at the anticipation.

He littered open mouthed kisses from the middle of your chest, all the way down to your end of your stomach, making your body ignite with flames and mind flood with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. What day was it? Month? Year? You couldn’t remember, just desperately hoping this wasn’t some realistic feeling dream. You’ve had those too often, and if you woke up without him by your side, you felt like you would die from heartbreak.

He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to pull you close. His fingers dug into your thighs as he took another look at his favorite pretty cunt. He missed this. Missed you. Missed having you grind yourself against his face until he couldn’t breathe. Missed having his heart race from the angelic noises you blessed his ears with.

His nose pressed against your clit, applying light pressure as his tongue lapped at your slit, gathering the dew there. Geez, he really got right into it. Your eyes rolled back, your stomach tensing and your back arching. You could die right now by your (ex) lover’s tongue, what a way to go.

On the occasion that he opened his eyes, he’d look up at you through his light lashes — he swore you looked like an angel from his perspective.

“What is this? Your last meal on death row?” You were joking, but god…he really was making your mind go blank, he knew just all the right buttons to press.

“Oh, so you think I’m a criminal?”

Like always, you reached for his hair, pushing it back and hearing him growl out of contentment. He gave your clit gentle sucks before flattening his tongue against it and flicking it, his head moving side to side, repeating the process again and again.

One thing about Leon? He always found a way to turn you on by being vocal. His noises were muffled and sloppy but you could feel the vibration of all his whimpers and growls against you as he took his time eating you out. He was getting off to pleasuring you, and that fact alone made it so much hotter.

Your thighs were trembling, threatening to close in and squeeze his head. Leon placed one of his hands over your lower abdomen, applying light pressure with his palm and coaxing you into your orgasm.

It didn’t take you long to get there, you hadn’t felt a tongue on you in ages, he was your last.

“Leon, I’m—“

He already knew.

“That’s it, make a mess all over my face.” It sounded like a demand but instead it came across as a pitiful and desperate plea.

How many times had he been in this position? Lying on his stomach, your taste on his tongue, chin dripping with his drool and your wetness, feeling your body trembling…he couldn’t even count how many. But it was enough for him to know your body like no other.

He kept going even after your thighs started squeezing in on him, even with the way you unintentionally tugged at his hair enough to have him rutting against your sheets. He made sure to make your orgasm feel good, lapping at you all throughout until he heard a whine leave your lips and he felt you weakly push his head away — he didn’t want to overstimulate you and hurt you.

He finally took a breath, one that filled his lungs with satisfaction as he propped himself up on his elbows before sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his blood pump south with the way you were still composing yourself, your legs twitching all cutely and your torso rising and sinking with each deep breath you attempted to take.

“Do you wanna…” Your eyes flitted down to the prominent tent in his pants, feeling a stirring in your stomach already.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I mean…only if you want to.”

With his belt already in some corner of the room and his fly down, all that was left was discarding his pants and boxers down. He fished his wallet out and pulled a packet from it before doing so.

You were too distracted eyeing his now exposed dick, gulping. It had been a while. But a certain wrapper noise caught your attention. A condom. You had always been careful with him in the past, but you wanted him inside him without any barriers. To feel him entirely, his skin against your insides.

“Don’t, please?”

“But–“

“I need to feel you, Leon.”

“Already being a bad influence on me? What am I gonna do with you?” His jest was met with your roll of eyes, but the corners of your eyes crinkled, happy he was already comfortable enough to bicker a bit.

He pet your head, gazing fondly at you as he awaited your response.

“I just want to feel you as close as possible. I don't know how to explain it. You can pull out at the end…I dunno.”

You didn’t need to explain further, because he felt the same. He kissed your forehead, whispering “okay.”

Getting in between you and in position for missionary, he continued peppering kisses all over your face. He couldn’t hold back, he had so much to make up for, he owed you at least a thousand more. He pushed into you, a breathy moan leaving his lips, it felt like he had just entered the pearly gates. And the way your jaw hung open in a silent gasp told him you felt the same.

“You alright?”

“Mhm, keep going.”

“God, I missed you…” His thrusts made the bed creak, adding to the assortment of sounds of two bodies joined as one: skin against skin, high pitched gasps and occasional throaty groans, nails scratching against Leon’s back and leaving red marks in their wake, a subtle noise, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Too much. Could never get you outta my mind.” He admitted, burying his head against your neck to leave open-mouthed kisses all over, smiling when he felt you squirming. “Dreamt about you every night. Every…every morning I woke up, I thought you’d still be by my side.”

His response knocked the breath out of you, God if you could have him closer than physically possible, you would. This was the closest you’d be though, his tip hitting your g-spot, his body flush against yours, it was just the two of you in this never ending universe.

“Leon…Leon…fuck.” You called for him like you needed him to prevent you from crumbling.

He pinned one of your hands to the side of your head and laced his fingers between yours, his head remaining against your other side, raspy grunts and incoherent praises rumbling against your ear. He gently bit your earlobe, tugging at it and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite all his self doubts, Leon knew how to love, how to send another person to cloud nine and make their head fuzzy with sheer euphoria. He wasn’t fucking you, he was loving you, there’s a clear difference.

His lips trailed to your jawline, eventually reaching your lips and initiating an uncoordinated make out session, the sound of dazed out whimpers and quiet growls mixing together perfectly.

He was getting there, his pace more erratic than before, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled against your lips, speaking in between rushed pecks. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You managed to smile at that. “Yeah? Well you’re the prettiest boy in the world.”

You could’ve said handsome. Or hot. Or cute. But Leon was pretty, that was always the first thing that came to your mind. He was like a model, surely some agency would have tried to recruit him if he were actually in broad daylight more.

“Mm.” He liked the compliment. No more words were exchanged after that, he was focused on feeling you. Feeling the way you took all of him like it was nothing, clearly the two of you were physically made for one another.

There was no going back from this, Leon couldn’t bear the thought of getting a taste of happiness yet again and then falling back into a hopeless pit. He wouldn’t push you away again.

You were already sensitive from the way he had made you cum on his face earlier. You pulled away from his kisses, your head thrashing side to side against the pillow instead, your hips desperately bucking to meet his.

“Leon…”

“Just let go for me, you can do it.”

Moans ripped from your throat, your nails leaving crescent indents on his skin as your body writhed underneath him. Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you came, his own stomach feeling tighter and tighter until he followed suit.

“I love you.” He let it slip at the very end, his mind too dazed and his emotions for you running at full blast. You would’ve replied if not for the way you were in awe, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted back, his mouth let out the raspiest grunts as he pulled out and came. Fuck, he couldn’t be real.

It was only then that Leon’s head cleared. He felt his heart sink to his stomach, had he said something wrong? The moment died down, he felt uncertain about how you’d react. Regardless, Leon took a moment to admire you in your flushed state before leaning down to kiss your head, then lying down beside you and pulling you to his side.

You were all dazed with his confession lingering in your head.

He still loved you. Maybe it was obvious, but hearing it aloud was a completely different feeling.

All the suppressed emotions between the two of you were being put on the spotlight. Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, you tried to blink them away, but you failed.

Leon wished your eyes hadn’t gotten glossy and that your lips hadn’t tugged into a small frown. It made his heart physically ache. Heavy hearted, that’s what he felt like, swallowing to try to alleviate just how sore his throat felt all of a sudden. Guilt bubbled in his stomach because he knew he was the source of your tears.

He kissed away your tears, welcoming the salty taste of them.

He couldn’t tell you not to cry, he wasn’t in the position to. All he could do was reassure you instead, curling his hand into a fist before rubbing soothing circles onto your back as he watched you curl against him.

“Hey…”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to start crying. I just…you still love me? Did you mean that?”

“It’s okay. Just let it out, I'm here for you.” He had your head tucked underneath his chin. “And yeah…I never stopped.”

“I love you too.”

He wasn’t leaving this time.

Maybe that ring he held onto would find its true owner soon.

You, his sweet girl.

[charnelhouse]

teacups

pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader rating: mature word count: 2.5k+ summary: Joel and you take a shower after a traumatic event. warnings: srs hurt/comfort. violence/gore. implied attempted sexual assault. trauma. panic attack. joel being too nice. A/N: same reader as the one in bad people and moments, but no need to read. Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel wondered if his luck had finally run out. His hand slid along the slippery kitchen floor as the man on top of him snarled. Joel was pinned in a way where he couldn't get a full breath in. He'd been an idiot, relying on threadbare information passed between smugglers. 

"You know that real nice house outside the wall? Only bout half a mile South? Apparently, it's empty. The guys livin' there got taken care of during a raid. A lot of shit probably left inside. Well hidden. I'll pay you to see what you can find."

Joel hadn't thought it'd be that dangerous. He needed a second pair of hands, and everything had been fine until three of the supposedly dead men had walked in on them, rifling through their shit.

"Fuck. Fuck," Joel hissed between clenched teeth as he attempted to reach for the knife that had been kicked out of his grasp. The man's arm around his throat tightened. 

Joel felt his vision tilt, his body shuddering forward. Everything was fluctuating between spots of bright yellow to deep gray. He wasn't scared for himself, but he was for her. She'd been taken into the next room. He could hear her screaming-

No-she was shrieking. Painful, warbling, animalistic noises that only rang out from people cornered without options. Joel knew them well. He'd caused them. 

His jaw clenched as she wailed, a tempest of sound that destabilized him. It cut him straight to the bone, and his head was galloping a mile a minute: no, no, no, no.

Beneath that mantra was something more explicit. Not her. Not her. Christ-not her. 

He swore he heard her shout his name. Beg: Joel. Joel. Please. 

Okay. Okay, honey. 

He went blind-white with a rage he hadn't felt in a long damn time. Despite his lack of oxygen, he braced his hands and knocked his head back. The guy yelled, loosened just enough that Joel shot forward and snatched the knife. He lifted his arm and flung the blade back, making contact with something squishy that gave under the sharp tip. Eye, he guessed, especially by how loudly the bastard was hollering. Joel whirled around to find him holding his face, blood squeezing through the creases in his knuckles. The handle trembling between fingers.

Joel jumped to his feet, jerking the knife out before driving it forward once, twice, and then a third time. He couldn't waste a second, so he jabbed the vulnerable areas. The man gurgled, frantically attempting to stem the injuries before abruptly collapsing. He’d bleed out.

Joel!

His name rocked through his head, and how much time had he just wasted? What if they'd hurt her past the point he couldn't help her? 

He ran.

***

Joel's hands were pulsing with his own heartbeat, dribbling blood from the violence of using a knife. Stabbing was a tricky business.

Joel.

As he tore through the house, he shouted her name, hoping it would comfort her to know he was coming. He'd been a fool to take her outside the walls of the QZ with only two guns and not sufficient information.

But-fuck-she'd handled herself before. 

He hadn't forgotten the night she'd taken out the three people who had killed her boyfriend. Luke had been a good man. A benevolent leader. When he’d been murdered, Joel hadn't exactly cared since he was focused on his own shit. Death had been normal. Loss was easy. Luke had been another name whispered through the channels of QZ communication.

But he did remember her.

Dolly.

It's what most of the community called her because she had a lovely, rich voice and sang a lot of Dolly Parton to help the kids sleep. 

Then, she went briefly insane. A switch flipped when she found Luke ripped and shredded with his guts out. She'd taken it in stride, seemingly calm and collected, as she wrapped his body and brought him to be burned. She'd then asked around, discovered where the three who'd done it were sleeping, and slaughtered them with a Ka-Bar.

Yes-the QZ's homecoming queen walked out of the woods covered in blood, and no one said a word. It was swept under the rug just like everything else, and who was going to complain about losing three assholes who'd murdered a decent guy for a couple ration cards and supplies?

The community had liked Luke. Respected him. 

Joel, admittedly, found the man foolish. Back then, he hadn't given Luke his attention, but once he started fucking his girlfriend, he mulled over his encounters with the blonde jock like he was studying a map. Who was he to her? How much had she liked him? How had he fucked her, pleasured her, made her smile? 

There was the tiniest piece of Joel that felt jealous. Luke was dead, but he still haunted her just like Joel's ghosts plagued him. 

Selfishly, he wanted her rage-her stunning wrath. The idea of that girl carving three people up to avenge his death was a strange, exhilarating image for him. 

In truth, Joel was deeply fucking attracted to her. Dolly. 

What had she said that night as they sheltered from the rain? The first time they'd had sex, and they both had been blind drunk. 

"He was an idiot.

"He still operated as if the rules hadn't changed. He didn't understand that you have to be a bad person to survive here. He trusted too easily. Far too empathetic for his own good." 

Joel never told her, but those words had lit a fire in him. That had been the moment he’d realized she wasn't just some sweet, pleasant angel who sang to kids. She was all teeth. She was smart-

She was still screaming. 

Joel sprinted, barreling through the final door into the dining room before he abruptly slid to a stop. He was puzzled at the scene before him. He couldn’t figure out what he was seeing.

Blood. Dark, viscous as syrup. It was all over the floors. There was arterial spray covering the pale, peeling wallpaper. Dolly was straddling one of the men, bringing her arms up and down in brutal strikes. Joel could hear the squelch of tissue. The creak of the wooden floor under her knees. She had stopped yelling at some point and now was breathing heavily-grunting low and rough. Across the room was the third guy, very obviously dead. 

Joel moved steadily toward her, calling her name softly. She wasn't hearing him, and he realized her sleeves were drenched in blood up to the shoulder. The silver of the knife continued to disappear into the purple-pink mess of the man's belly. His eyes were open and unseeing, mouth parted in shock.

"Dolly," he tried. Nothing. 

"Sweetheart." Nothing.

Finally, he lunged and seized her wrist. She yelped as the knife flew from her hand and skated across the floor. She struggled in his grip, making wet, hiccuping noises when she attempted to wrench herself from him.

"No," she spat. “No-no-no-”

Carefully, he pulled her off the man and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He shoved the side of his face against hers. She was twitching in his hold, shaking furiously. Her teeth clicked, her body taut with adrenaline. "Focus," he coaxed. "You focus for me, now."

She choked and sputtered. She attempted to crawl away, but Joel had her locked against him. Her heart was vibrating in her chest, thumping with the same fury as a battering ram. Joel scanned the room, fully digesting the utter devastation she had caused. Wordlessly, he turned her toward the paintings hanging on the walls. Gold-framed watercolors. It was something nicer, at least. 

"Look at that," he murmured.

She moaned, pushing against him. 

He waited.

***

"Joel," she gasped as if finally coming up for air. She was bending forward, nearly falling, and he latched to her back possessively.

Protectively. 

"Yeah?" His cheek was still glued to hers, his beard scraping her jaw. Both of them were slick with sweat. If he moved his head just right, he'd be able to kiss her, but it wasn't the time. Initiating something sexual seemed like bad form after whatever had gone down.

"Joel," she repeated, and he cleared his throat. Her thin, weary voice worried him.

"You're alright," he assured her. "They're all dead."

She said nothing, so he let her go lax in his arms. He studied the walls and the chandelier. He tried to count her heartbeats but found it challenging when the room stank of copper and viscera. The real stench of death.

Suddenly, she lurched in his arms.

"Teacups." She pointed to the white cabinet-so dusty it could be gray.

"Yes," he agreed slowly, puzzled. 

"Teacups," she muttered before it bloomed into a laugh that was verging on hysterical. "We should take them home." She turned, fingers caught in the opening of his shirt, tugging down like she was attempting to climb him. "Would be nice, you know? Have something pretty."

He grimaced, readjusting his stance, crouching lower to the point that his knees creaked and pain shot through his thighs. He ignored it and grasped her face, tilting it toward the delicate stream of moonlight. "Look at me," he ordered firmly. "Look at me, honey."

She did, her eyes flickering from the floral-stamped teacups to his face. She appeared gone-blood, tears and tears smeared across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was even wet with it. A disturbing memory infiltrated his head: Sarah's artwork that used to hang on their fridge. Finger-paints. Lots of red and pink. He swallowed before licking his lips. 

"Is this blood all theirs?" He asked, gesturing to her clothes. He was pissed at himself for not checking her sooner, but he figured calming her down had been the most necessary action. 

She lifted her shoulders before dropping them. She had gone somewhere else. Shit.

Gingerly, he maneuvered her into his arms to carry her up the stairs. He needed to clean her and wipe away the remnants of tonight’s mistakes. His mistakes.

***

"Get in the shower," he instructed, but she wasn't moving. He sighed, tenser now. He figured a hot shower would have excited her. A luxury neither of them had had in months, maybe longer. Joel frowned and scraped a hand over his face. 

She'd killed before, so he wasn't sure what this was? She seemed broken. Carefully, he reached for the hem of her jeans only to find her belt gone. He inhaled sharply as he began to scrutinize the rest of her outfit. He'd assumed things had gotten messy in the fray. Her sleeve was torn, and there was swelling along her throat. He took her face into his hands and moved it left to right, right to left. Looking closer, he realized her bra straps had been wrenched loose. Buttons missing on her shirt. When he pulled the collar to the side, he found a distinct bite mark. 

Joel cursed, jerking away instantly. She didn't flinch, only stared up at him sadly. 

He hadn’t meant to. It had been a reflex. A very poor one. He needed to try a softer approach and show her he wasn't fearful of her. He'd just been surprised. 

He reached for her again and began rubbing her shoulders. He found them cold and damp. Clammy. 

"They weren't infected." He was stating it as fact. Hoping.

She bit her lip. 

"Work with me here, baby. They weren't infected, right?"

She swallowed and shook her head. "It wasn't that." She blinked dazedly before continuing. "They tried…" she trailed off, and her eyes began to fill with tears. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, chewing hard as if she couldn't say the rest. She averted her gaze, and Joel felt sick.

"They didn't, Joel," she whispered. "They-they-"

He reacted immediately. 

Wrapping his arms around her, he hauled her body to his chest. "They tried," he confirmed. "They tried, and they didn't get close. You took care of 'em."

She broke.

She began sobbing into his shirt, muffling her mouth against the denim fabric. She was shaking, and Joel felt inadequate-completely lost. Inexplicably, he decided that this would be something Luke would most likely excel at. Kindness. Empathy. Understanding. Joel only felt nauseous. He felt ill with guilt and then had to banish the thought away, disappointed at his pettiness. She needed him, so he cupped the back of her head, using his thumb to draw tiny circles above her ear. 

After a few minutes, he spoke gently. "Do you want to shower?"

She fisted his collar, her back hitching under his hand. She was working herself up again, straying very close to a panic attack. He had to calm her down.

"I'll go in there with you," he offered. "I won't leave."

She stilled, though her shoulders continued to tremble in spurts of aftershocks. He could smell the blood on her. Rusty and metallic. 

"Okay," she agreed.

***

The shower felt good. Better than good. It was narrow and cramped, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she burrowed into Joel's naked chest, desperate to feel his skin. He had even been willing to get in fully clothed.

"You've been through a lot. I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"

"Shut up, Joel. It's fine."

The room was humid with steam, the air tinged with old blood. The shower floor had turned pink, and Joel had to detangle himself from her to search for wounds. He'd found a slit in her side, just beneath her ribs. Hardly serious, but it had to have stung. With a bar of valuable ivory soap that had been just lying on the shower step, he carefully dragged it over the injury. He crouched low, one hand holding her hip as he cleaned her. 

She said nothing as she watched him, her fingers running through his hair. Somewhere between washing her toes and beneath her breasts, he felt a strange affection for her. This was the most intimate thing they had ever done. The gentleness. The womb-like shower. The dim lights. 

 When he was done, he kissed the wound under her ribs, lips firm against velvety skin. He stood, and she regarded him with tender curiosity, her eyes far more present than they'd been ten minutes ago. He pulled her to him, his cock slightly stiffening simply because she was beautiful and molded into his frame, and his body reacted to her regardless of his intentions.

"I was scared," she confessed as the water sluiced down them, drumming the tile floor. "I was so scared they'd killed you already, and I couldn't do anything."

"I think," he said, lightly teasing. "You managed to do quite a bit."

She huffed, shoving her face into his throat, nose rooting along his jaw. She used enough force that his back hit the wall and his arms automatically rose to cradle her. He said nothing, just let her find him, use him as she needed. She'd been terrified for him even when they'd attempted to harm her. He swallowed thickly as a new wave of anger pulsed in the trenches of his marrow. He hoped one was still breathing downstairs, unable to move. Joel would make it hurt.

He felt her shift in his arms, and as she relaxed, it cooled his temper. She stood on tiptoes, her mouth running along his ear. He shivered and attempted to calm himself down-think of anything else. 

"I did it for me," she whispered. "But-but I also did it for you. I'd kill for you if I had to."

Stunned, he gripped the nape of her neck and forced her face from his throat. He pulled her eyes to his. He wanted to tell her that she'd certainly already done that. He didn't want her to have to, even if it shot heat through his bones.

"You did a hell of a job," he managed to say instead. He was drunk off the shower steam and hot water, and her breath was cool against his mouth. "You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

***

Afterward, Joel tucked her into one of the beds. She reached for him, her lids heavy and movements sluggish. He promised her he'd come back after he checked the house. He didn't kiss her, but he thought about it. Things were changing. He shook his head, interning those worries for another day. He swapped his tenderness with something easy. 

Anger.

He found outrage and clawed his fingers into its familiar texture. 

There it was. Fury and revenge were his old, perfect lovers, and he felt them as he stood outside her door. They touched him, caressed him, begging to be used.

For her. 

Joel would do this for her even if it meant nothing. Even if the damage was already done. He needed somewhere to put it. He needed somewhere to place those emotions because he certainly wouldn't take it out on her, fuck her simply for stress relief after what had happened tonight. 

"Joel?" From inside the room, her voice rang small. It distressed him. Bury that, too. 

He rested his forehead against the closed door, sighing. "Yeah?"

"Will you check if they're gone, please?"

"Of course."

***

Silently, he went downstairs, found a hammer from one of the men's belt loops, and then ruined whatever she had left still whole in the dining room. Skulls. Ribs. Bones. He crushed them all, fractured them to bits and pieces for what they had done to him and his. 

[hanjisick]

yandere!stray kids reaction to … your confession.

warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.

cw. alcohol. implied murder. stalking. kidnapping. manipulation.

bang chan.

it was late at night. he had just taken you out on an ice cream date, and now you both were lingering on the doorstep of your home, trying to make the last few moments last forever.

“i think that i might like you, no, i think this is love, chan.”

his heart raced at the confession, but he didn’t hesitate to reply.

“i love you too, y/n.”

he would go home thinking about this moment, his stomach full of nervous butterflies.

the first thing he would do is clutch the tank top that he had stolen from you in his hands, sniffing the material and thinking back to that beautiful moment.

this was all part of the plan. once you finally loved him, it would be so easy to just take you.

and that’s exactly what he planned to do.

lee know

you would’ve been minho’s girl for long before falling in love with the monster. i mean, how could you love this man? even if he was obsessed with you, to the point of being more than willing to spill blood for you, the thought of loving him was terrifying.

but slowly, through months upon months of losing your mind, it would’ve been while he was cooking dinner for the two of you.

his back was facing you as you sat on top of the counter, swinging your legs back and forth.

something about the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he measured ingredients, or the knife in his hand as he crushed the garlic.

minho caught you staring eventually. “what are you looking at, my love?”

a blush dusted across your cheeks. “you look handsome like this.”

his chopping halted. it would’ve been the first time that you’ve seen him truly flustered since meeting him. “i do?”

“i think i love you.”

changbin

it would be hard to not fall for the only man that you were ever allowed to see.

every day, like a mantra, you were told the same thing: you only need changbin. friends don’t compare to changbin. your family is changbin.

eventually it would’ve been hard to not give into the conditioning.

it was late at night and changbin still wasn’t home. you caught yourself feeling disappointed, looking forward to the one person that you saw in the day.

so when he arrived back home, you couldn’t help but jump up, greeting him at the door.

“i missed you.”

he stood in place for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you too. “what’s gotten into you, my darling?”

“why were you out so late?”

“i had to take care of some things,” he pulled away, nervously, “and you missed me?”

“of course i did. i love you.”

a wide smile spread across his face. “you love me? really?”

hyunjin

“i can’t believe he’s gone. i loved him so much, i don’t even know what to do with myself now.”

hyunjin rubbed your back soothingly, rocking you back and forth as you let out deep sobs into his shoulder. “i know you loved your friend, he was very kind to you.”

too kind. but you wouldn’t understand that— which is why he had to eliminate him.

“who’s gonna be there for me now? he always knew what to say and do.”

“i will always be right here. always. i can promise that to you.”

after a moment of sniffles, you pulled away slightly, staring at him with your puffy eyes that broke his heart. “i love you, hyunjin.”

“what do you mean?”

“i think i’m in love with you.” you were hysterical from the loss of your friend, not having slept for over 24 hours, and your head fuzzy from crying all day.

he was going to take advantage of that. “i love you too, y/n.”

jisung

the boy had been stalking you for ages. following you to classes, work, home— he knew everything about you at this point.

his first thought when you walked towards him, before he could even process your confession, was that you were so close to him. you had never been this close. he had only seen you from a distance.

the smell of you made him dizzy. he had sniffed your shampoos before, sure, stolen your underwear, bought your perfumes to spray around his house— but this was a whole new level and—

“hello? excuse me?”

he was brought back into reality as you waved your hands in front of his face, the butterflies replaced themselves with shock once you had asked for his number, admitting your feelings for him.

“a crush? me? you?” he stammered.

“i’ve seen you around and i think that you’re very attractive.”

felix

you were drunk out of your mind, right on his lap, dozing off on his shoulder. he was already losing it.

“felix, i think i have a crush on you.”

“what?” he pulled you up to look him in the eyes.

you giggled. “you’re so handsome. i’m so in love with you.”

he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

perhaps you wouldn’t feel the same if you knew how many times his hands have gotten bloody for you, exactly how far his infatuation with you went.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking, lix. tell me.”

instead of telling you his feelings, he decided to show them.

his hand met the back of your neck, leaning in to meet your lips.

seungmin

“i need to be honest.”

“yes?” your friend turned towards you on the couch, “you can tell me anything, y/n.”

“i think i’m in love with you.”

it was like the world had stopped for him.

no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. he was supposed to confess to you once the time was right. he needed to be confident and ready with your favorite flowers and a speech.

“seungmin?”

he couldn’t even respond, his entire face hot from your confession.

“you can tell me if you don’t feel the same way, i hope it doesn’t ruin things between us.”

“no! no!” he stammered out, “i love you too. i’ve loved you forever.”

it took him a moment to gather his thoughts together, “you’re beautiful. i’d love for you to be my girlfriend. i would treat you like a princess, every day of my life.”

now it was your turn to become a mess.

jeongin

it was all an accident.

you meant to send that text to one of your friends.

‘jeongin was so cute today. u should’ve seen him. it took everything in me to not kiss him’

within minutes, he was knocking on your door with the wind knocked out of him.

“you weren’t supposed to see that,” your face was red, not even trying to excuse your actions.

“what about me was cute?”

“your hair. it was messy— and your jacket. i loved it. and fuck— i just love you. i have a crush on you, jeongin, you caught me.”

“i’ll wear that damn jacket every single day for you to say that about me.”

“what?” your eyes widened.

“i love you too, y/n.”

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 6/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, "cheating", kinda spicy scenes

Word Count: 7503

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The second you stepped into your house, closing the door softly behind you, Jensen let out a guttural yell and slammed both palms against the steering wheel. “What the fuck was I thinking?”, he cursed loudly, the frustration and regret boiling over.

He sat there, breathing heavily, replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours in his mind. What had he expected? You had only spent one night together, sharing a few stolen kisses and vulnerable moments. He was much older than you, still legally married with children to think about. Why had he even considered that something more could come from this?

Jensen leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. You had been clear about your reservations from the start, reminding him of the age gap and the complications of his situation. Yet, despite all the red flags, he had allowed himself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something real.

“And now look at me”, he muttered to himself, his voice filled with self-reproach. “Rejected in the worst way possible”.

Meanwhile, inside your apartment, you leaned heavily against the closed door, trying to reconcile the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you since meeting Jensen. You couldn't believe how drawn you felt to someone you had only just met. Love at first sight, soulmates, fate—all of it seemed like romantic notions from movies, not something that could happen in real life. Yet here you were, grappling with feelings that had taken you completely by surprise.

You paced the living room, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Jensen's warm smile, his gentle touch, and the way he had made you feel alive, even if only for a fleeting moment. You hated how your heart had skipped a beat every time he looked at you, how your thoughts kept drifting back to him despite your best efforts to push them away.

"It's just a moment", you whispered to yourself, a mantra to ward off the ache in your chest. "In a few days, I won't even think about him again. Jensen will be just a little memory in the back of my head".

But deep down, you knew it wasn't that simple. There was something about Jensen that had stirred a longing within you, a desire for connection and understanding that you hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't just about physical attraction or a moment of shared intimacy. It was the glimpse of what could have been—a bond that had the potential to grow into something deeper, if only circumstances had been different.

You sighed heavily, sinking onto the couch and burying your face in your hands. You needed to focus, on letting go of the fantasy that had briefly taken hold of your heart.

As the hours passed, you busied yourself with mundane tasks, trying to distract yourself from the ache of disappointment and longing.

Jensen, too, drove through the streets with a heavy heart, his mind replaying your parting words over and over.

As Jensen parked the car in front of Jared’s house, he hesitated for a long moment before finally gathering the resolve to step out and head inside. Gen had taken the kids to her mother’s for a few days, which meant Jensen and Jared had the house to themselves. It was supposed to be a time to relax and enjoy each other’s company, but Jensen’s mind was weighed down with thoughts of you and the conversation that had just transpired.

When Jensen entered the house, he found Jared sitting on the couch, a slice of pizza in hand despite the early hour. Jared’s easygoing demeanor shifted as soon as he saw Jensen’s expression. He could tell something was off just by looking at his friend.

“Hey, man”, Jared greeted cautiously, setting the pizza down on a napkin beside him. “You’re back early. How did it go?”.

Jensen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before dropping onto the nearest armchair. He stared at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“Not great”, Jensen finally admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “Fucking awful actually”.

Jared’s brow furrowed in concern as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Jensen. “What happened?”.

Jensen hesitated, grappling with how to articulate the mess he had made. “I screwed up, Jared”, he confessed quietly. “She… she said she doesn’t even want a friendship, let alone something more”.

Jared’s expression shifted from concern to confusion. “How did that happen?”, he asked, genuinely puzzled. “She seemed pretty into you”.

“I don’t know, man”, he muttered. “I thought… I thought there was something there, you know? But I pushed too hard, too fast. I guess she realized it was all too complicated”.

Jared nodded slowly, processing Jensen’s words. “So, what now?”, he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

“I don’t know”, Jensen admitted. “I need to figure this out, Jared. I can’t keep going on like this”.

Jared sighed deeply, watching Jensen with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew his friend well enough to understand that this rejection would weigh heavily on him for some time. Seeing Jensen genuinely attracted to someone was a rarity, and it was clear that you had left a deep impression.

“Should I text her?”, Jared asked cautiously, sensing Jensen’s despondency. “Maybe just to check in, see if there’s anything salvageable?”.

Jensen shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “No”, he murmured quietly. “She’s done with me, Jared. She made that clear”.

“But what did you say to her?”, Jared pressed gently, leaning forward as he searched for answers. “What turned her off so hard?”.

Jensen rubbed his temples wearily, frustration etched on his face. His shoulders slumping even further as he tried to articulate the turmoil inside him.

“I couldn’t even sit down in a cafe with her”, Jensen muttered, his frustration evident. “I was afraid someone might recognize me, you know? And then I took her to the park instead. I kept looking around, making sure no one would see us. She must have thought I was ashamed of her or just… just cheating on my wife without any deeper meaning”.

Jared listened quietly.

“Shit”, Jared finally replied, his voice sympathetic. “She must have felt really sidelined… Did you explain to her about being an actor, about why you couldn’t be seen with her while still being married?”, Jared asked.

Jensen shook his head, his frustration evident. “No”, he muttered. “I should have, but by then, the damage was already fucking done. She had already made up her mind about me”.

Jared sat back, mulling over Jensen’s words as they lingered in the air between them. He could sense Jensen’s regret and genuine feelings for you, despite the short time you had spent together. The way Jensen spoke about you made it clear that there was more to this than just a passing attraction.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Jared spoke up again, his voice softer now, “You really care about her, don’t you?”.

Jensen looked up, meeting Jared’s gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and resignation. “Yeah”, he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I expected to, honestly. There’s something about her… I can’t explain it”.

Jared nodded knowingly. He had seen Jensen with women before, but this seemed different. There was a depth to Jensen’s feelings that went beyond physical attraction or casual interest.

“She’s under your skin”, Jared observed gently. “Sometimes, that happens when you least expect it”.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap”, Jensen mumbled finally, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I just need to clear my head”.

Jared nodded understandingly, removing his hand from Jensen’s shoulder. “Yeah, go get some rest”, he encouraged gently.

Two days had passed since you met Jensen for that stupid coffee. Despite your best efforts to move on and push the thoughts of him aside, his presence lingered in your mind like an unwelcome guest. Every minute seemed to be consumed with thoughts of Jensen—his smile, his voice, the way he looked at you. It was maddening how someone you had known for such a short time could have such a profound impact on your thoughts and emotions.

You found yourself replaying the moments spent together in your mind, analyzing every word and gesture. Had you been too harsh in your judgment of him? Should you have given him another chance to explain? These questions gnawed at you, fueling a sense of regret and longing.

Needing to pick up tomatoes for dinner, you headed to the nearby grocery store. As you approached the checkout counter, you spotted Jensen in a nearby aisle. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, uncertainty flooding your senses. Should you talk to him? Apologize? But before you could decide, three girls approached Jensen.

They greeted him with enthusiasm, engaging him in lively conversation. Laughter echoed from their group, and you felt rooted to the spot, watching their interaction unfold. Seeing Jensen surrounded by attention only reinforced your earlier convictions. You couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment and frustration that washed over you.

The way he interacted with those girls confirmed your belief that perhaps you had made the right decision to distance yourself. It seemed he wasn’t worth the emotional turmoil you had experienced.

But unbeknownst to you, those girls were merely fans.

You bit your tongue and turned back toward the checkout counter, determined to ignore the tumultuous feelings Jensen’s presence stirred within you. As you paid for your tomatoes, your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. You hadn’t noticed Jensen spotting you, his focus clearly drawn to the fans around him.

Meanwhile, Jensen bid farewell to the enthusiastic fans with a polite smile, his mind distracted by the sight of you in the store. He quickly paid for his item, a six-pack of beer, and headed outside, scanning the area in search of you.

Outside the store, Jensen’s heart raced with anticipation and uncertainty. He wanted to find you, to explain himself, to make things right somehow. The regret of not fully explaining his situation gnawed at him, and he hoped for another chance to connect with you.

As you walked towards your car, each step felt like a deliberate effort to distance yourself from the emotional turmoil inside. You reached your car, fumbling with the keys as you tried to unlock the door, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and unresolved feelings.

Spotting you near your car, a surge of relief and nervousness washed over him. Jensen hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach you after everything that had transpired between you.

Taking a deep breath, Jensen walked towards you, his pace measured yet determined. He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle you but desperate to bridge the gap that had grown between you since that coffee.

“Hey”, Jensen called out softly as he neared your car, his voice carrying a mix of apprehension and hope. He stopped a short distance away, giving you space while silently hoping you would turn to acknowledge him.

Your heart raced at the sound of Jensen's voice calling out to you. Mentally cursing yourself, you turned around slowly, trying to steady yourself. Your knees felt weak just from meeting his gaze again, the intensity of the emotions from the past few days flooding back all at once.

You managed a soft "hey", your voice barely above a whisper. You attempted a smile, but it felt forced, not reaching your eyes where the turmoil of conflicting emotions lingered.

Jensen noticed the tension in your smile, his heart sinking a little at the sight of your guarded expression. He took a hesitant step closer, the distance between you palpable yet daunting.

"Can we talk?", Jensen asked earnestly, his voice tinged with both regret and a desperate longing for understanding.

You hesitated, uncertain whether you wanted to reopen that door of vulnerability. Yet, deep down, a part of you yearned for closure, for clarity on what had transpired between you.

"I… I guess so", you replied softly, still grappling with your own conflicted feelings.

Jensen nodded slightly, sensing your hesitation but grateful for the chance to speak with you again.

“How have you been?”, Jensen asked gently, his voice tentative yet sincere. His eyes searched yours, hoping to gauge your mood and perhaps find a glimmer of warmth or forgiveness.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. His question was simple enough, but the complexity of your emotions made it difficult to formulate a straightforward answer.

“Fine”, you replied finally, your voice quiet yet firm. “Just… fine”.

Jensen nodded slowly, sensing the weight behind your words.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about our… conversation”, Jensen continued cautiously, choosing his words with care. “I didn’t handle it well. I should have explained things better”.

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his words without fully accepting them.

Jensen sighed heavily, a mix of frustration and remorse evident on his face as he brushed a hand over his features. The baseball cap he wore was turned backward, making him look even better, which tugged at your already conflicted emotions.

“Look, I’m sorry”, Jensen began, his voice earnest as he met your gaze with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to come off the way I did that day. It’s just… I’m not good at this kind of thing. And I should have been clearer”.

His words hung in the air, vulnerable and genuine. You could see the effort in his eyes, the desire to make amends for the misunderstanding that had driven you apart.

“I know I messed up”, Jensen continued, his tone softer now, more introspective. “I should have told you about… everything. About my situation, about why I acted the way I did”.

You listened. His admission of fault was unexpected yet somehow comforting.

Jensen took a breath, gathering his thoughts as he looked at you with a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. His voice was low and earnest as he continued, wanting desperately for you to understand.

"I want you to know that I'm not a cheater", Jensen said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "There's a lot more going on than just my marriage. It's complicated… But… Meeting you… it stirred up feelings I haven't felt in a long time".

He paused, searching your face for any sign of acceptance or understanding. "I just want you to know that I'm not an asshole", he added, his voice tinged with a hint of self-reproach. "I never meant to mislead you or hurt you. I should have been more upfront about everything".

Jensen's words hung in the air, his sincerity palpable. You could sense the turmoil within him, the weight of his own guilt and the genuine desire to set things right between you. It was clear that he carried a burden of regret, and his openness now seemed like a genuine attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

As you hesitated, Jensen stepped even closer, carefully placing a hand on your upper arm. His touch was gentle yet filled with unspoken apologies and a plea for understanding. Your heart raced, torn between the comfort of his presence and the uncertainty that still lingered.

“I… I need to go”, you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the bustling sounds of the street.

As you whispered your need to leave, Jensen reluctantly withdrew his hand, nodding in quiet acceptance. His gaze followed you as you turned and hurried away. He stood there for a moment, watching your car pull out of the parking lot and drive off into the distance.

Jensen felt a mix of disappointment and understanding wash over him. He knew deep down that rushing things had pushed you away, yet he couldn't shake the regret of not being able to convey his feelings clearly enough. As you vanished from sight, he couldn't deny the ache in his chest, a testament to the depth of emotions you had stirred within him.

For the past two days, you had occupied his thoughts incessantly. Despite his attempts to distract himself, your presence lingered in his mind, haunting him with what-ifs and regrets. He had hoped that time would dull the intensity of his feelings, but instead, they had only grown stronger.

As the day wore on, Jensen found himself drowning his sorrows in a haze of alcohol with Jared. What had started as a casual drink had quickly escalated into a full-blown session of trying to forget, with each glass bringing a temporary reprieve from the ache in his heart.

The conversation between Jensen and Jared had meandered from the upcoming convention to more personal matters, inevitably circling back to you. Jared, ever the supportive friend, listened as Jensen poured out his frustrations and regrets about the encounter earlier that day.

“I saw her today”, Jensen slurred slightly, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Tried to talk to her… but it just went to shit again”.

Jared nodded sympathetically, his own words slightly slurred from the effects of alcohol. “Damn, man. I’m sorry it went down like that”.

“Yeah”, Jensen muttered, taking another sip of his drink. “Should’ve known better”.

Just then, Jensen’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking the heavy atmosphere of their conversation. He glanced at the screen and saw Danneel’s name flashing in the caller ID.

“Danneel’s calling”, Jensen announced. He sighed heavily before answering the call, barely able to say “Hi”, before Danneel launched into a tirade.

“Jensen! You were supposed to text the gardener to stop cutting the trees in the garden! I can’t believe you forgot again!”, Danneel’s voice came through loud and clear, filled with frustration.

Jared glanced over at Jensen, his eyebrows raised in concern as he listened to the one-sided conversation. He knew how intense Danneel could be when things didn’t go according to plan.

“Calm down”, Jensen tried to interject, but Danneel cut him off.

“No, I will not calm down! This is important!”, Danneel continued, her tone sharp and authoritative.

Jensen sighed again, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. He glanced at Jared apologetically, mouthing the words “Dee’s on a roll”.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ll take care of it”, Jensen finally managed to say, his voice resigned.

Danneel huffed audibly on the other end of the line. “You better, Jensen!”, she retorted.

“I’ll handle it”.

“Good. Don’t mess this up again!”, Danneel warned sternly before hanging up abruptly.

Jared chuckled sympathetically, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Man, She´s really got you on a tight leash these days", he remarked, his tone half-joking but with a touch of genuine concern.

Jensen chuckled dryly, nodding in agreement. "Tell me about it. She's always been on top of things, but lately…". He trailed off, his expression reflecting a mix of frustration and fond exasperation.

"Yeah, she's definitely gotten bitchier over the years", Jared added quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

Jensen shot him a playful glare, though there was a hint of appreciation in his eyes. "Watch it, Padalecki", he teased in a mock-serious tone. "Or I might just let her loose on you next".

Jared chuckled again, taking a sip of his drink before leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “You know, I sometimes wonder if Danneel´s secretly training for a role as a drill sergeant”, he teased lightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I mean, she’s got the whole ‘command and conquer’ vibe down pat”.

Jensen let out a genuine laugh at that, appreciating Jared’s attempt to inject some humor into the situation. “You might be onto something there”, he replied, shaking his head.

Jared smirked playfully. “Yeah, just make sure she doesn’t take that whip and chains thing too literally”, he joked, winking.

Jensen snorted, nearly choking on his drink. “You’re not helping, man”, he managed to say between laughs, grateful for the distraction from his own thoughts.

Jared sighed, the laughter fading as he adopted a more serious tone. “You really need to think about ending things for real, Ackles”, he said quietly. “I actually talked to my lawyer earlier, and he said he’d be more than happy to take your case”.

Jensen’s smile faded, replaced by a look of resignation. He swirled his drink in his glass, staring at the amber liquid as if it held the answers to his problems. “I know”, he replied softly. “It’s just… complicated. There’s so much history, and the kids…”.

“I get it”, Jared interrupted gently. “But you’re miserable, man. It’s not just about you anymore. If you’re unhappy, the kids will pick up on that too. You deserve to be happy, and they deserve to see you happy”.

Jensen nodded slowly, absorbing Jared’s words. Deep down, he knew his friend was right. Living in limbo, trying to balance a failing marriage while navigating new feelings for someone else, wasn’t fair to anyone involved.

Jensen sighed deeply. He set his glass down on the table, the ice clinking softly as he considered Jared’s suggestion.

“Maybe talking to a lawyer wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all”.

Jared nodded in understanding, relieved that Jensen seemed open to taking a step towards resolving his situation. “It’s worth exploring your options”, he encouraged gently. “At least then you’ll know where you stand”.

Meanwhile, you sat alone at your kitchen table, absently pinching at your food with your fork. Guilt gnawed at you as you replayed the events with Jensen in your mind. He had tried to reach out, to apologize and explain, despite not deserving the treatment you had given him. Your thoughts and suspicions had clouded your judgment, painting Jensen in a negative light based on incomplete information.

"Maybe he's right", you whispered to yourself, pushing your food around on the plate without much appetite. "Maybe he isn't an asshole".

Jensen had shown vulnerability and sincerity, yet you had been quick to judge and dismiss him. The weight of regret settled in your chest, knowing you had acted rashly out of hurt and misunderstanding.

You recalled the look in Jensen's eyes, the genuine effort he had put into explaining himself. He didn't deserve to be treated with such skepticism, especially when he had been nothing but kind during your brief encounters.

"I should have given him a chance to explain", you murmured to yourself again.

You wondered if it was too late to reach out, to apologize for your assumptions and see where things could go from there.

You thought about it for a while, the internal debate raging between your sense of pride and your genuine desire to make things right. Eventually, the latter won out. Determined to apologize to Jensen and clear the air, you got dressed and headed to your car. Nervousness gnawed at you as you drove to Jared’s house. It was already 12 at night, and you weren’t sure if they would still be awake, but you felt compelled to go through with it.

When you arrived, you parked your car and took a deep breath before walking up to the front door. You rang the doorbell and waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest. After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened, revealing Jared standing there with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised to see you.

“Hey”, Jared said, his tone a mix of curiosity and mild confusion.

You swallowed hard, feeling a bit out of place but determined to see this through. “Hi, Jared. I’m really sorry to bother you so late, but I… I need to talk to Jensen. Is he still awake?”.

Jared’s expression softened as he took in your anxious demeanor. He nodded and stepped aside to let you in. “Yeah, he’s here. We’ve been having a bit of a late night ourselves. Come on in”.

You followed Jared inside, your nerves only intensifying as you heard Jensen’s voice from the living room. Jared led you to where Jensen was sitting on the couch, a beer in hand. Jensen looked up, his expression shifting from surprise to a mix of curiosity and caution when he saw you.

Jensen wore grey sweatpants and a black hoodie, a stark contrast to the polished appearance he had presented earlier. Despite the casual attire and slightly messy hair, or perhaps because of it, he looked more attractive than ever. The sight made your heart pound even more.

“Hey”, Jensen said softly, sitting up straighter, his casual demeanor shifting to one of attentive curiosity. His eyes met yours with a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the situation, before finally speaking. “Do you have a moment?”, you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Jensen nodded, his expression serious but welcoming. “Of course. Come on, sit down”.

You moved to the couch and took a seat next to him, the tension in the air palpable. Jensen watched you closely, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and hope.

Jared sensed the need for privacy and quickly excused himself, saying, “I need to grab something from the garage. You two take your time”. With that, he left the room, leaving you alone with Jensen.

As you sat next to Jensen, the familiar scent of his cologne hit you, instantly making you feel nervous again. Memories of the way he had kissed and touched you in the pool flooded your mind, making your knees weak. You bit your lip and looked down, trying to steady your thoughts.

Jensen, sensing your hesitation, gently nudged your knee with his. “Hey, it’s okay”, he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “Tell me what’s going on”.

If Jensen weren’t slightly drunk, he’d probably be just as nervous as you, but the alcohol gave him a semblance of calm. He watched you with a patient, encouraging expression, urging you to open up.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened”, you began, your voice shaky but determined. “About how I reacted and what I said. And… I realized I was unfair to you. I judged you without really understanding your situation, and I’m sorry for that”.

You continued, your voice barely above a whisper, “I had no right to be that bitchy. You’ve been nice to me from the start, and we’re not even together or anything. We just met, and I already caused so much drama, which usually isn’t me. It shouldn’t be an excuse for my behavior, but my emotions got the best of me”.

Jensen listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He could see the turmoil and sincerity in your expression, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“The fact that I feel so drawn to you despite everything—your age, your relationship status, my own situation—it just made my mind blow up”, you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you spoke the truth. “I guess I didn’t know how to handle it, and I lashed out”.

Jensen sighed softly. “I get it”, he said gently. “Believe me, I do. This whole situation is a mess, and I didn’t handle it well either. I should have been more upfront about everything from the start”.

You whispered, barely audible, "I don’t know why there's such a pull, but I just can’t seem to stay away from you".

Jensen looked at you, his expression softening even more. He squeezed your hand gently, his voice low and sincere. He paused for a moment, searching for the right words to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Must be my irresistible charm and good looks", he said with a half-smile, trying to inject a hint of humor to ease the tension.

You chuckled softly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah, that must be it", you replied with a playful grin, feeling a bit more at ease.

Jensen leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Or maybe it's just that we're both a little crazy".

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe", you admitted, your eyes meeting his with a newfound sense of connection.

Jensen's gaze held yours, the unspoken understanding between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

A heavy silence settled between you both, each lost in your thoughts. Finally, you spoke up, breaking the tension. “So, what now?”.

Jensen sighed deeply, standing up from the couch. “I think the best thing right now is for me to get a coffee”, he admitted with a rueful smile. “I’m pretty drunk at the moment, and I want to be clear-headed for this conversation”.

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. “I’ll make us some”, you offered, rising to your feet, still remembering where the kitchen was.

As you made your way to the kitchen, Jensen followed closely behind. You could feel the weight of his presence, a mixture of comfort and tension. Once in the kitchen, you busied yourself with finding the coffee and setting up the machine, grateful for the distraction.

Jensen leaned against the counter, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I really didn’t expect to see you tonight”, he said quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability.

You glanced up at him, your hands pausing momentarily. “I wasn’t sure if I’d come either”, you admitted. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about how we left things”.

Jensen nodded, his gaze steady on yours. “I’m glad you did,” he said softly.

As the coffee machine hummed to life, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of brewing coffee, you gathered your thoughts and looked up at Jensen. “Can I ask you something?”, you inquired softly, your eyes searching his for permission.

Jensen nodded, his expression earnest. “Of course. Ask me anything”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your question. “What exactly is going on with your marriage? You mentioned it was complicated, but… I need to understand”.

Jensen sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he considered his response. “It’s been a mess for a long time”, he began, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. “Danneel and I, we’ve grown apart over the years. We’re still together for the kids, and because… well, ending things is complicated too”.

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you’re separated?”.

“Not officially”, Jensen admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “We live in the same house, well, sometimes… but we’re not… together. It’s like we’re just coexisting. And it’s hard, because I don’t want to hurt the kids. But at the same time, I can’t keep living like this”.

“That sounds indeed incredibly difficult”.

Jensen looked up, meeting your gaze. “It is… And then I met you, and it felt like… like a chance to feel something real again. But I didn’t handle it well".

The coffee machine beeped, signaling that it was ready. You turned to pour two cups, handing one to Jensen. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions”, you said softly.

Jensen took the cup of coffee from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a shiver down your spine. He took a long sip, savoring the warmth and the bitter-sweet taste, needing a moment to gather his thoughts.

You leaned against the kitchen counter opposite him, watching him intently, waiting for him to continue. His eyes met yours, a mixture of vulnerability and determination shining through.

Jensen took a deep breath, looking down at his coffee cup before meeting your gaze again. “I need to explain something about that day in the park”, he began, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. “The reason I kept looking around and why I couldn’t sit down in the café with you…”.

He paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued, “I’m an actor. Not like Channing Tatum famous, obviously, because you didn’t recognize me. But enough people know me that it can be a problem. So, maybe now you can understand why I can’t be seen with someone in public. Everyone thinks I’m happily married, so…”.

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you were afraid of being seen with me and causing a scandal?”.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s complicated. I should have been upfront about it, but I didn’t want to scare you off or make things even more awkward”.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirling thoughts in your mind and make sense of what Jensen had just revealed. His confession was a lot to process, especially since it would undoubtedly influence whatever was developing between the two of you. You swallowed, feeling a mix of understanding and apprehension.

Jensen could sense your tension, and he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah”, he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. “That’s why I didn’t say anything earlier. I didn’t want to complicate things further”.

You bit your lip, contemplating everything Jensen had just shared. The complexity of his situation weighed heavily on you, making it difficult to see a clear path forward.

Jensen, sensing your inner turmoil, mumbled, “Another dealbreaker, I know”. He rubbed his face with his hands, the frustration evident in his movements. “Sometimes, I wish I was just a normal person”.

You looked at him, seeing the vulnerability and the weight of his struggles etched on his face. It was clear that his life wasn’t as glamorous as it might seem from the outside. “I don’t think it’s a dealbreaker”, you said softly, surprising even yourself with your honesty. “It’s just… a lot to take in”.

Jensen met your gaze, hope flickering in his eyes. “I get it”, he said quietly. “And I don’t expect you to have all the answers right now. I just wanted you to know the truth”.

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion. “I appreciate that”, you replied, your voice steady.

A silence stretched between you as Jensen watched you, his gaze shifting back and forth from your eyes to your lips, capturing every subtle expression. There was a palpable tension, a mixture of hope and apprehension. Finally, he broke the silence with a question that seemed to come from a place deep within him.

“What is it about you?”, Jensen whispered, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes searched yours intently, seeking an answer, or perhaps understanding. “Why do you hold me so captive?”.

You were taken aback by the raw honesty in his question. It was clear he was grappling with his feelings, trying to make sense of the connection that had sprung up so unexpectedly between you. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing”, you admitted, your voice soft. “There’s just something about you, Jensen. Something that feels… right, despite all the complications”.

Jensen’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he were trying to decipher a complex puzzle. “Do you think”, he started hesitantly, “do you think there’s a chance for us? I mean, can we find a way to make this work?”.

Jensen’s eyes widened slightly as he realized the weight of his words. Panic flickered across his face, and he quickly waved his hand dismissively. “Forget what I just said”, he mumbled, his voice filled with regret. “I’m drunk. I shouldn’t have—”.

But before he could finish his sentence, you found yourself unable to hold back any longer. Placing your mug on the counter with a soft clink, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Your hands moved instinctively to cup his face, and you gently pulled him down toward you.

Jensen’s breath hitched, and for a split second, he hesitated. But as your lips met his, all doubts melted away. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration, but quickly deepened as the emotions you had both been holding back surged to the surface.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he responded with equal fervor.

The world around you dissolved as the kiss deepened, every touch and sensation heightened. Jensen’s lips were warm and insistent against yours, moving with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the emotions between you. You could feel his hesitation give way to a growing confidence as he pulled you closer, his hands firm and possessive on your waist.

Jensen’s tongue brushed gently against your lower lip, seeking entrance. Your lips parted instinctively, allowing him in, and the kiss became more urgent, more demanding.

The taste of him, mingled with the faint hint of the coffee you had both been drinking, was intoxicating. You could feel the heat rising between you, a pulsing, almost electric connection that seemed to burn away any lingering doubts or fears.

One of your hands slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the soft hair there, while the other remained on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch. Jensen’s hands began to roam, moving from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer until there was hardly any space left between your bodies.

Before you could pull away, Jensen moved with a newfound urgency, turning the two of you until your back pressed against the cool surface of the kitchen island. With an effortless strength that made your heart race, he lifted you onto the countertop, bringing you to his eye level. The height difference between you no longer an obstacle, he stepped closer, his hands firmly gripping your hips and pulling you against him until your bodies were flush.

The sudden contact, the sensation of his firm body pressed against yours, sent a thrill through you. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes, every point of contact sparking with an intense electricity. Jensen’s hands roamed from your hips to your back, holding you close as his kiss deepened, growing more passionate, more consuming.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as your lips and tongues continued their fervent dance.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around Jensen’s hips, pulling him even closer. The sensation of his half-hard length pressing against you through the fabric of your clothes made your breath hitch and your heart race. Every touch, every movement intensified the electric connection between you, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

Jensen’s hands continued to explore, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and deepening your desire. Your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing grounding you in that moment.

Jensen pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your eyes locked onto his, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “Show me”.

With a growl of approval, Jensen captured your lips again, his kisses more urgent, more demanding. His hands roamed down your back, gripping your hips tightly as he rocked against you, his arousal evident and only fueling your own.

The intensity of the moment built, each touch, each kiss fanning the flames between you. It was as if nothing else existed, just the two of you lost in this whirlwind of passion and need. The kitchen island beneath you seemed to disappear as you surrendered completely to the overwhelming desire that had brought you together.

Jensen’s lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, making you gasp and arch against him. The feel of his lips, his breath on your skin, was almost too much to bear, yet you couldn’t get enough. You wanted him, needed him, in a way that defied logic and reason.

“Jensen”, you breathed, your voice trembling with the depth of your need.

“I need you”, Jensen whispered, his voice low and hot against your neck. As he pressed his erection harder against your clothed pussy, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that seemed to echo through the room. To Jensen, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and it fueled his desire even more.

His hands gripped your hips more firmly, pulling you impossibly closer as he continued to grind against you, the friction eliciting soft moans from both of you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the intensity of the moment made your head spin.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and flex under your touch. You needed him as much as he needed you, and the urgency of your desire was palpable.

Jensen’s lips found yours again, kissing you with a desperate passion that matched your own. His tongue danced with yours, exploring and teasing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Without breaking the kiss, Jensen’s hands slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your back. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and you arched against him, craving more of his touch.

He lifted you slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants. With a deft movement, he unbuttoned them, his fingers brushing against your skin and making you gasp. The need to feel him closer, to have him inside you, was overwhelming.

Jensen lifted you off the counter and carried you to the couch, laying you down gently. His lips never left yours, the passion and intensity between you growing with every moment. Just as Jensen’s hands began to explore your body more intimately, the sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the house.

Suddenly, Jared’s voice rang out, louder than intended. “Oh, fuck!”, he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’m so sorry!”.

You both froze, the moment shattered by Jared’s unexpected entrance. Jensen quickly pulled away, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment on his face. You could feel your cheeks burning as you hurried to adjust your clothing, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Jared stood awkwardly in the doorway, his eyes averted. “I, uh, didn’t realize… I mean, I’ll just… yeah, sorry”, he mumbled, backing out of the room hastily.

As the door closed behind Jared, an awkward silence settled between you and Jensen.

The two of you sat there in the aftermath of Jared’s interruption, the air thick with a mix of arousal, embarrassment, and the lingering desire that still pulsed between you. Jensen sat beside you on the couch, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the flush in your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heart. The intensity of the interrupted moment still hung in the air, a palpable reminder of how close you had been to something deeper and more intimate.

You looked down, your cheeks still flushed with the heat of the moment. “I’m sorry for kissing you”, you mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability.

Jensen chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry”, he said, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of amusement. “You just did what I was too scared to do”. His gaze dropped to the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants, and he cursed under his breath, a mix of frustration and self-deprecating humor.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a little of the tension ease away. “Well, then I’m glad I did", you admitted, your voice still soft but filled with sincerity. “But maybe Jared did us a favor. We should probably take things a bit slower”.

Jensen nodded in agreement, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Yeah, you’re right”, he said, his tone serious but gentle. “There’s a lot to figure out, and I don’t want to rush this… Whatever this is”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 7

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Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

[teamatsumu]

good enough.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Word count: 2,578

✎ Soulmate AU, Angst, Hurt comfort

You had always been a meek child. And it shocked everyone you would meet.

It had a lot to do with the fact that your parents were both extremely outgoing. They were loud, adventurous types who loved trying new things. It wasn't difficult to see how they were soulmates. They were practically cut from the same cloth. But you, you often made people lose the plot. You didn't act like your parents' daughter at all.

You had always been very shy. It had taken you forever to make friends in daycare, and even longer once you entered kindergarten. Kids were too loud and too messy. So you preferred to keep to yourself. The few friends you had were because someone else would take you 'under their wing' somehow.

You got better as you grew up, though you could still technically be considered an introvert. You hated that word. Hated how limiting it was and how it put you into a box. You weren't an introvert. You had friends that you loved hanging out with and spending time with. You didn't prefer being alone. You loved companionship.

You just didn't think you were interesting enough to deserve it.

So you stayed in your little circle of dedicated friends, girls you had met as a little kid and stuck by all through elementary and middle school. But towards the end of middle school, something happened that changed your life forever.

You met your soulmate.

Well, 'met' was a strong word. You saw him, from afar. You laid eyes on him, felt that electricity shoot up inside you, the mantra of 'soulmate, soulmate, soulmate' repeating in your head. It was the same pattern of feelings you were told your whole life that you would feel. Down to every last detail. Yet your brain couldn't accept it. You couldn't believe the obvious signals your body was sending you. It just couldn't be.

Your soulmate was…… Oikawa Tooru?

The Oikawa Tooru. Kitagawa Daiichi's star setter. The best player their school had seen so far. You had seen him while he was receiving the award for best setter. When your eyes had settled on him for more than 5 seconds, signaling to your body that you were looking directly at your soulmate. You were frozen in your spot, obscured in the crowd of students seated for the ceremony. Watching as Oikawa accepted his medal and his shield. The center of attention, the smile on his face bright and warm.

You in the bleachers, clapping mechanically, no different from anyone around you. Blending into your surroundings like you had your entire life.

It took you many, many weeks to get used to the idea that Oikawa Tooru was your soulmate. Your other half. It just didn't sit well with you. You had seen soulmate couples your entire life, including your parents. People with similar tastes, more or less matching personalities, so in love and so in sync.

You and Oikawa were worlds apart.

He had a gentle charm to him, easy going smile and bright, bright brown eyes, hair so casually wind swept, the color of warm chestnut. He was tall, lean, enough to command a room the second he entered it. It almost seemed like he had a spotlight on him at all times. As you watched him from afar, cracking jokes and laughing loud, annoying his friends and greeting his fans, you realized just how different you two were.

You were, in every sense of the word, average. You weren't confident, but you could speak your mind when you wanted. You weren't ugly, but you weren't exactly a head turner. You were so….. mediocre. Especially compared to someone as rare and wonderful as Oikawa Tooru. There's no way you could match up to him.

You didn't deserve him. And more importantly, he deserved so much better than you.

You never dared mention to anyone that you knew who your soulmate was. Your friends would hound you forever and your parents would be flabbergasted that you didn't tell him yet. You didn't have it in yourself to explain to them why you didn't. It made sense in your head, but you had enough awareness to know that other people would say it's utter bullshit. You didn't want to deal with that. Someday, Oikawa would give up on finding his soulmate and settle down with someone else. Someone who could fit into his shiny, busy world. All you had to do till then was stay out of the way. This was for Oikawa's own good.

You knew fate was testing you when you unintentionally ended up at the same high school as Oikawa. You had nearly done a double take when you saw him in the halls, talking to that spiky haired boy he was friends with, basking in the admiring looks of multiple girls that walked past him and waved at him. It made you sigh. It's like every time you saw him, you were reminded how much better he was than you. And all it did was strengthen your resolve to stay miles away from him.

You managed to successfully avoid Oikawa for many months, which wasn't hard considering your straightforward routine. You didn't like leaving class for no reason. You had lunch at your desk. You weren't part of any clubs so you would go straight home afterwards. Also owing to the fact that Oikawa appeared to be the busiest person in the world, it made your life much easier.

You should've known it wouldn't last long. It seemed the entire universe was conspiring to get you closer to Oikawa. And the universe had sent Matsukawa Issei to do the job.

Matsukawa was in the same class as you. He sat next to you in the back row and dosed off during most of the lessons. You thought he was incredibly amusing. Especially when he would sneak food into his mouth during classes and try to chew it without the teacher noticing that his mouth was moving. When you would try to hide your grin, he would wink at you and offer you food too, and both of you would munch on it while you waited for lessons to be over. He was very laid back and easy going, yet had a lot of confidence. In an ideal world where you weren't so anxious, you liked to think you would be a lot like him.

You never would've dreamed that someone so naturally lazy would actually be part of a sports club. Especially not volleyball. The thought never crossed your mind. Had you known, you wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole. But you made it a point to stay as far away from Oikawa and volleyball as possible, so you didn't know. Big mistake.

The midday sun was beating on your head as you stood waiting at the school gate. You tried leaning against the wall but the brick was burning up, making you yelp and jump away. You scowled at your phone, staring at Matsukawa's name before hitting Call. He picked up after only two beeps.

"Y/N-?"

"Where the hell are you, Issei? I'm getting cooked in this heat!" You whined, feeling your scowl deepen. You watched students bustle out of the gate, eager to get home and away from the sun. There was a short pause on the other end of the line before Matsukawa spoke again.

"Oh shit."

You groaned out loud at the words, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Issei, I need those notes! We have a quiz tomorrow and you promised me you would give them back after school."

You could hear Matsukawa panting on the other end, making your eyebrows furrow. Was he running?

"Listen, Y/N. I left my bag at the gym. The team is out on a run right now and I think we will be back in maybe ten minutes? Why don't you go wait at the gym and I'll give it to you when I come-"

"Wait," you cut him off. "What gym? What are you talking about?"

More huffing. "Oh yeah, you don't know. I'm in the volleyball club. Go wait for me at the gym."

You stilled, blinking once, before the implication of his words sank in and panic gripped your chest. "No, no, wait! I can't go there. I'll wait for you at the gate and you can just come give it to me-"

"Coach won't let me leave the gym during practice time. What's the big deal? It'll take two minutes-"

"No Issei!" You cut him off, feeling cornered. "Keep the notebook. I'll get it from you tomorrow."

"But what about the qui-"

You hung up.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts racing. That was so close. So close. You had unintentionally become friends with Oikawa's teammate. And you had no clue. Panic gripped you as you realized what this meant. At any given time, Oikawa could've seen you. He could've walked into your classroom to talk to Issei about something and laid eyes on you. Then he would've known.

The walk home was shaky and disorienting. You felt frustrated with yourself at this game you were playing. Trying to stay away from the boy this universe was begging you to be with. Someone your heart also desperately wanted, but your insecure, anxious brain was constantly yelling at you to stay away from.

He's too good. His future is too bright. You'll ruin him.

You were so tired.

The quiz ended up being pretty easy, considering the fact that you didn't study for it at all and spent most of your evening crying, then watching some shitty comedy on Netflix that didn't make you laugh at all, going through your snack drawer like an madwoman and finally falling asleep, where brown eyes plagued you in your dreams for the rest of the night. You thanked the gods that you had nothing good to do in your life and hence spent most of your time studying. It meant you did pretty well on your test despite doing nothing to prepare for it.

If there was one thing about you that was way above average, it was your brain.

Issei was looking at you weirdly throughout the day, and he finally spoke up at lunch, something you had been dreading.

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was yesterday?" He crossed his arms, staring at you so hard you were afraid he could take a peek into your soul.

"What the hell was what." You deadpanned, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't be daft. You nearly had a panic attack when I told you to come meet me at the volleyball gym."

You cringed at the word 'volleyball', sighing deeply. "I just didn't want to make the extra trip, it was really hot outside-"

You stopped talking when Matsukawa abruptly sat up, eyes narrowed at you. "You're bullshitting me. Tell me the truth."

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I am telling you the-"

"I'll drag the entire volleyball team here if I have to." He drawled, a challenge in his voice. "You freaked me out yesterday. And it has something to do with my club. So tell me, or I'll find out somehow."

You felt your heart race. Dammit. You couldn't think of anything else. You couldn't think of a lie to placate him. And as you stared into his dark eyes, you knew you had lost.

Matsukawa Issei became the first person to know who your soulmate was.

He had dragged you out of the class after lunch break. There had been too much to unpack in that short amount of time. You hid behind the school overlooking the grounds, telling Matsukawa everything, like word vomit that you couldn't stop. You realized as you talked just how desperate you were to tell someone about all this. You had kept it in for so long that just saying it all out loud seemed to lighten your load.

A thick blanket of silence fell on you two when you finished, nearly out of breath. You watched Matsukawa intently as he stared out at the grounds, one leg pulled up to his torso and resting his arm on his knee. He sighed heavily, running a hand across his face.

"For someone who gets the best grades in our class, you have got to be the dumbest person I have ever met."

You blinked at his words, shocked. "Huh?"

He scowled deeply at you, shocking you even more. He looked almost angry.

"You think you know better than the universe? You think you're smarter than fate?" He raised his voice, looking pissed. "How can you think the gods were wrong when they paired you with Oikawa? And to make this huge decision, without even considering how Oikawa might feel-"

"How dare you." Your voice trembled, feeling tears prick at your lash line. "All I did was consider how Oikawa might feel. I put my own feelings aside-"

"What the hell makes you think this is what Oikawa wants?" Matsukawa raised his voice even more, nearly swelling up in frustration. "You don't know him. You don't know if he wants you. You can't make this decision for him!"

You reeled at his words, blinking your tears away furiously. What the hell was Issei implying? That Oikawa could actually make any alternative choice? It couldn't be. Why would he want you?

Issei's face was softening, watching the emotions flit over your face.

"Y/N," he continued. "You're my friend. I'd like to think I know you. And from what I've seen, I guarantee you that there is not one thing about you that Oikawa won't like."

"But I-" You drew in a trembling breath. "We're so different."

Issei snorted and shrugged. "Trust me, he needs that. Or his head would get too big for his own body to carry."

You two stayed silent for a bit, letting Issei's words wash over you like a cold shower after a hot day. Your heart was screaming at you to believe him, but your mind wouldn't let up. You heard him sigh and stand up, stretching his arms above his head. How long had you been out here anyway? It felt like hours. Was school over? What time was it?

"Alright, let's go." You snapped out of your thoughts at his words, blinking owlishly up at him.

"Go where?"

He didn't answer, waving your question off like he was swatting a fly before he grabbed your arm and pulled you up to your feet, not giving you a moment to breathe as he led you away.

"Issei-"

"Shut up. I've heard enough outta you." He didn't look back at you. You felt a sting of indignation, falling into silence and letting him drag you. You felt so burnt out.

You only tuned back into the present when you heard the squeaks and thuds on hardwood floors, tensing up when Issei climbed the three small stairs leading to the open volleyball gym doors. He tugged your arm when he realized you had stopped, turning to look at you. He gave you a soft look, almost pleading.

"He deserves this. Please."

You felt your shoulders slump in acceptance, mind stilling and slowing in its tirade of thoughts. With one last deep breath, you stepped inside.

Let me know what you think!

[yunyunrin]

Chapter Three : Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : ot8 x reader, demon!ateez, born-againangel!reader

chapter warnings : arguing, crying, panic attack (not heavily described), let me know if i missed anything!

a/n — thank you all sm for waiting patiently for this 💖 i started writing this chapter and then was like “man i hate the way i write” so i lost all motivation but i eventually got it back so here is chapter 3 🩷 i hope you all enjoy it! i hope to get more writing done since im going on break soon but we shall see! please let me know what you all think!

wc : around 6.5k

MDNI

holy fool masterlist | chapter two | next

“Don’t let the Demon become any of the wiser,” a mantra that you have been telling yourself, a chant that has consumed your mind in the hours since you talked to Angel Zen. It was an easy task for an Angel to take on. Don’t let the Demon know you won’t come back. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t come to look for you, he didn’t all those years ago.

As the time on the clock ticks, the more anxious you become. If the rawness on the inside of your mouth is any indication of how nervous you are feeling then you wish the impending assignment would never come. You know he will be there, tapping on the window and begging you to let him in. In retrospect, you are unsure as to why you did. Why were you not scared of him? It isn’t a question you dwell on too long, the prayer time now approaching.

The one time you wished that the prayer would last an eternity, it went quickly. You sigh to yourself, looking around for Poppy. She isn’t there which isn’t much of a surprise. You have to go down for your assignment but the impending doom is a feeling you can’t shake off of yourself.

“One last night,” is the new saying that consumes your brain as you transport yourself down to your assignment. One last time and then you are free.

—

You transport yourself into a different place than usual, opting for the bathroom in the apartment instead of the living area or the kid’s rooms. The bathroom offers a protection from the demon. No windows for him to knock on, no windows for him to wait for you at here. You know he’s there waiting, you can feel him. You wonder if he can feel your heart race. He knows that you didn’t end on a good note, but there is no way that he knows that you aren’t coming back down to Earth after tonight.

You slowly make your way to the kid’s rooms. As you enter, your suspicions are proven true as the man — or Demon of the hour is at the window. His features aren’t as alive as they used to be. The whites of his eyes red from crying accompanied by dark eye bags. The most telling was the smile he always wore had not been plastered on his face. You think back for a split second of all the times he had not been smiling, and you could count them on your hand.

“Cherry,” he sniffled. His voice was small compared to how he normally sounded. Hearing — and seeing him like this broke your heart. It shouldn’t, considering he’s a King of Hell. You choke it up to being a good Angel, but you don’t want to analyze it any deeper.

Walking over to the baby’s crib, you ignore the man outside the window. Your own tears threaten to fall but you don’t let them. “You’re such a pretty little baby, Ariel. I know you’ll do great things one day,” you say softly. You’re acting like he is not there but all you want to do is see him. Talk to him. You aren’t supposed to feel this way. It isn’t right.

“Cherry, please let me in, let me explain. Please,” He pleaded with you. You chose to ignore him, instead placing yourself inside the baby’s crib. He doesn’t try to talk to you any more after that, and before you know it you are drifting off to sleep.

The rustling of the toddler wakes you, making you fly up from your laying position. You rush over to him, entering his dreams. The culprit of the nightmare is none other than his father, a scarier version of the human one he has to encounter every day. You shoo him away and calm down the boy. Once you leave the boy’s nightmare, the sky has lightened. You don’t see the demon anymore, but you feel him. You’re almost done.

The man shows himself and it causes you to fall back a bit. “Cherry,” his voice strained.

“I’m sorry, please don’t get attached to me,” you reply

“Why?”

“Because,”

“Because what,”

“You won’t see me any more after this,”

“What do you mean?,” his voice shivers

“I’m not going to be put on any more Earth assignments,”

“What?,”

“This is my last one,”

“No,”

—

The Demon appears in the room in an instant, an angry look on his face.

“How are you in here? I didn’t allow you,” you scream at him.

“My Cherry Blossom, one thing you will come to learn is that Kings can do anything when they’re angry. Or whenever, but that’s besides the point.”

“Get out.” you say in the most demanding voice you can muster.

“No,”

“Yes,”

Wooyoung moves to the end of the bunk beds and looks to you and moves his sight to Ariel, who is still sleeping soundly in her crib.

“Leave her alone,” you snap

“You or the baby,”

“What!? You can’t make me choose. Neither,”

“Incorrect answer,” Wooyoung smirks and starts walking towards the crib. You make a run for it, expecting to hit the crib. But you never do, instead you hit cold marble floors. Not the carpet that lays on the floor of the kid’s room. You hear several pairs of footsteps, and the scents that follow them are overwhelming. You hear one last pair walk behind you. You know who that is. Wooyoung.

You try your best to compose your emotions. To not be sad, angry, anxious but you’re finding it very hard to not yell at the man behind you. But what you want and what your body is compelled to do are two totally separate things.

“Cherry, why don’t you look up and meet the other Kings,”

The other Kings. You’re fucked.

“Wooyoung, why don’t you take me back to where I was?” you replied, speaking calmly as you could.

“That’s King to you,” you hear from the front of you. You look up and towards the direction of where the voice came from, and you see a slender, but muscular man.

“If you think I will refer to him — or any of you as King then you are sincerely out of your mind.” you bite back. Dissatisfied groans emerge from the seven of them, you hear Wooyoung’s footsteps emerge behind you.

“I didn’t tell them to call me King, I don’t mind them not referring to me as one,” Wooyoung responded to the seven of them.

“And why is that?,” the smallest of the seven questions.

“They’re the one, from the prophecy.”

“NO I’M NOT,” you scream as loud as you can. The situation is all too overwhelming for you. You pass out after your outburst, hoping that they won’t care enough to touch you.

—

You aren’t sure how long you have been passed out and when you wake up the first thing you do is bring your hair in front of your eyes. Still golden. You’re still an Angel.

“None of us touched you,” a deep voice emerged from behind you. Your head snaps back to look at the demon behind you, the demon with you is not Wooyoung. You passed out before introductions were in order so you never learned their names. The man’s scent was very clear though — tobacco.

You don’t know what to say to the man and you don’t look at him for long before you turn back around and look at your hands. Your lips quiver as your first instinct is to cry in your situation but you don’t want to look weak in their eyes. But you already passed out in their presence so how strong were you really?

“You will need to find a way to make yourself comfortable here, because you aren’t going anywhere,” the man says gruffly.

“Why can’t one of you just take me back? An Angel doesn’t belong here,” you say trying to reason with the man.

The man gets up and stalks towards you sitting down before crouching down to your level before sticking his hand out right above where your hand lays on your knee. “Touch my hand here and you will belong here just fine then," the man urges while smiling cynically.

You move back further from him, being careful to not touch the man. You are very angry at the whole situation but you call the only familiarity that you have in the Hell which you have been brought. “Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung,” you try to yell, but it comes out more as a shaky plea. Wooyoung shows up instantly, teleporting to your side.

“Yes my sweet Cherry,” he answered as he crouched down to your level. You look between him and the taller male, unable to really gather your words at that moment. Wooyoung watches as you look at the other demon and back at him before speaking again. “Did Seonghwa scare you?” he asked honestly.

“I-I- I don’t know who he is. But I don’t like him,” the man scoffs as you answer Wooyoung, which causes you both to look towards him.

“He didn’t introduce himself to you?” Wooyoung asked and you shook your head no which causes Wooyoung to sigh as he shakes his head. “Cherry that’s Seonghwa. He’s the eldest,” he explains before standing up to look at the other man. “And you are not supposed to be scaring them,” Wooyoung remarked to Seonghwa.

“I didn’t ask to be put on babysitting duty,” Seonghwa grunted back to Wooyoung.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” you exclaimed to both the men who seemed to pay no attention to you.

“Well then take it up with Hongjoong," The elder one hissed.

"He also told you to not scare them,” Wooyoung responds to Seonghwa before turning back to you. “Now you come with me,” Wooyoung orders. You get up, following Wooyoung quietly. You look directly at his back not knowing what you may see if your eyes grew curious.

He brings you to a lavish room. It was adorned with forest green and black with anything you could ever dream of having in a bedroom. “Do you like it?” Wooyoung asks.

You definitely wouldn’t have picked the exact decor theme but you are not telling him that. “I am grateful,” you answer to him. “Am I staying here until one of you take me back to Earth?” You question.

Wooyoung chuckles at your words. “Angels don’t know how to lie, so stick to being truthful. Also, you aren’t leaving here. Get comfortable,” Wooyoung smirked before dissappearing. For the first time since you were kidnapped, you are alone. You get into the bed. You decide to sit in the middle of the bed with your back against the headboard as you take in the whole room. You have a dresser, a walk in closet, a bathroom, a vanity, and a desk that has a computer on it? You don’t even know what to think of all this.

Soon, the weight of the situation dawns on you and you break down. You begin to sob and call for Poppy through your bond. You know it will go unanswered, but you have to try. Your pleas for God go unanswered in that moment and you even call for Angel Zen. His name falling from your lips is a true testimony to how desperate and sad you are in that moment.

As you are breaking down, you hear a subtle lock on your door. You get as quiet as you can, hoping that whoever is at the door will realize that they are at the wrong one. When you don’t answer after a couple more knocks, the door opens a crack.

“I’m coming in,” a man with a deep voice says before entering. As he walks in, the room fills with the smell of leather. He has a glass of ice water in hand that he sits down on the bedside table next to you. He brings the chair from your vanity to sit next to the bed.

He is a little bit taller than Wooyoung and a little shorter than Seonghwa. He’s muscular with long black hair and a pastel yellow outfit. He looks at you before speaking again, “Drink the water,” he asks more than demands while gesturing to the water with his head.

“I don’t need to drink water to survive,” you quip back, trying to set yourself assertively.

“But you were just crying so you will feel better if you do,” he responds calmly.

“I guess,” you say as you pick up the water before taking a sip. The iced water feels soothing on your throat as you drink it. “Thank you,” you mumbled before setting the glass down on the bedside table.

“Let me introduce myself,” he says before getting up to walk around the room. “I’m Yeosang,” he told you with a calm voice. The name made you instantly recall the memory you had with your best friend at the bakery.

“W-what sin d-do you rule over?” You ask hoping that his answer won’t be what you think it is.

He seems a bit shocked by your question, like he wasn’t expecting it. “Gluttony, why?” he questions. His answer hit you like a ton of bricks, and you cry. “Why are you crying?” he questions while walking closer to your bed.

“Why are you in here? Can’t I be alone?,” you ask him with pleading eyes.

“No. One of us will be with you at all times,” he answers quickly before sitting back on the chair.

“You hate me though,” you respond

“Why would you think that?” He questions honestly

“You got mad at me earlier,” you answer and confusion stains his features as he thinks to the events from earlier.

“I was just confused that Wooyoung didn’t mind you not using.. his title for him. That’s all. I was protecting him more than anything. Don’t worry,” he says hoping to ease your thoughts. “Besides, I’m the nicest one out of all of them. Besides Yunho and Mingi but they’re huge so we decided it’d be best for me to come in as to not scare you as much,” he adds.

“I just want to go to sleep,” you say tearfully. Your emotions are getting too much for you to handle again and all you want to do is cry.

Yeosang nods at your words before going to turn off the light and close the curtains in your room, making the room significantly more dark than it was before.

“Is it okay with you if I cry?” You ask quietly. You aren’t sure why you feel inclined to make him comfortable when he refuses to help you out of an uncomfortable situation, but nevertheless you ask him.

“Cry all you need,” he answers honestly before sitting down at the computer desk and turning it on. “I hope you don’t mind if I play while you sleep. I won’t be loud,” he adds.

You nod, letting him know that it’s okay for him to play games. “Will you be here when I wake up?” you question as you try and get more comfortable in the bed. “I don’t think I-I can handle so many new scents and demons at once,” you say honestly.

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he responds calmly before giving you a small smile and then turning around to focus on the technology in front of him.

You move the pillows around you mimicking a sort of nest and then laying the accent blanket over your form. For a moment, you feel content. Except for the faint clicks on the keyboard and the smell of leather that engulfs the room, that you notice easily overpowers our cherry blossom scent. Otherwise, there is no indication that you weren’t alone.

Yeosang seemed to be a quiet individual, someone who didn’t like much attention. You sit and think to yourself for a bit, about what is going to happen to you. If you’ll ever be able to get out of the place that Wooyoung selfishly brought you to. The thoughts plague your mind, but your exhaustion is greater. You eventually let your mind rest so that you can fall asleep in the makeshift nest that you’ve made for yourself.

—

A while later, you wake up but you don’t open your eyes. The smell of leather is still very strong around you which means that Yeosang is still there but the faint smell of coffee also lingers in the room.

“You’re awake,” Yeosang doesn’t question but states. You open your eyes before sitting up straight and stretching, making sure to not look towards where Yeosang is. Once you’re done, you look towards Yeosang and his surroundings. You’re trying to find where the smell of coffee is coming from but you cannot see anything coffee scented around which confuses you. “What’s on your mind?” Yeosang asks calmly.

“I smell coffee but I don’t see any,” you respond quickly and quietly, wondering to yourself if you were going crazy.

“Mingi was in here earlier,” Yeosang replies before bringing the chair next to your bed before sitting again. You give him a confused look, opting to not verbally answer him. “He was supposed to watch you next, but I told him you wanted me to stay with you until you woke up,” Yeosang adds after seeing your confused expression.

“Thank you for staying,” you respond before taking a deep breath, “I probably would have passed out again if someone besides you or Wooyoung was in here,” you answer honestly.

“I know, don’t worry. Mingi was only a little hurt,” Yeosang giggles before leaning towards the bed, “Also, Hongjoong wants all nine of us to meet later in our meeting area. I can show you where the clothes are and everything you need to shower should be in your bathroom,” he says, looking at you to gauge your response.

“Do I have to?” You ask pitifully, knowing that the answer Yeosang is going to give you will not be what you want to hear coming out of his mouth. He nods, which makes your heart drop.

“He wants to meet today but it doesn’t have to be a set time, so take all the time you need getting ready,” he responds hoping to ease your fears.

“Where are the clothes?” you question. Yeosang moves the chair back to where it belongs before waiting for you to get out of your bed. He takes you to the walk in closet where there is an assorted amount of clothes and shoes. There are nine different colors for the wardrobe with the shoes being black, a color that would easily go with each color of clothing. “Do I wear a certain color on each day of the week?” you ask before walking into the closet and taking everything in.

Yeosang giggles which causes you to look at him with confusion. “No, basically there is a color that each one of us Kings is associated with. You see my yellow shirt? That’s my color. Hongjoong’s is red, Seonghwa’s is pink, Yunho’s is baby blue, San’s is purple, Mingi’s is orange, Wooyoung is dark orange as you probably remember from the times he’s visited you, and Jongho’s is brown,” Yeosang answers swiftly.

You don’t answer but rather you walk up to the black clothes and pick up the material showing it to the King with a “then who owns this color” kind of look. He smiles shyly before answering, “Black is no one’s. So you’ll probably end up wearing it today. If you wear one of our colors it kind of symbolizes how you feel.. about a certain one of us you know?”

After hearing his response you quickly pull a black outfit off the racks before walking into the bathroom. You look at the assortment of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes and notice that they are all scented with various things.

“Yeosang, is there anything unscented?” you question.

“Uhm, I don’t think so. Why?

“Because I will mask my scent if I use this,” your response earns you a laugh from the man, which causes you to scowl. You quickly remove the look from your face because you remember that you are in fact an Angel.

“Your scent doesn’t matter down here. It is not as profound as it would be on Earth. Also, you’re in the King’s palace so all of our scents easily overpower your scent anyways. So just use what is there,” he responds before teleporting back to the other side of the room.

You close the door before sitting on the stool in the bathroom and sighing. You haven’t used scents to wash yourself since you were a human. You also haven’t seen any of them teleport since getting here. You knew that there is multiple things that they can do and that scares you quite a bit. You don’t really know the extent of their powers which is scary.

You turn the shower on and get under the hot water, which does a lot to ease the anxiety that has been residing in your body. You wash and condition you hair before washing your body. You wrap yourself in the towel before exiting the shower and you dry off thoroughly before putting on the black clothes that you took from the closet earlier. You brush your teeth and rinse your mouth before taking a few deep breaths. You know once you open the door it is only a matter of time before you have to face all eight of them. The last time you were in the presence of all eight, you passed out. You can only imagine how angry they are with you right now.

You open the door and walk out to see that Yeosang has set black socks on the bed and put inside shoes by the door for you to use. “Can you just tell them that I’m being difficult and can’t meet today,” you ask lightheartedly.

“I’m afraid not. All seven of them would come in here. I’m sure you’d rather be in a big room rather than a smaller one like this, no?” He answers.

“I guess,” you answer while putting your socks on.

“You ready?” Yeosang questions as he moves to stand in front of you.

“I don’t think I ever will be, but I don’t have a choice,” you reply.

“They aren’t as bad as they seem, come on,” Yeosang says before walking to the door and waiting for you. You follow him anxiously and after you put your shoes on, you find yourself out in the hallway of the palace on your way to meet the seven other kings.

—

Yeosang leads you to this hallway and at the end of it there is a singular door which you know leads to the grand room. The closer that you get to the door the stronger the scents are. Your walking falters a bit as your breathing becomes more staggered. If Yeosang noticed, he gave you the pleasure of not acknowledging it.

Yeosang opens the door and holds it open for you, but the moment you see the seven other men sitting at the table, you freeze. You don’t even search for the comfort of Wooyoung’s familiar face, nor do you have the ability to look back at Yeosang. Your frozen where you’re standing, and you think you may pass out at any time.

“Come. Sit on the opposite of me,” the man at the head of the table says. His tone is firm but gentle. You assume he is the leader of everyone, but his command does nothing to ease your nerves.

“Cherry,” Wooyoung speaks before getting out of his chair which is seated next to where the other male told you to sit. You look at him when he speaks to you, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you take in the familiar man. “You’re sitting in between me and Yeosang, we won’t let any of the others hurt you,” Wooyoung whispers.

“I might pass out,” you whisper back to Wooyoung. “It feels so intense in here,” You muster, your breathing becoming rapid.

“Eight kings will be intense but I know you can do it,” Wooyoung tries to reassure you.

“They’re going to yell at me,” you say to Wooyoung so quietly that you don’t even know if he can hear.

“No, they won’t. I promise,” Wooyoung responds. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps causes you and Wooyoung to look over.

The man that spoke to you when you first entered the room is now walking towards you. You can’t help but feel a sense of impending doom. He holds a stern look on his face as he walks towards you.

“I can assure you, none of us are going to yell at you. If they do, I’ll deal with them. And I promise, even if they were mad at you,” he pauses before continuing “they are way more afraid of me than they would be mad at you,” the man says with a gruff but soft and sincere tone.

You take a deep breath before walking towards the seat that you were told to sit in, not wanting to press your luck with any of the kings in front of you. Wooyoung and Yeosang take their respective seats next to you. You find yourself fidgeting with your fingers under the table, trying to keep your nervousness at bay. You aren’t sure if they are expecting you to speak first, but you won’t.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us all today,” The man sitting the direct opposite of you begins, “Will you tell us your name?”

“Blossom,” you answer more weakly than you intended to.

“I’m Hongjoong,” he responds before setting fully back into the chair, “I’m the King of all these Kings if you couldn’t tell,” he responds before staying quiet for a few moments to see if you had the desire to answer him. You don’t. You won’t speak more than you have to.

“How many of us do you know?” Hongjoong questions.

“I know the two sitting next to me, that’s about it,” you answer, not wanting to think about the encounter you had with the other on the day you were kidnapped.

“You sure?” Hongjoong responds, likely knowing that you didn’t tell the full truth.

“I tried to forget about him the moment he left my sight,” you say honestly and as nicely as you can. But you know that your words are as mean no matter what tone you use.

Hongjoong chuckles before responding, “At least you’re honest,”

“Wooyoung told me I wasn’t a good liar, so might as well not try,” you remark back. Wooyoung smiles at your comment before speaking himself.

“I know Cherry quite well,” Wooyoung says to the table.

“You do not,” You respond before thinking. Your comment earns a chuckle from Hongjoong and the one wearing purple, which you know is San.

“I know more about you than you think, I just choose to let you keep up the little facade you have going on,” he remarks back playfully. His comment makes your heart drop, because there is a lot more to you than what meets the eye.

“Okay,” you answer, choosing not to protest. You are severely outnumbered in Hell and you definitely don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You want to return to your home, Heaven.

“Well, everyone needs to introduce themselves. It is only fair,” Hongjoong says before looking at the man to his right. They all introduce themselves quickly, but the man on the left of Hongjoong looks more agitated than the rest.

“I’m Seonghwa— ow, fuck give me a damn minute,” the man winces as he looks at Hongjoong, “I’m sorry for upsetting you the other day,” he says apologetically.

“It’s fine,” you say as monotonous as you can. You honestly really dislike him and you can’t really see his apology as sincere.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Hongjoong asks sincerely

“Yes, just one. Why does one of you have to be with me at all times?” you question. You couldn’t leave even if you tried. Poppy won’t come for you and you aren’t even sure if your bond is viable anymore since you’re in Hell. It isn’t like you haven’t tried, but there is still no response from her.

“Well, since you are in Hell and you are not being.. held accountable for the sins you have committed or a demon helping with that.. You are quite..” Hongjoong ponders before responding “A rarity. You aren’t safe by yourself. Even if I said that you aren’t to be hurt, demons are conniving. They might would do it anyway, they have a lack of self control. But I trust my brothers, the seven other kings. They won’t hurt you and they’ll protect you from anyone who would try to do you wrong in our kingdom,” Hongjoong answers.

“This could all be avoided if I could get back to where I belong,” you respond back, “You wouldn’t have to do all of this extra stuff,” you try to reason, hoping that maybe he would hear you out.

“You belong here,” he responds back quickly.

“I do not,” you remark

“You are ours now, you won’t leave,”

—

You don’t know where your confidence came from but as soon as the words left Hongjoong’s mouth, you had teleported back to the room you’ve been given. You know you have likely pissed off all of them heavily — or Hongjoong at the very least. But you didn’t really care who you pissed off at this point. You’re fuming. They kidnap you from where you belong and suddenly think you’re a piece of a prophecy that includes you being romantically involved with eight of them? Absolutely crazy.

Your angered thoughts distract you for a while that you didn’t even realize someone else was in the room with you until you heard a stomp on the hardwood floor a few feet behind you. The scent that fills the room is not one that you recognize so you know that it isn’t Wooyoung, Yeosang, or Mingi. The scent of pine fills up the room and you have no clue who it belongs to. You can infer that it isn’t Hongjoong because he definitely would’ve opened his mouth by now if it was.

“Are you going to turn around and look at me or are you just going to keep staring at the wall in front of you?” The man questions, a deep voice filling your ears.

“The wall seems nice,” you retort, your anger still prevalent in your voice.

“Look at me when you speak to me,” the man orders.

You simply don’t respond once he tells you that. A conversation with him is not one that you want to have, so you don’t answer and you don’t look back at him either. In retrospect, you probably shouldn’t be petty with someone who could ruin your existence and turn you into a fallen angel with the smallest touch. But in the moment, you could care less about how he thought he deserved to be treated.

“It’s me or Hongjoong, take your pick,” the man gives an ultimatum. You despise these kinds of things, because you never win. Regardless, you just did something that likely no one has had the courage to do to the king of all kings of Hell. So you will take your chances with the man who looms behind you.

When you turn around, you see the man who dresses in the light baby blue color. You try to remember who exactly wears baby blue, but your mind keeps drawing blanks. He’s a tall man, composed of mostly leg with black hair and red highlights.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember your name right now,” you say before looking down at the floor in front of you.

“You have a lot more to be sorry for than forgetting my name, Honey,” he responds back

“I don’t exactly feel sorry for leaving a situation that could’ve been worse had I opened my mouth,” you answer honestly

“You’re an Angel, your first instinct is kindness,” the man says as a matter of fact.

“That is true. That’s why I removed myself from the situation,” you say

“Touche. I’m Yunho, by the way. Come sit,” Yunho says as he gestures to the bed, sitting on one end of it. You sit on the other end, keeping your distance from the man. “No one has ever done that to him,” Yunho says.

“I figured as much. Once I actually thought about what I did and who I did it to. I’m sorry for angering y’all,” you say apologetically.

“I think Hongjoong and Seonghwa were the only angry ones. The rest of us were mostly just surprised,” Yunho answers honestly.

“I don’t know what Hongjoong or Wooyoung are talking about whenever they say that,” you begin to rant, “You bring an Angel to Hell and then say that they are to the one true love to EIGHT men who happen to be the Kings of Hell? That’s absolutely crazy. And that isn’t being mean either that’s just being honest,” you respond, your anger beginning to boil again.

“Yes, I understand. I would also be wary if I was in your position. Mingi is really smart and knows most about the prophecy. You’d do well to speak with him, he may be able to help you understand it better,” Yunho says, trying to offer a solution to the cause of your anger.

“Learning about that stupid prophecy is the last thing I want to do. I just want to go home,” you retort back at Yunho

“Where is home for you?” Yunho questions

“Honestly, my assignment. The kids,” you answer honestly.

Heaven should be your first thought, your first answer, probably should be your only thought or only answer. But it isn’t. You didn’t feel at home in Heaven, especially since you and Poppy are no longer on good terms. She made Heaven breathable and without her, Heaven has become suffocating for you. Your only time with fresh air being when you went to assignment on earth.

Yet, you were willing to sacrifice it all just so you would never have to see Wooyoung again. You look down at your hands again and tears begin to form in your eyes. Ever since you were born, including your human birth and your rebirth as an Angel, you had always gave. Not once did you ever get something you wanted. You didn’t think that was a greedy thing. Not when you have been so selfless.

You think back to that conversation with Angel Zen and you laugh at yourself. He told you to not tell Wooyoung anything. To not let the Demon become any of the wiser and a task as simple is that, you failed. You had one job and that was to not talk to him anymore. You were almost there but you failed at the very last moments. All because you were selfless. You hated being the cause of Wooyoung’s pain. Maybe he wasn’t even upset. Maybe it was all manipulation and he was planning on kidnapping you all along. You don’t even want to know at this point. All you know now is that you are in a palace with the Eight Kings of Hell who think you’re destined to be their lover.

“What’s on your mind?” Yunho asks, breaking your trance.

“You can’t hear my thoughts?” you ask genuinely. You had just assumed that they could since they’re powerful, but maybe you wrongfully assumed.

“Not necessarily. I could if I truly wanted to and tried but you deserve to keep your autonomy,” Yunho answers truthfully.

“I hope everyone thinks the same as you,” you say.

“They should. It is really draining to do that, so it is only done if it absolutely needs to be,” Yunho answers, shifting his body towards your direction to look at you better, “I know the situation isn’t ideal for you, especially right now. But all I ask is that you give us a chance. Even if it is one by one,” Yunho tries to reason.

“Two out of the eight of you I wish to never see again,” you answer truthfully.

“Better than eight out of eight. Give them their chances last. They’ll warm up with time,” Yunho says.

“What makes you think you aren’t one of the two?” you quip lightheartedly

“You got jokes,” Yunho laughs “I’m just taking a wild guess that I’m in fact not on your bad list,” Yunho says while having his hands in a jazz hand position with an inquiring face.

You giggle at the man’s antics. You’ve enjoyed Yunho’s presence so far, considering that at the beginning his presence was extremely domineering. He made you laugh for the first time since coming here, a small piece of happiness in a depressing situation for you.

—

You aren’t sure when you ended up falling asleep but you woke up to Yunho playing games on the computer in your room. Whenever you wake up you find yourself looking at your hair to make sure it still has its signature golden glow, afraid that the one thing that’s keeping you together will be taken away from you.

“Yunho?” you whisper, even though no one else is in the room with you.

“Yes, honey?” he responds back. The nicknames you’ve been given feels weird for you. It took you a while to transition from y/n to Blossom. Then being called Cherry and the occasional Cherry Blossom.

Throughout your time since becoming an Angel, you reminisce on being called your name and the nicknames associated with that. But no one would ever call you them again. “Hell to Blossom,” Yunho quips, now having turned around in the chair to face your bed.

“You have jokes,” you say lightheartedly as you roll your eyes at his comment

“I’m fucking hilarious,” Yunho states as a matter of fact.

“Alright..”

“Now what were you going to say?” Yunho questions.

“How long will I have to be on watch for?”

“I’m not sure.. I don’t think too much longer,” Yunho says truthfully

“Does this mean I’m going home,”

Yunho gives you a look that screams “really” and to that you sigh and fall back into the bed. You don’t even know why you continue to ask.

A hard knock on the door vibrates your room, making you flinch. You sit up and look at Yunho, who looks at the door then back at you.

“Hongjoong,” he says to you curtly before walking to the door to open it.

tags :

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies @hecateslittlewitchling @adorawritesalot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @loumin908 @kirbrary @sunasmoke22 @ylak @yoonshiiu @londonbridges01

[jadeazora]

Champion's tierlist. Mostly ranking on initial battle, memorability, and personality. Lance and Geeta have better rematch teams, but you have to pay $30 for Geeta's (I personally enjoyed SV, but the games do have a mixed reputation since they were fairly glitchy, so not everyone was willing to do that), and grinding in HGSS was still kinda a pain, so I only ever bothered doing Lance's rematch once.

Trace, honestly, is memorable only for the Cubone, but has a rather lackluster team that doesn't even have full movesets and is just another friendly rival. He's very bland, especially considering that he's replacing the iconic OG final rival battle for that game.

Geeta's team is AWFUL. Using a trapper last? Using a Kingambit not last? Veluza, Gogoat, and Avalugg? Girl, why do I have to pay THIRTY DOLLARS for you to use your Pokemon correctly? What are you doing?

Diantha has zero story presence, but her team is pretty cool. Tyrantrum, Goodra, and Mega Gardevoir are all pretty solid Pokemon. She's not a hard battle, but in Gen6 they hadn't balanced the EXP Share yet, so it's easy to be overleveled if you use it.

Wallace, Steven (particularly in ORAS), and Iris are all better type specialists than Lance. Steven has two Sturdy Pokemon including one with Toxic, Wallace has Milotic (a Specially bulky Pokemon in a Gen where the moves strong against it are special) and Ludicolo (it probably won't kill you, but Double Team is annoying, and Flying and Poison weren't common attacking types back then. Fly is also inaccurate, and it's pretty much the best move you likely had access to. Unless you went for Dodrio as your Flying type and had Drill Peck, but it's a very late option when your team was probably set), and Iris at least demands a Fighting type in addition to the Ice/Dragon coverage. All Lance needs is Feraligatr with Ice Punch/Ice Fang, and Ampharos with any Electric moves for Gyarados.

Leon is a better battle than Alder, but how the game handles him just ticked me off. Like, it's good having a proactive Champ, that's why I like Alder, but I hate how the game uses him to sideline you until it literally can't anymore. SwSh was a boring game for me, and when anything interesting would happen, he was literally there to just shoo me off into doing my Gym Challenge. It feels like it goes against the "it doesn't matter if you're a kid or adult, anyone can be good at battling!" mantra of Pokemon, and having him be the face of that just made me kinda resent him. The player still feels relevant with Alder.

N, Kieran, and Nemona are some of the best rivals/Champs in the series. I like the story aspects to N and Nemona's fights more than finding them tough, but N had such a cool role in the story, and Nemona's love of battle and enthusiasm makes her a really fun character. Kieran basically has the best of both worlds in a tough battle since they use actual strategies in the DLC, and he's one of the most interesting rivals we've had for a story perspective.

Cynthia has the most aura of the Champions, and, especially with BDSP, has the toughest non-DLC added battle of them. Her roster also has very hard to get Pokemon like Milotic and Spiritomb. The physical/special split made Milotic easier to deal with, but back in Gen4, Spiritomb had no weaknesses and could usually live at least one hit. Garchomp is always strong, but in BDSP, has a Yache Berry and hits like a truck due to being properly EV'd. In Platinum, she's also pretty proactive, going thru the Distortion World with the player.

[cobaltperun]

Genius (2) - Restless

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.2k

-What time is it now where you are? We follow beats with different drums. We're looking at the same star-

Once upon a time you were precious to Cairo, her best friend, someone she played with, someone she read with, someone she read to, someone she could trust. She didn’t exactly meet you, you’ve been a part of her life way before she understood anything about the world around her. You came into her life as the daughter of her parents’ friends slash colleagues. A way for her parents to show their dominance, she supposed. Your parents weren’t as wealthy, as successful, or influential as her parents, and looking at it now, there may have been some envy and or superiority complex from one pair of parents to another.

It didn’t influence the two of you, you were just kids who happened to spend time together and have fun. She was a lonely child, as not a lot of kids wanted to even get close to Lovell Hill, but seeing as your parents kept bringing you along you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter at first.

Everything was much simpler before the two of you started going to school…

~X~

Clumsy.

That was the word she would have used to describe you back then.

“I don’t like it here, Cai,” you were smaller than her back then and you were frightened of the forest surrounding her house, even if you were close to the road. Insects freaked you out, you jumped at the smallest sounds, you were so easy to scare, but Cairo really wanted to show you something nice in the forest, to show you it wasn’t all bad.

She’s been holding your hand, pulling you along through the dark forest, unlike you she wasn’t afraid or freaked out by the forest. It was a part of her world, unapproachable, haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. Of course, back then she just took it for granted, it was around her house so of course she didn’t mind it.

“Cai, come on, let’s go back,” you tried again, but you still went along with her whims.

“C’mon, it’s close!” she was excited to take you to the bush of wild roses she came across a few days ago.

You groaned, but didn’t put up a fight and then, just as she was supposed to see the bush, she dropped your hand, and you stumbled right into her. But she didn’t get annoyed, she was too confused, too distraught by the sight of an old tree that fell over the bush.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, yet she still didn’t respond. “Cai? Cairo?” you probably followed her line of sight, as you let out a small ‘oh’ a few seconds later.

She wasn’t that smart back then, she didn’t funny understand what she was feeling, but looking back at that moment now she figured that was the first time she began understanding the nature of her home. A beautiful flower growing despite harsh environmental conditions, only to be crushed by an old decaying good for nothing tree way past its prime. The forest around her house, the whole village, functioned the same way. And though she longed to be free, to spread her wings, to bloom outside of the restraints placed upon her by her surrounding, she couldn’t. She too, much like the rose bush she failed to show you, didn’t know how to escape the earth she was stuck in.

‘I’ll do it before I start high school,’ she thought, but didn’t know where to start, and she didn’t have anyone to do it with.

‘I’ll do it during high school,’ she thought, but she never had the courage to even get on a bus to the nearby town.

‘I’ll do it after I graduate,’ was her newest mantra, but deep down she feared what was to come.

She’s been told repeatedly that she was exceptional.

It was easy to be exceptional when everyone around her seemed content with their lives here. Never striving to stand out.

But, she didn’t understand that as a six years old girl standing in the middle of the forest with you by her side. But she did feel like something was breaking her heart.

“Hey,” you took her hand ad for once you were pulling her away from the crushed rose bush, as if understanding somehow that she didn’t want to stay there, even if she didn’t move on her own. Your hand was warm, though not nearly as warm as the tears falling down her cheeks, and she often wondered what you felt at that moment? What did you see when you looked from the roses on the ground to her? Did it change you in any way? Or was it just another day or you? Something you forgot within days, or even hours.

She never really asked you, but the sight stayed burnt in her mind and she still hated how well she could visualize it if she only thought back to it.

~X~

You stopped complaining about the forest after that, you still didn’t like it, but, she didn’t have to drag you along anymore.

“Get it off me!” you cried, but still ran away from her. You were panicking about a spider that fell on your shoulder.

“So, stop running!” Cairo laughed, running after you to ‘save’ you from the evil monster that attacked you. It wasn’t even a big spider, it was tiny!

“Fine, but hurry up,” you whined, finally stopping and letting Cairo catch up to you.

Cairo looked you over, but didn’t see the spider. “It’s not here? Maybe it fell off?” she guessed. Well, with how you were running it wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Really?” you asked as she sat down on the grass.

“Yeah, come on and sit down,” she needed to catch her breath or a bit.

You just shook your head. “No. Bugs!” you pointed an accusing finger at the ground and as usual refused Cairo’s offer to sit with her.

Why did she even bother to ask you? She knew you’d say ‘no’. “Oh,” her eyes widened slightly when she saw the spider crawling back up to your shoulder. “Guess it didn’t fall off after all,” she chuckled uneasily.

“What?” you shrieked and looked to the side. “Cairo you meanie!”

Cairo just laughed as she finally got up and removed the small spider from your shoulder.

She was still six, and there, in the dark, spooky forest where a rose bush could never thrive, things were still simple.

~X~

At nine years old she was spending time at your house every now and then. And on one stormy day, when the two of you had no idea what to do, since you couldn’t go outside and the power was out, she just passed time by looking over the books your parents owned.

Finally, her eyes landed on Jules Verne’s “Around the World in Eighty Days,” and she reached up for it. The world. How she yearned to explore it, to see something beside the village she lived in, to see the huge cities, to go to the biggest amusement parks, to visit the best bookstores, to experience things she couldn’t in this village.

So, yearning for the experience the book title promised, she brought it over to you and sat down. “Wanna read?” she offered, her big eyes pleading or you to say yes.

You looked a bit uncertain, but eventually you just nodded and lit a candle so the two of you could read.

Cairo hugged you briefly and pulled you to the floor so you could lie down and read together. She was mesmerized, amazed by the idea, eager to read more and mentally pleading for you to read faster, but, by the time she would finish two pages you’d just start reading the second page.

“Sorry, I’m not a fast reader,” you apologized when you noticed she was waiting to turn the page.

It wasn’t that you read slowly, you read about as fast as anyone could expect from an eight year old, it was Cairo that was reading faster than she was supposed to. “Would you- I don’t know, read it to me? I think that might be quicker?” you suggested.

Cairo thought it over and nodded happily. Maybe it wouldn’t be as fast as if she only had the book for herself, but she wouldn’t have to pause. So, you rolled onto your back and put your arms behind your head as she began reading from the very beginning.

And to show just how much both of you enjoyed the book you kept reading, even as the power came back on and the rain stopped. It didn’t matter, you were still stuck in your book.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” Cairo read as your mother came in with glasses of juice and some snacks for the two of you.

“What are you two doing?” she asked, curiously looking at the open book in front of Cairo.

“We’re reading, ma’am,” Cairo said politely as your mother crouched down next to you.

“Reading? This one as well?” your mother nudged you gently and you grinned.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” You repeated word for word the last line Cairo read, and she and your mother just looked at you. “What? I was listening,” your grin dropped and you pouted slightly.

That was the first time Cairo realized that while she could remember almost anything she saw you could memorize sounds just as well.

~X~

It was simple and nice for another two years, and then it began shifting slowly. For the first time in her life Cairo didn’t get an A, she didn’t even get a B, but rather a C, but it would be fine, right? She was still the best in her class, seeing as only her and you got Cs, and it was a difficult test, the teacher said so as well!

She came inside to find her parents looking over some papers. A new case probably. “Father, mother,” she said a bit too quietly for her own liking. “I got the results for my test. I did my best and studied as much as I could, and the teacher said it was a-“

“Get to the point, Cairo,” her father cut her off.

Cairo looked down, test in hand. Why did the furniture around her suddenly look so much bigger than her. It felt like everything was looming over her, and just for a moment she remembered the sight of that rose bush crushed under the fallen tree. “I got a C,” she told them timidly.

Her mother finally looked at her. “A C? Are you stupid? How could you get a C?” Cairo winced at that but hearing that wasn’t nearly as bad as looking at her mother and seeing just how disappointed she was.

“We’ve given you everything, Cairo, and you’re wasting it playing all day long!” her father raised his voice, angry, furious even and she just looked down. “You are grounded, go to your room and fix this disgrace!”

She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes and began climbing up the stairs.

“Wait, what did L/N’s girl get?” her father suddenly demanded.

“A-a C as well,” she said and all hell broke loose as she curled up on her bed and tried to ignore her parents yelling, she was a disappointment, a burden, wasting their time and efforts, an ungrateful brat that would rather waste time running through the woods than study.

Unknowingly to her, you were having a much different conversation with your parents.

~X~

“Y/N,” your mother began once you were done eating dinner.

“Hm?” you looked away from the paper you were doodling on and turned to her.

“Did you get your test results?” she asked, smiling when you nodded.

“Yup! I got a C!” you exclaimed proudly causing both of your parents to look at you to see if you were joking with them.

“A C?” your father repeated, and you just nodded with a large grin on your face. “And you’re happy?”

“Yeah, it was really hard, even Cai only got a C!” you ran over to your schoolbag to show them the test.

You mother chuckled softly. “Well, if even Cairo got a C,” she smiled as you handed her the test. “I’m proud of you as long as you did your best,” she kissed your cheek softly.

~X~

When tomorrow came and you sat down next to Cairo she wanted to say hi, she wanted to talk to you like she usually would, she wanted to go and read with you again, but she still remembered the anger on her father’s face, the disappointment on her mother’s face, her blurry vision as she cried in her room.

She yearned for the attention of her parents, to have them talk to her, to take her to different places, to take her along with them at least every now and then, yet being the best student in her class wasn’t enough, and the mistake she made wasn’t to be tolerated.

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek later?” you asked between classes.

“Sorry, I have to study,” she muttered.

“Oh, tomorrow then?” she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t want to get yelled at again.

“I don’t have time,” Cairo told you, making her tone as cold as she could.

“Cai, what’s wrong?” you were too perceptive for your own good.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, she didn’t mean to, she loved the nickname, it was the only nickname she ever had.

You paused, startled by her reaction. “Right, sorry,” you looked away.

“Just leave me alone, I’ll come to you if I feel like it,” she pushed you away, physically and stomped away, just so you couldn’t see the regret or tears in her eyes.

~X~ Present day ~X~

Cairo looked at you, her eyes wide in utter disbelief. You listened to her back then, you didn’t try to talk to her, you were waiting for her to come to you. Back then she wished she did that, she wished to do it every day. At the same time she wanted you to forget what she said, to approach her and get her to talk to you, to grab her hand and stop her from leaving. You never did that. So, a week passed, and she was still stubborn.

A month passed, and she was no longer stubborn, but she was worried you’d be angry that it took her so long.

Half a year passed, she turned twelve and spent her first birthday without you around, and that worry turned into spite. Out of spite she kept you at a distance, not even saying ‘hi’.

And then, shortly after that you moved with you parents and she wanted desperately to cry, but that would only make her parents angry at her again.

“Y/N,” she said uncertainly, despising how, even after so many years your name still fell so easily from her lips, how it still felt familiar on her tongue. You changed, grew up, grew taller than her, even if you were taller than her ever since the two of you were ten, now your height difference was noticeable even as you sat next to each other.

A cough broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the class just started. “I apologize,” she blushed a bit, thankful for the distraction. Thankful that she could listen to the author she admired, yet his words sounded so distant to her. You were right there, close enough to touch and Cairo felt hot and cold at the same time. She was happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago you came back. Why didn’t you look for her? You said her name so softly, you didn’t make a scene, surely you weren’t angry at her, but why didn’t you try and visit?

It’s been years, surely you didn’t still intend to listen to her childish demand.

~X~

You could feel how tense she was throughout the whole class, glancing at you subtly from time to time and you wished to just reach over and place your hand on her shoulder. To ask her what was wrong. To not give up this time like you did all those years ago.

The bell rang but the two of you remained seated, neither truly willing to move, until finally, under Miller’s confused gaze, Cairo picked up her things and nodded at him to say goodbye.

“Cairo, wait,” you went after her and Winnie. “Let’s just grab a lunch, or old times sake?” you went straight to the point. This was Cairo, after all, she like subtlety, especially in books, but she also liked being direct when she wanted something. “I know a restaurant, I think you’ll like it,” you said when she looked at you.

“You had time to visit those, I see,” Cairo said, and you could have sworn she looked away almost bitterly.

“Cairo,” you tried, but she was already turning around to walk away. You felt as if something was squeezing your chest, a feeling of unease you couldn’t shake off, like letting her leave now, like this, would be a mistake you couldn’t come back from. And in that moment, you were reminded of you and her, years ago, as your friendship shattered. “I didn’t mean in the village,” you called after her, taking notice of the way Winnie froze and Cairo stiffened a bit.

“What?” she looked back, frowning as you closed the distance and offered her your hand.

“Let me take you out to a restaurant about an hour from here. Good food, peaceful, beautiful view, perfect for catching up. They even have live music,” you explained, just hoping she’d take your hand.

Winnie whistled at that. “Nice going new girl. Throw the girl a bone, Cairo,” she nudged Cairo a bit, but the girl remained silent, and you could almost imagine the gears turning in her head.

“Okay,” Cairo finally said, shaking your hand.

“Come on- wait, really?” Winnie looked genuinely surprised and just stared at your and Cairo’s connected hands.

“Thanks, Cairo,” you smiled softly.

“Is Saturday okay with you?” she asked, her expression softening as she took a small step closer to you. “Yeah,” the two of you just stood there, in the middle of the hall, in front of Miller’s classroom, as if captivated by one another to the point of forgetting the world around you.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund

[ash-says]

hiii ! i love your post about being audacious 🩷 do you have any tips about improving people skills/ being more charismatic? thank youuuu 🤭

Hello girlll!!! Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the audacious post. It's one of my fav tbh I literally came up with it while I was cooking. So coming to your question let me see how I can help you out tbh I share my opinions and what has worked for me so far. So practice discernment and take everything with a pinch of salt✨✨

Tips to improve People Skills/ Being more Charismatic:

1) Find your USP:

USP means Unique Selling Proposition. What makes you unique and I mean it in a personality sense more here. You can extend it to your looks but start from a personality trait cause it will be forever and very personal to you. Even if someone copies it, it will always be a cheap one.

I will elaborate on this with an example:

One of my ex colleagues was really good at socializing. He was 27 years old but I kid you not he looked like a 20 year old or even younger at times. He had a boyish charm and he used it to his full advantage. He literally had a child's energy and would jump here and there in the office, act like a literal child when not working. He had a refreshing energy to him the type that reminds you of your childhood days. Heck after a meeting with the CEO he used to watch cartoons to destress and made us watch it too so we could also relax but when it came to work he was smart, efficient and knew how to use his easy going socializing energy to generate sales. So you get my point right?? Find what attracts people to you or what value you can offer to them.

2) Knowledge. Education.

I personally swear by this. Be as disgustingly educated as possible. Know about various topics at least the basics of current trends or what's hot and some off topics. This adds dimension to your personality and helps you to hold a conversation with anyone. Plus you never run out of topics to speak on.

3) Confidence. No elaboration needed.

4)Sense of humour.

Why bore people to death by reciting the merciless nature of Julius Caesar when you could present it as a joke when something relatable comes up??? People are more likely to find you charismatic if you can make them laugh.

5) Master the art of Storytelling

This!!! Right here is a cheat code I tell you. You don't have much knowledge to speak on for now? Fine as you gradually work on it hold conversations by sharing bits of your life in a colorful way. Engage people with your life stories. Make them fun and a little dramatic. I am not advising you to lie. There's always a way you can convey something in an entertaining manner. Master it. I personally use it a lot and it's fun to connect with people cause they too loosen up and share their stories and then you link it up with your sense of humour by adding a nice comment or comeback.

Warning : Never share details that are very personal to you. Only share funny incidents and situations that won't bring you in trouble if gossiped about. Practice with discernment.

6) Learn positive body language and develop empathy. Empathy truly helps you in connecting with people on a deeper level and creating a bond based on trust and emotions.

7) Smile. Don't grin like a fool but when you see someone you know make a note to address them. Wish them good morning ,etc . Pass a genuine smile towards them. Be polite.

8) Be genuinely interested in other people but not in a nosy way instead in a healthy way. Help them out if you can. A good deed never goes to waste.

9) Have a positive outlook on everything. No one wants a pessimistic person around them. Even on days you can't. You know the mantra ," Fake it till you make it".

10) Support people. Be kind. Soft spoken. Know your place. Don't downplay yourself in front of people who are clearly not at your level and don't overestimate yourself in front of people who are professionals in those fields. Get a grip on how to act with whom. You won't know it until and unless you won't do it. Have a strong sense of self, be opinionated, confident and be witty. It's fun that way. Push your limits and don't be afraid to network with new people and talk to strangers. Who knows what will happen??

Possibilities are endless.

I hope this helps you out✨✨

[seresinhangmanjake]

your way back to me

Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake’s best student gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone so he waits for her mother to show up. But her mother just so happens to be the love of his life who left him in the middle of the night decades prior, and it’s about time she shared her biggest secret. 

Warnings: Allusion to smut. Cursing. idk, that may be it. 

Notes: This is an AU of the Oh, Baby series. 

She was a good kid. 

A great kid. 

Dedicated, strong, wise beyond her years. Wickedly stubborn, and yet, she managed to keep it from impacting her work. She didn’t have the ego; that entitlement and bravado that came with being as talented as she was. But she wasn’t just talented. As if it were woven into the network of her veins, she was the absolute best at what she did, far surpassing her classmates. 

No one wondered how she achieved so much at such a young age. She lived by some internal set of rules that Jake had caught onto over the last few months. Something along the lines of ‘work harder, train longer, don’t lose hope, never surrender.’ He could see it in every choice she made—too similar to his own mantra of motivation when he was developing his skills in the sky so many years ago. But she was also open. Open to offering others what she knew, and open to learning from others what she didn’t. He couldn’t have asked for a better student; didn’t even realize one like her could possibly exist.

He never had a child. There was one woman he would’ve given it all to, but when she left, finding another he cared to build a family with was not so easily achieved. But if anyone were to come close to what he imagined his kid to be like, Eve was it. The qualities she possessed that he recognized as his own were what bonded them, and the rest of her—the other pieces that made her whole—were infinitely better. They surpassed him. Those qualities, he’d deduced, came from her mother. 

He didn’t know much about Eve’s mother, and knew of Eve's father only what Eve had shared with him—that solely being that the man was a pilot and the determining factor in her choosing to be the same. And maybe, he thought, that was why the two of them fell into their easy flow. He had always wanted a child; someone to care and be there for, and Eve was in need of the support and encouragement that should have come from the father she never knew. And so developed the relationship they had—one of instructor and mentor, confidant and friend. 

Rooster teased him; told him that if he wanted something to take care of and watch over like a papa hawk, then he should’ve just gotten a puppy. But a puppy was a thought-out process. It was an acknowledged adjustment to daily life that required careful planning. It wasn’t the same. He hadn’t planned on taking Eve under his wing. Somehow, it was a natural development. He cared about the kid’s well-being. He wanted her to do well. The possibility of her fire and liveliness being snuffed out from a mission gone wrong was unable to pass through his mind without an accompanying squeeze to his heart. Should it become a reality, he would lose the closest thing he had to a daughter, and he knew he’d feel the full force of it. 

That was why he stayed when the rest of her team had eventually gone back to base. Despite his exhaustion, despite his duties, the aches in his body from cheap waiting room chairs, and the hours upon hours of unchanging news, he refused to leave. 

Eve only had her mother, and while she had been notified of the accident, it would take ages to make her way to California from the east coast. When she would finally arrive at the hospital, he didn’t want her to be alone. He wanted Eve’s mother to understand that there was someone else who cared about her baby, who tried so damn hard to protect her when he could, and wouldn’t leave her side when he failed. 

—-

Jake…

Jake!

He internally groaned. 

He hated when you called out to him. He hated that your voice always sounded so clear; so near that it filled him with enough false hope to have him reaching out into the darkness, thinking his fingers might actually feel your body. He imagined them grazing along your skin as you smiled at him in a promise that you were real, right in front of him, able to be tugged close and held tight and kissed until the rest of the world fell apart around you. He pictured you still in his bed, wrapped around him, trading whispers of love. It was a common stabbing to his chest that never failed to pierce through to his heart. Yet, if it disappeared, if you disappeared, if the dreams stopped, he knew it might be the thing to finally undo him. 

“Jake!”

He jolted upright in his chair before his eyes had a chance to snap open. He looked up at a ghost. Stunning. Ethereal. A well-known silhouette.

Huffing, he positioned his elbow back on the armrest so he could rest his cheek against his fist. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. “Go away,” he mumbled. “You’re not real.”

“What are you talking about?”

His vision again tried to adjust to the overhead lighting. With a bite in his tone, he replied, “You are not—” 

His eyes widened as they met those he had stared into so many times before. Real? 

Jake shook his head, trying to recall any serious hits to the head. But then an invading thought caused him to remember his purpose. 

His stiff joints cracked as he hopped out of his seat and rushed to the main desk.

"Excuse me, Miss." The words tumbled from his lips so fast it startled the young woman behind the counter. "Can you please tell me if—"

"She's going to be fine, Jake."

His breath hitched at the voice not leaving the mouth of the shocked young woman. The voice that came from behind him. That voice. The only one that mattered.

Moments ago, he was convinced his mind was having fun with him, playing and betraying simultaneously. However, needing to know Eve's state had shoved that concern to the side. But now it was unmistakable.

Jake gulped. He slowly turned. 

Fuck.

His brow pinched, eyes beginning to sting as his heart went wild inside his chest. 

Beautiful. So damn beautiful. 

Like a fresh wave, it washed over him how different he felt just at the mere sight of you compared to how he did for any woman he had in his life over the last decades. Those feelings never came close to matching. They weren't on the same tier; couldn't be when what he felt for you sat high on a pedestal of his own making. 

His eyes savored their slow scanning of you.

Exhaustion showed in the slump of your shoulders and in the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was slightly messy. The shape of your body was hidden under a large sweatshirt. Your thumbnails were worn down from being nervously picked at. And Jake could see a few fine lines touched around your face. But you were still you. You still looked like his girl. And he couldn't understand how the hell you were in front of him.

"Eve's going to be ok," you repeated. "I talked with the doctor already. They gave her some medication to help her rest."

"You talked to…" He was still worn out. Brain trying to catch up with the world around him until, eventually, it clicked. "Eve is your daughter."

The empty room was silent as you stared at him. Then you said, "We can come back in the morning to see her. They said visiting hours are over so we have to go."

You twisted on your heel, making your way to the exit. Your steps against the tile echoed. 

You were real. Each passing second further proving it. So he followed after you.

"Wait! You can't just walk aw—"

"Not here," you interjected. 

His mouth instantly closed. He wouldn't argue, fearing that doing so would somehow make you disappear. And that was not something he was willing to risk.

He trailed you out the front door of the hospital.

"Are we far enough away now that you'll talk to me?"

You stopped and faced him. Neither of you seemed to guess what to do first. He had asked his question and he wanted his answer, but you didn't appear to know how to give one, so he skipped past it and instead glanced at your ring finger. It was bare. But maybe that meant nothing.

"Are you married?" He asked.

"No." You wrapped your arms around your middle. Hugging yourself. Barring yourself from him. Your weight shifted to your other foot, then your averted gaze made its way back to his. "Are you?"

His head shook as he soaked in the relief of your response.

Heaviness settled between you despite the California breeze moving the air along. 

"Did you know?" He broke the silence, but the tension held firm. And as if you expected it, you didn’t flinch. "Did you know I was her instructor?"

The simple gesture of your nod was a punch to the gut.

"And you didn't want to reach out? Talk to me? See me?"

"Jake—"

"I would've done anything to get a chance to—" He stopped himself at the pain screwing your features. That expression had always ripped him apart. Twenty years changed nothing. 

Taking a calming breath, he continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm not trying to…" His hand ran down his face. "Shit, I don't know how to do this anymore. I never thought I'd see you again." 

You made no rushing move to collect the words he was giving you, and Jake sighed in disappointment. This was not how the two of you interacted. You didn’t stand so far apart. You didn’t hold yourselves back from touching one another. You weren’t supposed to be nervous in each other's presence. 

"You look beautiful."

With a snort, you replied, "I'm a mess." You looked down at your sweatshirt and leggings. "I wore this to bed last night. They called me at the crack of dawn and I practically ran to the airport." Tugging at the hem of the oversized top did nothing to erase its wrinkles. "I didn't know you guys train so early."

"Eve likes to, so I let her," Jake said. "I'm so relieved that she's going to be ok. She's really great. If I ever had a daughter, I'd hope she'd be like Eve."

A hard swallow briefly created a bulge in your throat. Your arms found their way around your waist again.

"Do you, uh…do you have a place to stay?" With me, he thought. You belong with me.

"I'll find a hotel."

"You can sleep at mine."

"I couldn't intrude—"

"Honey, it's you. You're not an intrusion," he said, stepping closer. 

He would’ve paused to consider the slip of the endearment and the slight widening of your eyes, but he too desperately needed to convince you to go with him. He needed more time. More time to exchange questions, to learn all he’d missed. More time to hear your voice, and maybe, if he could encourage it, hear your laugh as well. More time to be in your presence and exist in the space you enchanted. More of any and everything with you. 

His hand rested on your arm and even through the thick material of the sweatshirt, he could feel your heat. So familiar. So welcoming. 

Home.

"Come home with me, Honey. I've still got the spare room."

—

There'd been an unspoken agreement, as Jake drove back to his house, that neither of you would discuss all that had been revealed within the half-hour prior. Well, ‘agreement’ maybe was not the most accurate of words. You didn't speak, so Jake didn't pressure you. Had you chosen to open your mouth, he would've hung onto every syllable. 

When you did finally step into the house, you shocked him with your sudden willingness to ask questions. How long had he been an instructor? Why had he kept the house when he'd surely been deployed elsewhere for long periods of time throughout his career? How the rest of his old team was?

He answered each one as you made your way down the hall into the living room. Then you went quiet and Jake glanced over his shoulder to find you staring at his wall of frames. From left to right, your eyes scanned each picture—those of his friends, group shots of his past classes, and one or two of him with his Gram. But you stared longest at the last one, and reached up to softly run your fingers over your younger face; a happy young woman smiling wide from his kiss on your cheek. 

His chest tightened. "Do you want something to drink?"

You jerked your hand back to your side. A pinkish tinge rushed to your cheeks from having been caught, but seeing that reaction only produced the same in him. "No, thank you."

Nodding, he said, “Make yourself at home.” Just as you used to. Back when you were so close, so attached to one another that home really was being in each other’s space. It was the way things should have always been. It’s the way things would have continued to be had you not left him. 

Jake grabbed a glass from his cabinet as you sat, poured himself a swigs-worth of alcohol, and downed it. He needed to curb the edge; calm the wiggling nerves under his skin. Then he joined you on the couch. 

“How are you feeling?”

You blew out a long breath. “Exhausted. I was in panic mode all day. The only reason I’m not suffocating right now is because the doctor promised me she’ll be fine.”

“I felt that relief, too,” he said, trying to restrain himself from wringing his hands. “I mean, I know she isn’t my daughter, but I try to help and prepare her for every obstacle as if she were my own.”

As he had hoped, he got to hear your laugh. Not the one he so fondly remembered, though. It was a weak chuckle, not the least bit imbued with humor, and there was an odd twinge of something else he didn't quite understand. 

“Of course you do," you muttered under your breath.

His brow pinched, and he was ready to ask what you meant, but his first word was interrupted. 

“Jake, why didn’t you ever marry?”

"Uh…" He shrugged. "I don’t know. It just never happened.”

Lying to you was not something he was accustomed to. It was different than when he was a younger man keeping the secret of his feelings from the woman he’d loved for a year. You’d never directly asked him what he felt for you, so he was never in a position to be untruthful. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell you now that the sole reason he never married was because the only woman he ever imagined having a family with vanished from his life while he slept unaware and unable to stop it. You, though, didn’t seem to have the same problem when it came to properly moving on. You had created that family. Without him. 

“Were you ever married?” he asked. “To Eve’s father? Or someone?”

For such a simple curiosity, you took a while to address it, opting instead to sit in silence, eyes not entirely focused on any particular thing in the room as one thumbnail picked at the other. 

He knew that look, only shown when you were overthinking. 

"Jake," you began, eyes still lost for a moment before they flicked over to his, “Do you know how old Eve is?"

"Sure. Pretty much everyone does. She's one of the youngest to ever be in the program," he chuckled. 

A sense of pride encouraged his smile. Being so young made Eve’s skill and abilities wildly impressive, and aiding in her success couldn't be compared to anything less than an honor. 

His grin remained long after the lingering of his statement faded entirely. And not once did your expression shift. Rather, the radiating anxiety continued to halo your body. 

Jake placed his hand on top of yours to soothe their fiddling, and you immediately grabbed onto him, pulling that hand closer and keeping it snug between your palms. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?"

Sighing, you peered up at him. Your gaze was sad, desperate, pleading, in a way. And he stared back, trying to decipher that pain; hoping to figure out why you were looking at him as you were, and why you'd asked the questions you did.

Then his eyes widened. 

His jaw slackened. 

Lips parted.

He’d heard of those random shocks. Those instances of a thread suddenly linking two dots, and that new connection bringing a clarity which, in hindsight, should have been so very obvious. 

Jake sifted through his rapid replaying of memories that spanned the last couple of months. 

Phoenix eyeing the young student and commenting how the girl bore quite the resemblance to him—He’d brushed it off. Plenty of people had blond hair and green eyes. 

The way she sometimes spoke. A specific phrase said in a specific tone that he’d only ever heard come out of your mouth—Just an odd coincidence.

The fact that her name was the same as his grandmother's—There were only so many names to select from, right?

But now, with that new unbreakable thread connecting those previously sporadic dots, clarity smacked him upside the head. 

"You left me at the beginning of that summer," he started, voice low and slow and careful with each word. "And Eve's birthday is in March."

"Yes."

Looking down at your joined hands, he nodded and said, "She's our daughter."

He could practically hear your swallow. 

"...Yes."

He stood then, hand slipping from yours so it could run down his face as the other settled on his hip. He blew out a heavy breath.

"Jake, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. When I found out you were her instructor, I was going to find a way to tell you, but I was so scared and it was selfish and—"

"Does she know?"

"No, she—When she came here she told me she looked up to you, and that if she imagined the kind of man her father was, he'd be like you." 

You paused to properly exhale, head hanging in the aftermath. 

He wanted to erase that showing of shame, but if he interrupted you, you might not have given the rest of the story. And he needed the rest of the story. He needed the truth of the events that had haunted him for decades. 

"I always felt I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I left you, but hearing her say that solidified it. And for years, I let fear keep me from righting that wrong,” you said, a droplet of water falling from your face, soaking into the fabric of your leggings. "All this time I've been so afraid that you wouldn't want her, and you wouldn't want me, and it's paralyzed me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, begging him to allow them to brush away your tears—to let the woman he loved know that he didn’t hate her for her past choices—but he couldn’t move. And the only thing he could think to say was, "Should it really have taken her getting hurt for you to tell me?"

Raw heartbreak seeped into your gaze.

"So it's my daughter that is laying in a hospital bed right now." The more he said it, the more he called her that in acknowledgment of who they truly were to one another, the more it ached each limb and vein and nerve of his body to know that she was hurting. Yes, he had always cared about her and treated her like his own, but Eve being his daughter changed things. It altered his biological instincts and the chemical balance in his brain. Failing in protecting her was no longer just a failure, it was catastrophic to his soul. 

He pictured her face bruised, her lip cut, her cheek swollen. He imagined your sheer horror once learning she was injured thousands of miles out of your reach. You’d faced it alone. You never should have been alone to begin with. 

"I should've kept looking for you," he said. "I should have just told everyone else to fuck off."

"Jake, if they were telling you to give up, then—"

"Don't. Do not say it was for good reason. We could've been together. If I had found you we would've been a family."

The day his friends had sat him down, laid out what they believed to be the reality he refused to accept, and told him to move on, was fresh in his mind. Not a moment of it had faded. He’d dreamt about it for ages—sometimes still did—always waking devastated. 

Your palm cupping his cheek called him back from his thoughts. 

"The only reason we weren't a family is because I fucked up. I did,” you stressed. “This isn't on you."

You were suddenly so close, he realized. So warm within his space. How he’d survived losing you, he didn’t know. 

"Would you have come back with me? If I had been able to find where you were?"

Your hand fell but he grabbed it before you could retreat, and thankfully, you didn’t fight him. Then you sighed, the act expelling the tenseness that had stiffened your form. "I'm not going to answer that question." 

Perhaps for the best. Either answer would’ve broken him.

He wished to go back in time, to never give up on his search. He wanted a chance to convince the woman he loved to raise a child together. He wanted to be a father to that baby girl as she’d grown, and enjoy all of the moments that came with being her parent. 

Nothing could give that to him now, but at least he wouldn’t be losing any more time. 

Eve being grown didn’t mean she wasn’t his. Being in one another’s lives proved to be predestined. He was a father, had always been, and could maybe finally be seen as a father by his daughter now that you had bared it all and given the truth.

So he figured maybe it was only fair to do the same for you.

Jake looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes bore into yours, taking in the swell of your pupils and the different colors flecked around in what remained of the ring of your irises. "Is this secret sharing day?" he asked.

"What?” Your brow pinched as you sniffled and swiped your fingers under the lower lashes framing your right eye to remove the final remnants of tears. “I-I suppose so. If that’s really what you want to call it."

“Good.” Both hands were on his hips to give him some sense of physical stability, and he licked his lips, then said, "I didn't get married because I never found anyone I loved as much as I love you. I couldn’t fully give myself to anyone while I still belonged to someone else.”

Shock and disbelief melded inside that previously heartbroken gaze.

He hadn’t been able to say the words before you left. You hadn’t given him a chance. But he could see now that you had spent years wondering if felt that deeply for you, as he had wondered if you felt that way for him. 

 “Jake, you…you love me?”

“I've always loved you, Honey,” he declared just before his lips met yours. 

The soft touch didn’t seem to stun you. You didn’t take your time to adjust to the kiss you hadn’t shared in decades. Instead, you fell right into it, right alongside him. Your arms rose to wrap around his neck, sending shudders up his spine. You tugged him closer as he did the same to you. You moaned and whimpered and let your tongue play with his, so generously allowing him to get drunk off of your taste.

You kissed him exactly like he remembered; like nothing had changed or interrupted the perfect path you once started on. There was the same sweetness that, just as it used to, surrendered to an underlying burn. A familiar need for each other that had never died. And you settled into it; kissing skin and grasping at clothes and snuffing out all space between you until neither of you could take it anymore.

“Honey?” A little whine into your mouth.

“Yes,” you replied, sealing your lips again before he could say another word. Because you weren’t just answering the call of his name for you. You were answering the unspoken question the both of you already knew was coming. 

Jake grinned into the kiss and slipped his hand down the front of your leggings. 

—-

"I assume you have more questions?" 

Your voice was the first break in the peaceful silence where he had been lazily pressing his lips to your neck and bare shoulder while your back was tucked against his chest. 

He did have questions. But it was a war whether to ask them or to remain a little longer in the bubble of bliss where he could touch you and cuddle you and kiss you. You had asked, though, and he'd never been too good at denying you anything. 

Pulling his lips away from your skin, he said, “A hundred of them.” 

You flipped under the bedsheet to face him. "Any particular one you wish to start with?"

Jake paused. Not because he didn’t know the first of which to ask, but because your answer had a great deal of power over him. It contained his hope and his pain, either with the potential to destroy the other. It was an answer that would dictate his future. 

"Can she know?" He finally asked.

"She deserves to know,” you replied to his relief. “She'd want to know. As long as you want her to know, too."

His arm over your waist curled and pulled you closer. "Of course I do, Honey." 

"Then we can tell her tomorrow, if you want."

"Are you ready for that?"

"It's not about me," you said. "She might forgive me now, she might not. It could take a while, I suppose, and I hate that, but I'd deserve it."

When your head dipped down away from his, he ran his hand over the strands of your hair and brushed his lips against your forehead. 

"I hope that we all can look at this as a chance to have something new, though," you continued. "I'd like for us to look ahead, not behind."

Jake smiled. That was all he wanted. Just a chance to have what he’d lost. Everything he had lost.

"And what about you and me?" He hummed as his knuckle under your chin tilted your face back up to his. "Do we get something new as well? Because I don't know if I'm capable of letting you walk out of my life again."

The corners of your lips curved the slightest and you cupped his cheek, drawing him further into you. The kiss was gentle, brief, but more than enough to send tingles throughout him. Then you separated a hairs width and whispered:

"Jake, I'm not capable of leaving you again."

----

A/N: Ok, so this might be it for a little bit, guys, as far as fic posting. There’s been a lack of interest it seems lately and i’m not in a good space mentally to be able to put a lot into it and not know how it’s being received. It’s no ones fault but my own that I feel this way. This is how I’ve chosen to spend my time and this is the platform I picked. I want to write the rest of Oh, Baby and Beyond the Hills stuff but idk. Maybe i’ll snap out of it. But this was just to let those of you who have been following know what the plan might be. I’m very thankful that some of you have stuck around this long.

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