#for falling for another person that didn’t want me

[letorip]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[clarkeyshill]

late night talking

george clarke x fem reader

summary: george yaps whilst you try to fall asleep

navigation | main masterlist | masterlist

The bedroom was quiet aside from the hum of the fan that was cooling the room along side the drumming of George’s fingers on the duvet. He was sat with his back against the headboard and his knee bent, his gaze dropped down to your sleeping figure.

George gently tapped your shoulder making you stir as you tried to fight waking up, “Are you awake?” He asked through a whisper.

You murmured a ‘no’ pulling the quilt over your head trying to fall back to sleep.

George hummed turning his attention back to the ceiling as he started to drum on his knees again.

You rolled your eyes flipping over burying your head into curve of your boyfriends waist, George smiled letting his hand dropped to your hip.

As you slowly drifted back to sleep you were jolted back awake as you felt a jab into your rib, “George.” You grumbled, “go to sleep, please.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

You felt the bed wiggle indicating that he shrugged. You flopped over onto your back with a huff, “Go on then.”

George grinned reaching over you to turn the lamp on before you glanced over at him, “Imagine if there was an apocalypse,” he started, you squeezed your eyes shut pretending to imagine it making a giggle leave George’s lips, “who would you choose to be on your team?”

“How many people can I have?”

“Three people.”

“Okay,” you nodded, tapping your chin as you thought carefully, “you obviously.”

George pumped his fist in the air celebrating, “I would’ve been so offended if you didn’t pick me.”

You laughed shimmying closer to him, “And then I’d pick Liv because otherwise I’d be bored.”

A chuckle left George’s mouth as he started to play with your hair twirling it softly between his fingers, “One more person.”

“Bach, so Liv doesn’t get lonely.” You added, thinking through your list of friends trying to decide who else you would pick, “and then I’d pick maybe…”

You hummed, “I don’t know who else I would pick.”

“Neither of the Arthur’s?” George asked curiously.

You shook your head with a laugh, “no, tv would be too analytical for me, and hill is injured and would whine the whole time.”

George let out a laugh making you smile up at him, “What about Chris?”

“Maybe,” you nodded, thinking about it for a moment, “Alright, I’d take Chris because he can cook.”

“Fair enough.”

You looked over at your boyfriend expectantly waiting for his answer, “What about you, princess?” You teased, earning a glare from your boyfriend.

“If we’re thinking in a practical sense; I’d take Reev, Harry, and Chris.” He answered, counting them out on his fingers, “But if we’re talking in a don’t care if i die way; I’d take you…”

“Yeah. brilliant, thank you.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest earning a laugh.

“And then I’d take Arthur Hill and probably Arthur TV as well.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “that’s lovely.”

George laughed once again moving to lay down, “I have another question.”

You nodded turning on your side to face him, “What’s that?”

“When did you realise you wanted to be with me?” He asked, looking into your eyes adoringly noticing your cheeks darken at the question.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” You muttered, dropping your head down, “I always found you attractive I guess.”

“Obviously.” He joked, ticking your waist making you squirm.

“Stop,” you pushed his hand away with a laugh, “Maybe after my birthday.”

“What? This year? Honey, we’ve been together for 2 years.”

You slapped his bicep gently, “be serious will you.”

“After my 21st, we had been talking for a few months at that point, and you were chatting away to my parents and dancing with my baby sister and it just made me think of you differently.”

George smiled softly at you brushing your hair from your face, “That’s cute.” He cooed, kissing your forehead softly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You hummed, turning around so your back was pressed against his chest, “can I go back to sleep now?”

“Of course.” He smiled, kissing the crown of your head before turning off the lamp.

[cutielando]

knight in shining armor | r.c.

synopsis: in which Rafe doesn’t prove to be the biggest asshole around

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The island was quiet, only the crashing waves breaking the eerie silence of the night.

It was late - much later than you had planned on staying at the bar. You didn’t go out often, especially not this late, but an invitation from your girlfriends to go to the bar and a couple of shots later, here you were.

Battery dead, walking home in the middle of the night.

It might have been because you hated walking alone, or because of the sketchy streets, but your skin prickled with unease and tension.

You tried to tighten your jacket around you in a desperate attempt to soothe your worries, but it was useless. The tense feeling wouldn’t go away.

Someone was watching you.

You kept your head down, cautious yet very fast steps carrying you closer and closer to home.

Only a couple more minutes and then you’re home. You’ve got this.

You kept telling yourself that as you navigated through the streets, but suddenly stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a group of men sitting on a bench, exactly across the street from where you were supposed to go just now.

The voice in your head was very adamant, turn around and find another way home, but there was no other way to get to your house.

Sighing and gritting your teeth, you began walking again, not sparing the men a glance in hope that they would just ignore you and leave you alone.

That thought and hope went out the window as soon as you were passing in front of them.

A high-pitched wolf-whistle broke the otherwise quiet night, making you stiffen and almost stop in your tracks.

"Hey sweetheart, pretty late to be out and about all on your own" one of the men called out, laughing at the end of his sentence.

"You want some company?" another one said.

"Come on, don't be shy now" a third chimed in.

A feeling of panic and fear settled heavily in your chest. You were thinking about a way to respond, to say anything to get rid of those assholes, but a voice stopped you from doing so.

"She's not interested" the voice said, rough and edged with a warning of what might happen if they didn't get the hint.

You froze, slowly turning around to see who had jumped to your rescue from the shadows. And your shock was even greater when the figure finally stepped into the light, revealing the last person you had thought you were going to see.

Rafe Cameron.

"Who the hell are you, man?" one of the men called out again, not moving from their spot on the benches.

"Doesn't matter who I am. She's not interested, so you're going to leave her alone or you'll have to deal with me" he replied, his tone low and dangerous.

It was the way he said it that made the men finally slink off into the night and leave you alone.

The street fell quiet again, which allowed you to let out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asked, his voice much softer now, as he turned around to look at you.

"Yeah, I think so" you nodded, even though your voice was shaky and your hands were trembling. "Thank you"

He shrugged his shoulders, like what he did was the most natural thing in the world.

"It's nothing. You shouldn't be walking out here alone at night, it's dangerous in this part of town" he said, his eyes remaining on you.

"I know, but I don't have much of a choice. This is the only way home and my phone died, so I couldn't call a cab" you explained.

"Where do you live?" he asked, his tone direct, but still gentle.

You hesitated, your mind wary. He was Rafe Cameron, and his reputation very well preceded him, but after all, he had just saved you from a very uncomfortable situation. And the walk towards your house only got sketchier.

"Near the south docks" you finally replied, making him nod.

"I'll walk you" he said, falling into step with you, his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

The silence between the two of you was awkward at first, neither of you saying anything. But as the minutes passed, you found yourself sneaking glances at the Cameron boy. He didn't seem dangerous or crazy as people had claimed him to be, he was... normal.

"You don't have to walk me home, you know" you said after a little while, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah, I do" he replied, his tone neutral.

"Why? You don't even know me" you pointed out.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn into a faint smirk.

"I don't like seeing people get pushed around" he said.

It was a very simple and straightforward answer, but the fact that it came from Rafe Cameron was the big surprise.

You had heard many stories about Rafe Cameron from different people on the island, but none of those matched the Rafe Cameron currently walking you home to make sure nothing happened to you.

By the time you had reached your house, the tension between the two of you had slowly disappeared and the heaviness on your chest had eased.

"Thanks again, for saving me and walking me home" you said as you stopped in front of the house.

"Get inside safe, okay?" he said, his eyes finding yours.

You nodded, smiling a little.

"I'll see you around" you said before turning around and walking towards your front door, stealing one last look at him before entering the house.

Maybe the island didn't know Rafe as well as they thought.

Maybe they were wrong about him, after all.

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[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - Part I

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

Part one of our favourite stories published in 2024. If you also want to give a shout-out to a story, submit an ask and we will share it in an upcoming post featuring Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights.

~*~

much sweeter than

by mellowflicker

T, 3k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji gets married knowing one thing: his husband is his equal.

~*~

Day 4: Time Travel

by UseMyMuse (@museywrites)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of Musey's Lanuary 2024

Summary: Lan Sizhui knows his parents are happy, but he wants to fix things so they never had to suffer. Against his better judgement, he goes back in time, though he isn't sure if things will turn out the way he expected.

~*~

old wounds, like hidden ghosts

by wordsonpage (@ronniexian)

T, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: "Wei Ying, Wei Ying, you are a menace." "Oh, yeah," Wei Wuxian plays along. "And what are you gonna do about it, Hanguang-jun?" "Perhaps I should leave you." - Lan Wangji is possessed by a vengeful spirit during a night hunt. It takes Wei Wuxian a long, painful moment to notice. (my accidental darkji threadfic, cleaned)

~*~

my name on your lips

by kopicanai

T, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: To the mortals, he is Hanguang-jun. To the other gods, he is Lan Wangji. To Wei Wuxian, he is simply Lan Zhan. A Chinese gods AU

~*~

Changed for the Better

by tigerlilly3224

M, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “T-They have busy lives. It’s hard for them to step away.” Wei Wuxian didn’t usually stutter. He was tripping over his words. Trying to justify the accusations faster than his mouth can form the sounds. His brain brought up the long prepared list of why the Jiang’s did and always would come first. Lan Wangji narrowed his gaze. “You lower your own worth for their sake. You told me you wrote wrong answers on assignments so you wouldn't get a better grade than Jiang Cheng. You are your own person Wei Ying and you live as if you take up too much space. I want -“ {aka. college roommates wangxian learn to navigate their lives and heal each other along the way ✨🫶} ** on page panic attack, past referenced/implied emotional child abuse & neglect // rating due to topics both mentioned & implied but there is no spice here just feels

~*~

Having one soulmate in this life is enough

by secretninjagirl (@shawoloser)

M, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Wei Ying, come to bed,” he says. His eyes are still so soft, and his voice is so warm. “Yes,” Wei Wuxian says, wondering if his voice sounds as unsteady as he feels. He doesn’t know what this means, but he’s powerless to resist his soulmate. He will take whatever Lan Wangji is willing to give him. ------ A "missing scene" of sorts from episode 43 of The Untamed. The pan out over the Jingshi with their song playing felt very much to me like a subtextual sex scene. So I wrote that hypothetical scene.

~*~

🔒 For good

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

M, 6k, Wangxian & Xiyao | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wangji should have seen this coming. (Kind of mafia AU. Where the Jins are their usual treacherous selves but Wei Ying is perfectly capable of getting revenge. Which they absolutely deserve. For having made his Lan Zhan so much as frown.)

~*~

🔒 Bright the Day We Met

by ereshai (@ereshai)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Xichen wasn’t even sure Wangji was open to finding his soulmate. The mechanism of soulmate matching was inexact and open to misinterpretation. It was very frustrating. Wangji had always preferred certainty.

~*~

💙 Lay my body down

by tawaen

M, 54k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: One of the fragments of Wei Wuxian's soul, splintered during the first siege of the Burial Mounds, uses the energy released by the Yin Tiger Tally and flees backwards through time to another moment where Wei Wuxian was close to death – after the fall of Lotus Pier, at the hands of Jiang Wanyin. Knowing how his first life will end, Wei Wuxian decides to hide his survival, and leave the cultivation world behind.

~*~

The White Jade Hairpin

by YilingSani (@yiling-sani)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Happy Birthday, dear Hanguang-Jun!

~*~

Tell Me To Stay

by YilingSani (@yiling-sani)

G, 14k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: With heavy steps, Wei Ying walks back to the living room and plops down on the sofa again. His silver eyes travel around the room for a while, mind flooded by memories of sunny mornings, meals and cosy evenings together and all the surfaces they fucked each other on. Then they stop at the door of Lan Zhan's study. If he walked out right now... If Lan Zhan walked out right now and spoke to him, Wei Ying would throw the backpack away, hold his boyfriend close and never let him go. He begs. He begs it would happen. He begs Lan Zhan to somehow feel how much on the edge Wei Ying is balancing right now. "Please," he whispers - the tightening feeling in his throat is slowly choking him while the silver eyes threaten to fill with tears. "Please, Lan Zhan."

~*~

Heart of hearts

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

M, WIP, Series, 40k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: It won't be until several days later that Wangji will know to be grateful for Jiang Wanyin’s insistence to split up in their search. (Or, JC and LWJ spend those months searching separately and LWJ ends up finding Wei Ying a little earlier. Wei Ying who doesn’t remember anything beyond his own name. So, LWJ takes his chance and takes Wei Ying home. To Gusu.)

~*~

💙🔒 your heart is mine to fortify

by sunflowersfield

G, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: A few mornings later, Wei Ying stares up at his ceiling and listens to the wind blowing through the willow tree outside his window. It is 4:15 a.m. and he is wide awake once more. For a while, the howling wind is the only sound he hears, and then, there is movement from somewhere below him. The opening and closing of cabinet doors. Light footsteps tapping on a hardwood floor. The clanging of metal against glass. Lan Zhan has arrived at the bakery. Wei Ying allows himself to be swept away by the symphony of sounds that Lan Zhan unknowingly creates as he begins his day. His breathing slows, and his body relaxes bit by bit. He imagines that he is listening to a lullaby written just for him. And just like a lullaby, the symphony guides him back to sleep. Or: Wei Ying lives in the apartment above Lan Zhan's bakery. Or part 2: Wei Ying learns how to accept Lan Zhan's help.

~*~

Brand New Moves

by tawaen

T, 7k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: In the most ambitious heist ever planned, Team Rocket attempts to steal two legendary Pokémon – one from the Burial Mounds Gym Leader, Wei Ying; and one from the Snow White Pavilion Gym Leader, Lan Zhan. These two former rivals are paired up to battle against one another for the first time since becoming Gym Leaders! Will they be able to defeat Team Rocket? Or will they loose their composure and their Pokémon? (Just joking, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan never even notice Team Rocket. They only have eyes for each other!)

~*~

marital customs

by shijieswife

M, WIP, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Cangse, with the growing up on a mountain under the hand of an immortal cultivator who had not descended in several hundred years, often has not a clue, about a single one of the customs down the mountain. She has very little idea of customs, or respect for them, despite her decades living down from the mountain. And this, unlike other things, is something Changze has no experience in either - the art of dealing with suitors for your first born child’s hand.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[fancyfeathers]

how would batfam react if a mission involving a time related brought daughter!reader from the future to the past, and she has like heavy scarring and muscle that rivals Jason’s. Maybe she joined some form of superhero team in the future or became a mercenary

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Ooooo I have been playing Gotham Knights and this just is such a good idea to me so I am taking some inspiration from that game.

It would have been completely unintentional, an accident during a Justice League mission, but now they are standing in a room with group of bunch of other vigilantes, it’s clear none of them have powers, and it’s clear to Bruce who one of them is, he would recognize her anywhere. The first question is not who are you or are you okay but…

“What happened to you?”

Her teammates have to hold her back from strangling him, the pent up rage over the years coming to the surface. After everything had calmed down, they both get an explanation, something went wrong in a Justice League mission and now they are here and then they are a vigilante group in Gotham…

“Oh so kind of like Batman.”

Barry needs to shut up sometimes because as soon as he says that there are awkward glances among the visitors, including Bruce’s daughter who is just staring at the ground like she saw a ghost.

“N-not exactly… we aren’t on the best of terms with our Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, Oracle, Spoiler- you get the idea.”

“Why is that?”

“Take a guess-“

“It’s because of her, because she ran away, didn’t she?”

Bruce was right when he answered the question that was meant towards Oliver Queen. There is just a bitter silence in the room for a long time before the meeting disperses, the vigilantes will be kept under watch until they can find a way back for them, and this means staying at Wayne Manor.

The feeling of walking back in there is horrible, it is even worse when her and her crew are led inside where the entire family is waiting because Bruce needed to explain everything to them, then the looks she got when she just stepped in the doorway made her want to run away…

Dick looked confused

Jason looked like he was in pain

Tim looked as if he was about to cry

Damian clearly wanted to scream…

But then there was her mother and she looked at her with just a smile, and ran her hand against her daughter’s cheek…

“Look how big you’ve gotten, you’re beautiful.”

Then there is the smallest voice…

“Mama? Who is this?”

She looks down to see herself, so much younger, seven or eight, dressed up like a doll, a hard contrast to the person she has become, but the little girl just smiles at her…

“You’re really pretty, you remind me of Wonder Woman.”

The comment just melts her and she sinks down to one knee and ruffles her younger self’s hair.

“Sweetness, this may be hard to believe, but she is you from many years in the future.”

“Wow, really Mama?”

“Yes, dearest.”

There isn’t even a moment before the little girl is all over her future self, asking her questions about her future, advice…

“Do I date that boy from my class?”

“Well sort of… it is hard to explain, he loves you, but you sort of fall out of love with him… it’s messy.”

She can’t exactly tell her that he ended up being in the Court of Owls.

“Oh okay… well where did you get that scar on your arm?”

“I fell off of a building.”

She can’t tell her that she was being chased by Jason and Dick and she jumped off of a building and into the river, bagging up her arm against the debris.

“What I should I do to meet all your other friends?”

“You’ll figure it out, friendships come naturally to us and kindred souls have a tendency to find one another.”

Her brothers and father both love and hate this, her current self seems to happy to have this opportunity and her future self seems to have a huge load lifted off of her shoulders, but the life she lives is away from them, running from them, choosing a life of pain over them.

[rose24207]

Dad!lado scared to hold his first baby because she’s so tiny

Tiny

Summary: Lando overcomes his fear of holding his tiny newborn daughter, discovering an overwhelming love and sense of responsibility that changes him forever.

Genre: Dad!Lando, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: another one done :) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The hospital room was quiet except for the gentle hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of nurses passing by. The air felt thick with anticipation and exhaustion, the kind that settles after hours of labor.

You were lying back against the pillows, your face glowing despite the weariness etched into your features. In your arms was the tiniest human Lando Norris had ever seen.

His daughter.

Lando stood a few steps away, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back and forth on his heels like he couldn’t figure out whether to step closer or retreat.

His eyes hadn’t left the baby since the nurse had swaddled her and handed her to you. The sight of her, all pink cheeks and downy hair, had knocked the wind out of him. She looked impossibly fragile, like a breath of wind might blow her away.

“Do you want to hold her?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Lando’s head jerked up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “What?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Oh, uh, I don’t—I mean, I do, but—she’s so tiny. What if I...”

You smiled gently, your exhaustion melting into warmth. “You won’t hurt her, Lando. I promise.”

But he didn’t move.

His gaze flicked back to the baby, her tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. She was so new, so delicate. How could anyone expect him to hold her when he couldn’t even wrap his mind around the fact that she existed?

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “What if I drop her? Or hold her wrong? I don’t want to hurt her.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. Lando was always so confident—on the track, in front of the cameras, even when life threw curveballs his way. But here, faced with this tiny, perfect person who depended entirely on him, he was terrified.

“She’s your daughter,” you said softly. “She already knows you, Lando. She’s been hearing your voice for months. And I know she’ll feel safe with you.”

Lando hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides.

He wanted to.

God, he wanted to.

But the fear of doing something wrong kept him rooted in place.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes and decided to meet him halfway. “Come here,” you whispered, shifting slightly to make room for him on the edge of the bed. “Sit with me.”

Lando moved cautiously, like he was afraid even his footsteps might disturb the baby. He perched on the edge of the bed, his hands still buried in his pockets.

You gently reached out and took one of his hands, guiding it toward the baby.

“See?” you said as his fingers brushed against her tiny hand. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

As if on cue, the baby stirred, her impossibly small fingers curling instinctively around Lando’s. His breath hitched, and he froze, staring at the connection like it was something out of a dream.

“She’s holding me,” he whispered, his voice thick with wonder.

“She knows her dad,” you said, smiling through tears.

Lando swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. He let his other hand come up, cradling the baby’s head as you carefully transferred her into his arms. His movements were slow, almost agonizingly so, but eventually, he was holding her.

And just like that, the world seemed to stop.

She was so small, her entire body fitting easily into the curve of his arms. Her face was scrunched up, her lips slightly parted as she let out a tiny sigh. Lando stared at her like she held the secrets of the universe, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“She’s... perfect,” he said, his voice trembling.

“She is,” you agreed, resting your head against his shoulder.

Lando’s heart felt like it might burst. He’d experienced incredible moments before—winning races, standing on podiums, hearing crowds chant his name—but none of it compared to this. None of it came close to the weight of his daughter in his arms, the realization that she was his to protect, to love, to cherish.

“I can feel her heartbeat,” he murmured, awestruck. “It’s so fast. Is that normal?”

You chuckled softly. “It’s normal. Babies’ hearts beat faster than ours.”

He nodded, though he barely registered your response. He was too busy memorizing every detail of her face—the curve of her tiny nose, the way her eyelashes rested against her cheeks, the faint tufts of hair on her head.

“What if I mess this up?” he asked after a long silence. His voice cracked on the last word, and you could hear the raw emotion behind it.

“You won’t,” you said firmly. “You already love her so much. That’s what matters.”

Lando blinked rapidly, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared,” he admitted. “Or this happy. It’s like my chest can’t hold it all.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward you. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Lando. She’s lucky to have you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as he let the weight of your words settle over him. For the first time since entering the hospital, he felt a small sense of calm. The fear was still there, but it was tempered by something stronger—love.

The baby let out a tiny whimper, and Lando instinctively rocked her, his movements gentle and unsure. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “Daddy’s got you.”

And in that moment, he realized it was true. He did have her. She might be tiny, and the responsibility might feel overwhelming, but she was his. And he would do everything in his power to make sure she was safe, happy, and loved.

You watched the two of them, your heart swelling with love for the man who had stepped so beautifully into this new role.

Lando might have been scared, but as you looked at him cradling your daughter, you knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Lando never forgot that moment—the first time he held his daughter, the overwhelming mix of fear and love that consumed him. And as the years passed, as she grew from a tiny baby into a curious toddler and beyond, he carried that feeling with him: the knowledge that no matter what, she had him—and he had her.

Thank you for reading!

[emma23]

When you left:

Joel miller x reader

————————————————————————

It’s quiet outside. The world is still, as it often is in these moments, when danger feels both distant and imminent at the same time. You hear the wind brushing against the cracked window of the small cabin you’ve holed up in for the night.

Joel’s standing across from you, eyes heavy, filled with something between regret and longing. His rough hand, scarred from years of survival, lingers mid-air before it falls to his side.

His voice is low, as if the words are a burden he’s struggling to lift.

“You’re afraid of me.”

His gaze holds yours, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of something human beneath all that guardedness. It’s not often you see Joel like this. Vulnerable. But it’s fleeting.

He takes a step closer, his breath shallow as he continues, “You are aware that you’re the only person in this world I’d never hurt, right?”

The words hit you, but not the way he wants them to. They echo, bouncing around the walls of your mind, but they don’t offer comfort. If anything, they open a wound that’s been festering for too long. You feel your throat tighten, that familiar sting of pain and anger bubbling up inside you.

“If that was the case,” you start, voice steady despite the crack you feel coming, “then you wouldn’t have walked out of my life when I needed you the most.”

Joel’s face falters. His brows knit together, the weight of your words sinking in. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off before he can offer an excuse.

“You already did hurt me, Joel.”

Silence follows. It’s deafening, thick with everything left unsaid. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench as if he’s fighting some internal battle. You want to believe that he’s sorry, that he understands what he did to you. But there’s this stubbornness in him, this refusal to admit just how much damage his leaving caused.

He steps closer, the tension in the room thick as his presence looms over you. “I didn’t have a choice,” he says, his voice rough, filled with a sadness that almost makes you want to forgive him. Almost.

You shake your head, backing away slightly, needing space from him—space to think, to breathe. “There’s always a choice, Joel,” you say softly. “And you chose to leave.”

The memory of that day is still fresh in your mind. The moment you realized Joel was gone, that he’d left without a word, without any explanation. It felt like your world had crumbled beneath your feet, like you’d been abandoned all over again, just like everyone else you’d ever trusted.

Joel looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s never been good with emotions, never been good at handling situations like this. But this time, you won’t let him off that easily. You won’t let him run from this.

“Do you know what it felt like?” you continue, voice trembling now. “To wake up and find out you were just... gone? Like I meant nothing to you?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and he takes another step forward, his hand reaching out to you again, as if he’s trying to bridge the gap between you two. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “Do I? Because it sure felt like it.”

He sighs, stepping even closer, until there’s almost no space left between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just... I had to keep you safe. I couldn’t...”

His voice trails off, and you see that familiar pain in his eyes—the same pain you’ve seen when he talks about his past, about everything he’s lost. But this isn’t about his pain. It’s about yours.

“Keep me safe?” you laugh bitterly. “Joel, I would’ve rather faced every danger in this world than lose you like that.”

His hand finally reaches you, resting on your arm. His touch is warm, but it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest. It just reminds you of everything you’ve missed, everything that’s been lost between you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The words are almost too quiet, like he’s afraid to say them. Like they’re too heavy for him to carry.

You look up at him, searching his face for something—anything that might make this easier. But all you find is a man who’s just as broken as you are, if not more.

“I don’t know if sorry’s enough, Joel,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He flinches, and for the first time, you see something crack in him. “I’ll do better,” he promises, his voice urgent now. “I won’t leave again. I swear.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that things could go back to the way they were, that you could find some semblance of happiness in this broken world. But deep down, you know that things will never be the same. Too much has happened, too much has been lost.

You let out a shaky breath, stepping closer until your forehead rests against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to feel safe in his arms again.

But the hurt is still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

“I missed you,” you whisper against his chest, your voice barely audible.

He holds you tighter. “I missed you too.”

Later, as you lay in bed together, the room silent except for the sound of your breathing, you find yourself wondering if things could ever truly be okay between you two. If the scars left behind by his absence will ever fade.

Joel’s arms are wrapped around you, his presence warm and solid beside you. And for now, that’s enough.

But as you drift off to sleep, a single thought lingers in the back of your mind:

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough.

Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t losing someone—it’s realizing they were never really yours to begin with.

[nvtstvrns]

𝐵𝓊𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓃

Dad!matt, mom!reader

Summary: you already have a three year old kid and you’re currently 26 weeks (6 months) pregnant with your second kid. You can’t get your toddler to sleep and you get overwhelmed, Matt helps you.

Contains: dad!matt, fluff, pregnancy, toddler, mentions of anxiety.

Authors note: the unborn baby is going to be referred to as bun and the three year old is going to be named Aria (It’s too confusing to call it b/n)

Divider creds: me

I was laying in Matt and I’s shared bed, Matt was laying next to me on his phone and Aria was sitting in between us, her little head was rested on my belly, where another baby is currently growing. I brush my hands through Aria’s soft hair and she watches Peppa Pig.

“Hey Ari, it’s time to go to bed, do you wanna tell daddy night night?” I ask the little girl resting on my belly, I forgot it was almost 10pm and she needed her sleep.

“No! Ion wanna go sleep!” She says her little arms crossing over her chest. She pouts next to me continuing to watch the tv.

“Matt a little help here?” I say tapping his shoulder making sure he wasn’t asleep or something. “She won’t go to bed.”

Matt turns to face us and he picks Aria up. “Come on Aria, don’t be so sad, you’ll see us and bun tomorrow morning.” He says looking over at my belly. I rub my hand on it and look up at Matt smiling softly.

“Yeah Ari, you need your sleep to grow big and strong.” I tell her. She crosses her arms again and lets out a “hmmph.” I roll my eyes and I pick her up off of Matt’s lap. “Let’s go sweetheart.”

“No! I wan daddy!” She says pulling away from me and while she was flailing her arms and legs she kicks my stomach. “Oh God…” I say putting a hand on my stomach and giving Aria back to Matt.

“Hey are you okay?” He asks quickly getting up out of bed to see if I was okay. “Did she kick you hard?”

“No I’m okay, I was just a little sore.” I say rubbing circles on my stomach.

“Okay, you’re gonna get in bed and you’re gonna go to sleep while I put Aria to bed, you aren’t getting up for anything, I’ll get it for you if you need it.” Matt says picking Aria up and starts carrying her to her bedroom.

I lay back in bed and smile contently. I had such a perfect guy taking care of me and our sweet daughter, and I could tell that he personally loves whenever he gets any kind of personal time with her. I remember when I first found out I was pregnant he wanted a girl more than anything in this world and when we opened that envelope to see what it was he was ecstatic. He jumped around and whooped, he told every single person in his family that we were having a girl, he was so so proud especially the day that she was born, he even cried that day. So seeing him take care of her now made me really happy to see.

When he came back to the bedroom I was half asleep with Peppa Pig still playing in the background. He quietly crawls into bed and turns the tv off. “Ooh baby, finally some alone time with my favorite girl.” He says kissing my cheek gently.

“I was just about to go to sleep Matt.” I say opening my eyes gently,

“Oh I’m sorry, go to sleep baby, do you want me to rub your head for you? I know you had a headache earlier.” I dismiss his offer with a wave of my hand as I slowly fall asleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When I wake up the next morning Matt had already gotten Aria up and changed into her day clothes, she was already eating breakfast and watching her morning cartoons.

“Oh my god Matt, you’re too good to me.” I say taking it all in. I sit at the counter and he gets me a plate of food.

“I’m just being helpful, after Bun is born I’m gonna be working double, I’m trying to get the idea so I won’t be overwhelmed,” he says digging into his own breakfast.

“You’re too good to me.” I say after I swallow a forkful of eggs.

“Just taking care of my girls.” He says coming to kiss my cheek softly.

Sorry this one was a little short, I didn’t know what to put in there to make it longer, I hope you enjoyed and have a great day!

[luv-y0urself]

18 headcanons for woon's 18th !

day 2 : professional woon . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

army officer!woon x fem nurse!reader , baseball player!woon x fem!reader , barista!woon x fem!reader ♫．genre : slice of life, a little bit of angst for baseball!woon... | wc : 1725 | warnings : third person pov ! usage of y/n, l/n, and noona (only for the barista one). woon is a high schooler in the baseball one, but all others he is an adult (at least 18). mentions of injuries ⏤ nothing specific except woon does receive a knee injury in the baseball one. 𖤐．second post of the series ! sorry this one is a little late; i got a little bit carried away with all of the headcanons :> make sure to let me know which one you guys like the most for the full fic on the seventh day ! more details on the masterlist linked below ↓

ᵔᴗᵔ﹕masterlist | the day before . . . [posted] ! | the next day . . . tba !

army officer woon

army officer x military nurse oh my GOD hear me out guys–

woon is a part of this regiment that often goes out on dangerous missions that often lead to many injuries, which is why the girl would know him so well.

they know each other so well to the point where if he walks in (if he’s walking in; sometime’s he’s on a stretcher with something sticking out from his leg) she recognizes his face and sighs.

“again, officer kim?”

“same ol’, same ol’, nurse l/n. fix me up so i can get out asap, yeah? i don’t like this place very much.”

“i could say the same for the field, officer kim – no need to be stingy about our workplaces.”

he merely laughs, shaking his head as he nearly collapses onto the hospital bed, clutching his wound. 

he’s in the medical room so often that she begins to speculate that he gets hurt on purpose so he can come in just to see her – and once she actually accuses him of doing so.

“officer kim,” she says.

“mm?” he has his arm over his eyes while the other is being treated; another gash from an incident that she didn’t want to know specifics about.

“do you get hurt on purpose on the field?”

he takes his arm off his eyes and looks at her like she’s crazy. “excuse me?”

“i mean, if i wasn’t as pretty as i was, i wouldn’t think so, but since i am this gorgeous, it would make sense that you would want to see me every chance you get– i… nevermind.”

he laughs heartily, looking at her with amused eyes. “oh, keep going, nurse l/n. you’re so gorgeous that what?”

“forget it.”

“oh, c’mon, don’t be like that!”

playful bickering – as all military officers do – becomes playful flirting, and before they know it, they fall in love w each other.

but there’s a big mission that’s been assigned to his unit, and he has to go. 

he pays one last visit to the medical room, and she rushes out from the supply room where she was checking inventories, her eyes conveying all the worries she has for him.

but officer kim is stoic when he says, “out of all of the worries you have right now, worries about me should be out of the question."

"i’ll be back.”

and he grabs her hand, nods his head to her, and leaves the room. her hand is heavy; she opens it up to find his dogtag with his name and birthdate written on it and a single tear falls from her eyes, praying that he comes back home safely and in one piece.

baseball player woon

i feel like woon would have been such a good baseball player… but unfortunate things have happened to him, causing his career to end early. too early, in fact.

he was on the youth national team and was so good that clubs were lining up to get ready to sign him as soon as his high school career was finished – but at the finals of his high school baseball games, a wild pitch struck him in the knee.

he had to go through surgery but his parents were often busy, which meant that his girlfriend was the one always waiting for him to come out. she had been friends with him ever since they were little, since she lived next door. his parents often told her to go back home, but she refused. she knew that he needed someone by his side, no matter how tough he might act in front of everybody else.

after his surgery ended and he was moved to his hospital room, she didn’t realize the tears that were falling from her cheeks. tears kept rolling down her cheeks as she stared at his leg, covered with bandages and all kinds of medical equipment beeping around her. she was worried – worried for his reaction to his situation, as all he ever knew about was baseball.

he was the one always pulling her out during the week to play catchball with him at the park. he was the one always begging to go to baseball games during the weekends. he was the one who had smiled the brightest when he had gotten a baseball uniform on the day he entered middle school, wearing it to sleep and placing it gently in a case that he kept in his room. 

when he wakes up from the anesthesia later in the day and sees his leg covered in all those bandages, i think it would frustrate him a lot – and scare him all at the same time.

i’ve done this for my entire life.

… but i don’t think i can do it anymore.

then what should i do?

what can i do?

“... woon–”

“i… w-why are my legs like this?”

“...”

“i can’t- i can’t move them–”

“woon…”

“it hurts, y/n, it hurts… what do i do? what am i supposed to do? can i not play baseball anymore?”

watching him break apart, crying and asking over and over again what he should do broke her heart. there was nothing she could say that would console him – there was nothing she could do that would make herself understand the pain that he was going through, because that was truly all he knew how to do.

— — —

“although your senses may not be fully restored and you may not be able to move well now, if you continue to rehabilitate and exercise, you should be able to go on with your daily life, but... i think it's better to think that you cannot play on the field anymore.”

“i can’t– i can’t play at all?”

“it seems impossible at this time.”

soon after recovering consciousness, woon’s baseball career was pronounced dead by the doctors who came by during the first rotation. woon had no choice but to accept the fact helplessly in front of the stern doctor, who told him it was impossible for him to continue playing at this stage.

— — —

“y/n.”

“mm?”

“do you think i can go to the college that you want to go to too if i started studying now?

“... of course! you can start now.”

“there has to be something i can do instead of baseball, right?”

“... of course.”

“right? …”

“you’ll be good at anything, woon. i know it.”

woon just stares blankly outside the window. 

she’s seen him for over a decade now… but she’s never seen his eyes look so empty.

barista woon

he's friends w this girl that comes to the cafe regularly during his shift – he's too shy to make a move first, but would prolly do it bc his bros told him to (probably myungjae LMFAO)

he would prob use the cup and say like a cheesy ass thing like 'ur cute can i hav ur #?' 

anywho. turns out this girl is older than him by a year or two, which makes him call her noona.

they're talking in the cafe during his free time (still platonic friends) but then the latte that she's drinking causes foam to stay on her upper lip. woon, obvi not thinking much of his actions, leans forward and brushes the foam off of her lip, his thumb warm and his touch soft. 

“noona, why're you so clumsy?” his smile is shown, and the girls heart goes crazy.

BUT the thing is that this gal already has a boyfriend!!! and she talks about him a lot w woon bc she thinks woon is a true friend :(( 

okay, but its a rainy day and woon is getting ready to close the shop. he's cleaning the tables at the cafe when he hears the all-too familiar shop bell ring behind him. 

he calls out to the person without looking: "the shop is closed right now." 

he can hear the footsteps of whoever just decided to come inside anyway and doesn’t turn around, guessing that they would just leave after a minute or two. the rain was pouring outside today, and the cafe was cozy from the heater that he had left on.

warm hands circle around his waist.

something soft falls on his shoulders, and woon freezes like a deer in headlights. he glances at the hands around his waist ⏤ female fingers? they look just like the nails that his noona had shown him a few days ago⏤

woon moves immediately, turning around in her arms, her face looking up at him. 

oh... she's drunk. 

he can smell the soju coming off of her body. how much had she drunken? woon checked the clock hung across the cafe. it was barely nine thirty... woon hurriedly pulled out a chair, gingerly helping her sit down while kneeling down in front of her. 

with his eyebrows knit tightly together, and his voice soft, he asked her calmly, "you okay?"

“woon, he…” a tear slipped down her cheek. “he broke up with me.”

woon narrowed his eyes to figure out who it was for a second before it all made sense. 

her boyfriend.

“noona, look, i…” woon pauses, watching her as she tries to stop the tears from falling before he continues to speak. “it’s okay to cry.”

almost immediately, she begins to cry, tears falling freely down her cheeks and her form crumbling. he awkwardly slides into the seat next to her and puts his arm around her, patting her back softly.

“sorry,” she began saying. “i shouldn’t be bothering you when it’s so late.”

“don’t be sorry; what are you sorry about? you’re absolutely fine.” woon watches her shaking form and his heart falls, using his warm hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks, trying to think of something that would make her feel better.

"... you know, noona, when i first saw you, i thought i fell in love," he said, reminiscing. "you were this really pretty, confident woman that lit up the room. you were never rude, and never overstepped someone's boundaries. heck, you didn't even find the note i wrote on the top of your drink weird," he added with a small chuckle.

“... see, what i'm trying to say is, basically, you're amazing. you're confident, kind, pretty, smart – you're everything a person could want from their significant other."

"it's his fault for not seeing that in you. don't blame yourself."

© luv-y0urself / 2024 | taglist : @onedoornet

[isattt]

Part 2 Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, cute little ghost :3, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

<< previous | next >>

It was late at night. You laid on your bed on your side, covered under a comforting fluffy blanket and staring at nothing in particular. After everything that happened today, you could use some sleep.

Your mind swirled with thoughts about what William said about the previous tenant. The fond manner he spoke of him must have meant they were friends. To be honest, that wouldn’t be a surprise, given how friendly William is.

Despite yourself, you wondered what could have driven the man to do it. Even if you never met him, even if you never spoke a word to him, you still felt sympathy and mournful thinking about him. 

The house was full of evidence of his existence, but you still wondered what kind of person he was. You wondered how he spent his free time, why his things were still here. Why would no one take them away to keep his memories intact?

The floor creaked again, interrupting your thoughts. You were used to the sounds now, but they still surprised you. They almost sounded like footsteps. You close your eyes with a lazy yawn, waiting for another day.

Another sound. But this time... it was different. It was the slow sound of the door opening. You stared at the empty doorway, your heart thudding against your ribcage at full alert. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” your thoughts scrambled, trying to come up with a way to rationalize everything. The window was open… the wind, maybe? The sounds were the same as usual. It was normal. It had to be.

... and there was nothing.

You sighed, realizing how silly you were acting. Sitting up on your bed, you turn your phone to illuminate the doorway, confirming your conclusion. Nothing was there.

“Greetings...” an icy breath trickles down your neck.

Your blood runs cold. You barely acknowledge what presence had made that sound before you scream, pulling back to turn around and face whoever it was.

“Kyaa!” the person screams too, falling back as well. It stares at you with a confused and startled face, reflecting your own surprise.

It was the same tall man you used to see in your dreams, sitting down on your bed. He was freakishly tall, even in a sitting position. His eyes were reddish and lifeless, and he had blood stains running down from his mouth and nose, stopping at his chest. His hair, which covered one side of his face, was sleek and straight, spilling down his face and coming at a stop near his shoulder. He’d look terrifying if it weren’t for his soft looking face.

A look of realization flashes on his face. “Oh.” The man says. His body sags and he averts his eyes to the ground. “I realize my mistake. Please forgive my manners... I should have expected this reaction,” He says, moving his hand to his chest in a timid gesture.

His voice was meek and apologetic, his face downcast like he was expecting to be chided harshly for a horrible misdeed.

He keeps his head low as he speaks, “Please forgive me for frightening you...”

“I have thought about showing myself during the daytime, but-”, he motions vaguely to his translucent body, “-I’m invisible under the light...”

His transparent form glowed with a soft blue light, enveloped in an ethereal mist. He wasn’t wearing any clothes, yet he did not look naked. It was almost as if his body was made of gas.

“Y-You are...” you stared at him, barely registering his words because of sheer shock, your heart still thudding against your ribcage, almost like it was going to break it. “The guy who lived here?”

“My name is Chester. It’s a pleasure to finally properly meet you,” he says, looking down at you from his enormous height with a worried and gentle face. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do that…”

You nod quickly, “Right, so... ghosts exist... that’s great,” you say, trying to calm your nerves as best as you can. At least he doesn’t seem to want to hurt me...

He opens his mouth to speak, “I’m a spi-” he starts, but quickly, he interrupts himself, not wanting to sound too obnoxious.

His hand, that was sitting on his lap, came to his face in a timid gesture, fingers curled up slightly to half hide his own face behind his knuckles. The slight gesture made him look even more inoffensive as his eyes avoided yours. “Oh, I will only exist for around… sixty years. It’s the span of a normal life for most.” He says, suddenly remembering your question, “It’s because of how I came to die.”

Your body releases some of its tension. It was a colossal task to be comfortable with a giant bloodied man by your bed, but somehow, you were managing it. “So you get to be a ghost because... you…”

He smiles politely, happy to see you more at ease. “Not just because of that. I get to be, um… a ghost… because I passed before I was supposed to.”

“So… Is everyone supposed to die a natural death then?” You said, keeping a safe distance from the man.

He shakes his head. “I… I don’t suppose that is the case, but that was all I was told before I came back,” Chester says. His thin arm goes back to resting in his own lap as he adjusts himself on the bed. “You know… ever since I came back… I have been so cold… but you… you are so warm…”

Something clicks inside your head. You realize... the familiar cold you felt around the house... it gathered around him. “Forgive me...” He continued, “I know my presence is not pleasant... I try to avoid you most of the day to keep you warm, but...” 

You stared at him, conflicted about how to feel about that fact. “So… that was you?” On one hand, he wasn’t dangerous, at least you hoped so, and the cold was… manageable, but on another hand he was a two meter tall, terrifying cryptid that liked to hang around your back. “What about William? He, more than anyone else, would be ecstatic to know he can still speak to you. He misses you… why stay around me instead?”

His demeanor falls. He looks down at his lap. “I know he does...” His body once again sags, wilting like a sad flower. “But I look like… like this. Like the day that he found me-” He sighs, “-I wouldn’t want him to experience it again... I fear he may resent me for it.”

He looks into your eyes, staying still in silence for a moment. “Do you truly think he wants to see me? Even after I made him witness something so... so horrifying? Can I really do it?”

You could only imagine how William felt. Finding a person dear to him in this state… it would be soul-crushing… Your head hangs low, thinking about what would be best in this situation. This isn’t easy on Chester either. You could feel his regret hanging heavily in the air.

“I am not sure actually…” You say, “Honestly… from the little I know about him… I don’t think he would ever resent you. But, since I can bet you know him better than I do, you should be the one to decide what you are going to do, Chester.” You say. It was weird, this feeling stirring inside you when you looked at him. You didn’t want him to feel hopeless again. “… if you decide you want it, I will try my best to help.”

He smiles widely, a creepy grin you were almost getting used to. He was a ghost, after all. No use judging him on being scary. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You are so kind…”

He looks back at his hands, his face falling ever so slightly. “Although right now might not be the best of times… If I may be honest, I am slightly upset at William at the moment.” He shakes his head. “B-But it’s nothing, just a small unimportant thing.”

He carefully raises his ghostly hand. You feel a shiver running down your spine when it touches your shoulder. He was looking down at you through his thin bangs. You could swear he was almost pouting, like a pleading puppy. “If it wouldn’t be a bother for you… may I please stay by your side until then…? I don’t want to be alone again…”

“Man…” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you the ghost of a victorian child or something? No need to be so formal with me, Chester. I’m not throwing salt at you for staying at your own house.” You chuckle, hoping it will lift his mood somehow.

He cocked his head, tilting it further than most people would or could. His smile somehow got even wider, almost splitting his face in half. “You are truly a magnificent person.” He said with his soft voice, his cheeks suddenly no longer so pale.

[vulcanette]

im a fan of ghost and as such am currently sleep token adjacent. ive been wanting to start listening but i have no idea about the lore or where to start. are they a religious band?

hello love!! I’m so excited that you asked!! I am sorely tempted to write out an entire in-depth guide to Sleep Token (of which I’m sure many beautiful examples already exist), but for now I will just try to get you started!

QuickStart Guide to Sleep Token:

here is their wiki page for ease of reference.

Sleep Token is a British, anonymous, masked, genre-defying/genre-blending rock band. the band is comprised of these members:

vessel (vocals, piano, guitar, bass guitar, songwriting/composition);

ii (drums, percussion, songwriting/composition);

iii (bass guitar);

iv (guitar, live harsh vocals); and

espera (live backing vocal trio).

Their current discography consists of 3 studio albums:

Sundowning (2019),

This Place Will Become Your Tomb (2021), and

Take Me Back to Eden (2023),

as well as the

One (2016) and

Two (2017) EPs;

as well as a handful of covers, singles and other goodies to discover.

to answer your question about whether they are a “religious band,” the concept behind Sleep Token is that they are a collective that serve a mysterious and ancient deity known as Sleep. The concept was explained by Vessel in his only interview, given in May of 2017:

“How we got here is as irrelevant as who we are – what matters is the music and the message. We are here to serve Sleep and project His message.”

“Life is dark. Life is bright. Life is ugly. Life is beautiful. Don’t get lost in genres, they’ll only disorientate you. Music is for everyone.”

as such, Sleep Token often remind us Followers to “worship” Sleep through concerts, referred to as Rituals, and there may be some other fun terminology for you to encounter. (Such as. Gathering, Obtaining 🤣, Reflecting, Preparing and Beholding, etc.)

my first exposure to the band was through the song “The Summoning,” off of their latest album. a lot of people came to the band through this song and through this album, so I think it’s a great jumping-off point to understand their sound and genre-bending concept.

I actually personally didn’t fully click with the band and Vessel’s unique singing style until I heard “The Night Does Not Belong to God,” and listened through the Sundowning album in full, so I will also recommend listening that way.

another great song for new fans/those interested in the band is “Alkaline,” off of their second record.

Other tracks to consider as an entry point for those who love rock and metal:

The Offering

Higher

Hypnosis

Rain

For those who are inclined toward harsh vocals I recommend:

Vore

Gods

For those who enjoy indie rock I recommend:

The Love You Want

Fall For Me

Aqua Regia

Granite

For those who enjoy trap beats, I recommend:

Descending

For those who enjoy emotionally charged storytelling in lyrics with piano accompaniment, I recommend (every song):

Blood Sport

Atlantic.

If I keep going, I will rec the entire discography. To me, the entire discography is no-skip, banger after banger. Took me a little while to click with this band but once I did they became my absolute favorite. Hope you enjoy! Happy listening!

(Of course if any ST fans want to add to this, or correct me on any mistakes, I will be happy to amend the post!)

[ghostymarni]

didn’t want to grief post on this thread, so just venting here for my own piece of mind

digital holonet entry 112824 0714hours

I’ve been on and off coping as grief does, but after seeing that post about not thinking too long about crosshair just reminded me how much I’ve kinda been avoiding drawing him.

I know I recently had a similar conversation with Lupe about this. He will always be favorite overall, but my vision for cross has artistically changed so many times because I think deep down it’s a grief truth for me that I’m struggling with. I have so many crosshair drawings I never posted because they’re just SAD. I didn’t want to turn this to a depression blog so I refrained from posting or deleted those from here.

My husband passed this summer more suddenly than I’d like to think about. He was watching season 3 without me because I was too busy with work at the time. But rewatching it after he passed had me instant hone in on crosshair + connecting the loss of my husband with the loss of tech; which gave a different part in my grief acceptance + a secondary obsession with the brilliant minded clone. It’s a reminder to hold onto everything we created and did, + to always keep thinking about him.

Crosshair returning with his brothers + not having tech there feels twice as suffering knowing what their last interaction was like. And an even deeper personal meaning knowing I see my husband in everything. In our life around us, in how I choose things, how I respond to things. (Which we see + are reminded of that tech is apart of everyone he ever met)

Self regret that we didn’t have time to have a proper last moment. It just ended. Just because you choose to accept they knew you loved them, + vise versa, doesn’t make it easier than you’ll never have them around anymore.

Which with grief, digs the vibro-blade a little deeper because you never know when your last interaction with someone is.

watching how each of them take the notion of what tech would do, picking up where he would take over. I would imagine it would catch crosshair off guard, hearing tinkering to certain data pad beeps, only to look up + see Echo fixing something, or Omega typing away. Because I literally do this with sounds I associate with my late husband.

That feeling never goes away for a loved one. His brother, his batch twin. But omega is a huge part of that healing. And she has been a huge part in mine connecting her with my kid who isn’t giving up on me + needs me. Simple intended motions go such a long way. And the scene were they’re meditating hits hard for me.

Even more so when I’m constantly shaking out my own hand to keep it under control. It’s never easy when it hits, but every scene of cross trying to get his tremors under control, is something I do more often than I care to admit. I just have to keep going.

Not seeing tech with omega, is like realizing I won’t ever see my husband with our son growing up. He’s young, + it feels more unfair. And that hurts. Crosshair is such a dynamic clone + his guilt + hurt reaches out to many people in so many different ways. Which is why I can’t think too long about him either, but he will always be my favorite overall because I see him as me.

From grief, trauma, hand tremors, loss. (if I’m being honest, I’m pretty decent at shooting actual long range rifles) there’s so much to crosshair I personally relate to, and not just his attitude haha!

Crosshair didn’t see his brother fall, but he watched another brother die in his place. An older brother that taught him a lesson he didn’t realize he needed to know until it was too late. We confirmed that from his retaliation of shooting an imperial officer, + when they returned to the deserted base; he instantly moves to set up the memorial buckets as Mayday did. A reminder of the fallen, a reminder that they existed + lived.

A lesson I have to remind myself everyday.

So what I guess I’m also trying to convey, while I see myself as crosshair, despite the grief, the false fight some days, I’ve never felt so alone than having my soulmate gone. Going from a life of fun, banter, + life for granted, to solitude and what feels like isolation.

the clone community really gave me a second chance. At me. At reconnecting with myself, my art, my humor + wit. The friendships I’ve made + are continue to make really are giving me a new fight and a new reason to just keep going.

I never share for sympathy, I don’t want to be put in a “do not interact zone”. That’s the opposite of what I need or want. I just wear my heart on my sleeve + find comfort in just being honest about struggles + how we strive to move on.

as our boy hardcase (+ echo) quote, what I try to embrace:

“LIVE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY”

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 31

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 3380

A/N: This chapter is from several different perspectives.

Warnings: The Angst is back, Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Premonition, Talk of Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 31

Even though it had happened near four in the morning, neither of you could go back to sleep. The images that bombarded Dean’s mind had his nerves on edge just as badly as if he had had the nightmare himself. He must have held you for an hour before the both of you finally made your way to the kitchen for coffee, then lots of cuddles on the couch. Calling Crowley had gone far easier than you had pictured it. 

You explained the first nightmare, then the second one, adding what Pamela had told you. At first, you weren’t sure if Crowley was going to be of any help with as silent as he got on the other end of the line. Then, he said something that brought both hope and fear. “You’ve had two, both involving Cole. I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t give you more than that before he hung up.

With a sigh and a frown, you looked up at Dean, who placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be alright,” he tried to reassure you, even with the knot in his stomach.

“It’s not fair. Why can’t they just leave me alone?” it was a question you both already knew the answer to, but neither of you wanted to speak it out loud. You were partially relieved that you didn’t know more of what was going on with Cole, but only partially.

Dean set your cup and his on the coffee table before he pulled you into full-on cuddles on the couch, something you both needed. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of the words that went through his head seemed right. The last thing he wanted to do was brush off what you were going through. —------------------------------

Crowley had spoken to Pamela the day you had visited her. Now, he was sitting in one of his studies, leaning back in the chair and sipping his drink. The computer in front of him was on, but his gaze was elsewhere. Cole had been released only a day ago. There wasn’t enough against him to hold or charge him with anything. Abaddon had made sure of that.

He was currently debating how he wanted to deal with this. It wasn’t like the authorities did anything in a timely manner, and Crowley hated red tape. “Sir, Mr. Winchester is here,” the butler stated, standing in the doorway.

“Show him in,” Crowley sighed. With Meg staying in Sioux Falls, he was down one of his best helpers. He knew Ketch could easily handle this job, but that was far riskier. Ketch had a tendency to enjoy his work far too… deeply.

After Dean’s phone call almost a week ago, Sam had been trying to help Crowley find a way to keep Cole locked up. That had led from one dead end to another. Since Cole hadn’t left any sort of paper trail, there was literally no evidence that he was anything more than a victim of what his father had started over twenty years ago.

“Alright, Crowley. What the hell is going on?” Sam demanded as he burst into the study past the butler, who hadn’t even had the opportunity to announce him.

“Nice to see you too, Moose,” Crowley muttered before sitting up. “She’s had another premonition, and Pamela confirmed it.” The bombshell hit Sam hard, causing him to sit in one of the chairs as his mind began racing. “Where’s Cole now?”

“According to my informants, he’s in Madison. His jeep is parked outside a Super Eight motel off Second Street. I’ve already confirmed that he’s there, room seven,” Crowley replied, still figuring out how he wanted to proceed and the repercussions of his options.

All Sam could do was stare at Crowley in utter disbelief. Cole’s location was only an hour from Sioux Falls. The silence stretched between the two, neither ready to speak the things circling their thoughts. “Coffee, Mr. Winchester?” the butler asked from the doorway, pulling Sam from his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered absentmindedly, then turned back to Crowley. “So, what are you doing to stop him?”

Crowley looked over at Sam, debating just what information to share and what to keep to himself, then leaned back in his chair. “I’ve already alerted the main office here. They said they would take care of it, but I don’t trust them.” He paused, taking a sip of his drink, studying Sam. “I contacted a few other places, to speed things up. Ketch will be flying out in a few hours.” Sam didn’t have to ask who Crowley contacted. There was an intricate system in place for those who had premonitions, and Pamela was well-known within that system. Ketch had already packed, and he was waiting to board his flight. His assignment was simple: follow Cole and keep Y/N and Dean safe.

“Then why am I here? You could have told me all this over the phone,” Sam finally asked Crowley, quite bluntly as the butler returned with his coffee.

For a moment, Crowley let the silence stretch between them as the tension built in the small room. It was cases like this that got to him, even if he never let it show. He had a reputation to uphold. “Pamela wanted me to pass on a message. Don’t go to Sioux Falls till after your brother’s birthday.” With a sigh, Sam leaned back in the chair. He knew what that meant. Pamela had seen something, and had been cryptic on purpose. Running a hand down his face, he sighed, lost in thought. This was supposed to have been easy. Cole was supposed to go down with his father and grandfather, but Abaddon had found enough of a loophole and gotten him released. Now, you and Dean were in danger, again. “I’ll reschedule my flight,” Sam finally mumbled out before heading for the door. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“It’ll be taken care of, one way or another,” Crowley muttered, causing Sam to pause for a brief moment before leaving. 

—-----------------------------------

When the plane touched down at the Sioux Falls airport, Ketch was attempting to stay patient. Flights always took far too long, but they were faster than driving, and right now, time was of the essence. He had wanted to follow Cole the moment he’d been released, but Crowley had forbidden it. 

Going through the airport, he paid no attention to the people passing by, living their lives in their own bubbles. Ketch was focused on his current assignment, bag slung over his shoulder. It was already early afternoon, and he still had driving to do. At least his contact was parked outside in a relatively inconspicuous black car. Ketch didn’t even bother noting its make or model as he placed his bag in the trunk and then slid into the passenger seat.

“Your rental is already at the motel, waiting,” Mick began before popping the glovebox and handing him several items. “That’s your new ID-” but Ketch cut him off.

“Just drive, Mick. I don’t have time for this. I know the drill,” Ketch’s words were pointed, taking the papers and giving them a quick once over before slipping them into the inner pocket of his suit.

Mick was more talkative than Ketch preferred, wanting to make small talk. Ketch’s focus was on his next ten moves, like in chess, letting his thoughts drown out Mick’s voice on the nearly forty-five-minute drive to his motel. He didn’t need anything fancy. He was there for an assignment, and the less conspicuous his accommodations were, the better.

A slight smirk formed when he saw the motorcycle parked in the lot outside the motel. It would serve his purpose perfectly, allowing him to go off-road if he needed to in order to follow Cole. Even as Ketch got out of the car, Mick was still talking, something about a tracking device on Cole’s Jeep. “I’m aware,” was all the reply he gave, closing the door and grabbing his bag out of the trunk. Mick sighed, then held out the key to Ketch’s room. “I think you’ll need this.”

Ketch gave him an annoyed look, grabbed the key from Mick’s hand, and went to his motel room, ignoring Mick’s amusement. The motel room was basic, but Ketch wasn’t concerned with creature comforts. He had a job to do. 

The sounds of engines came and went outside with the traffic, but his focus was on his laptop, now watching as the tracker made its way along a backroad toward Sioux Falls. With the roads Cole was choosing, Ketch made a projected route to your house. About two more hours. He glanced over at his bag as he leaned back in his chair. Time to go.

His focus was on his assignment as he made his way through town. The chill of January not bothering him through the layers of clothing he had adorned before heading out. Ketch didn’t go directly to your home. He pulled off the side of the road, heading into the forested area. This was a stealth mission. Once his bike was hidden well, he went back, covering his tracks, his tactical bag slung over his shoulder. It was well past noon, nearly evening, and the sun would be setting soon. Good. The night would be his friend. Ketch weaved through the forest toward your home, the only sound was the crunching of the leaves under his feet and the occasional bird. The trees had already lost their leaves, making the area look desolate. 

Ketch stopped just inside the treeline and pulled out his phone. Cole wasn’t far now. He turned off his phone after setting it to silent, then slipped it into one of his pockets and zipped it shut. This way, even a simple notification wouldn’t give him away. Ketch took in the area, needing to find not only a decent location to keep an eye on Cole but also a place he could easily slip inside your home if need be. 

The shed in the back was a no-go, as it was too far away from the front, and he wouldn’t have a clear line of site. The tree line was too far away, and it would take too long to get to one of the doors if Cole went inside. Ketch let his gaze fall on your home. The roof was typical for places with snow, and it clearly had an attic. Crossing the distance in quick strides, he listened carefully to the sounds that seemed to echo in the area. So far, though, no indication that Cole’s Jeep was nearby. Using your porch, he climbed up on the roof with ease, using skills he’d perfected over the years. Ketch carefully inspected the roof, finding two different ways inside if he needed to. One of those was your bedroom window, which he could easily slip down to.

Ketch crouched down, watching your driveway as the early moments of twilight set in. With you living outside the city, he could hear things for what felt like miles as they echoed off the sleeping forest. It wasn’t long after that when an engine rumbled in the distance. Ketch lifted his head slowly in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the opposite direction he had taken. Clever.

Setting his tactical bag down in front of him, he opened it, then went through the motions he’d done hundreds of times as he assembled the sniper rifle. It was only a precaution. His sidearm was what he knew he’d probably end up using. Ketch stowed the empty bag near the chimney before nestling himself behind it, watching the driveway that weaved through the forest.

—---------------------------------

Dean had heard the alarm go off, quickly making his way to the security room before you and sliding into the seat. Just as you were about to join him, having only made it to the doorway, he got right back up and blocked you from going further. “Let’s just go watch another movie,” he suggested, wanting to shield you from what was taking place outside.

You could feel that he was hiding something, his worry trickling through the connection between you. “What are you hiding from me?” It was a simple question, but your fears were creeping in again.

He sighed and pulled you into his arms. “Please, Sweetheart. Can we just go watch a movie and cuddle?” Dean asked again, and even though his tone was soft, you felt the plea within his words. 

Reluctantly, you gave in, even with that nagging fear, and let him guide you back into the living room. It had already been a long day after the nightmare you’d had, and now Ketch was here, on the roof. Dean knew that could only mean one thing- Cole was on his way. Trying to push his thoughts away, he focused on the movies, needing one that would completely distract you and him from everything. Batteries Not Included it is.

Dean steadied his emotions as he slipped the VHS into the player and joined you on the couch. You kept trying to feel what he was trying to hide, but he was doing a far better job of it than you cared to admit. Something was going on, and whatever it was, he knew. Even as the movie began playing and you snuggled against him with him holding you close, he felt… off. 

I wish you’d just tell me.

Please. Just be here with me, in this moment.

As those words whispered through your mind, that knot returned to your stomach, the fear that never seemed to truly leave you. Dean felt it, twisting his insides. Relax. We’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It took everything in him to calm his stomach, letting out several shaky breaths. You wanted to apologize but didn’t, remembering what he’d asked of you in the beginning. So, instead, you focused on the movie, on being in his arms, and how his heartbeat finally evened out in a steady rhythm. That finally allowed Dean to relax, just not all the way. He didn’t need to be in the loop to know what was going on. Cole was on his way there, for you, and Ketch had been sent to stop him. Which also meant that the authorities that were supposed to take care of this, hadn’t moved fast enough. Or, they simply hadn’t thought it was a high priority.

You allowed the movie to completely distract you, remembering how Pamela had told you that you let fear run your life. Even if it was hard, you’d been trying to push past it, to truly hope for a normal life with Dean. His presence steadied you. His embrace comforted you. And halfway through the movie, you were finally able to let go of the fear that had gripped you earlier. 

—--------------------------

Ketch watched as Cole parked twenty feet from your porch, then sat in his Jeep after turning everything off. Cole’s movements inside the Jeep were easy to watch with the overhead light on inside. He has a handgun. Ketch cocked the sniper rifle but knew he would need a damn good reason to use it. For now, neither of you were in direct harm. He watched Cole slip on a bulletproof vest, then a heavy jacket, and double-checked his gun, keeping it in hand.

Just as Cole stepped out of his Jeep, Ketch heard the sound of several vehicles in the near distance, pulling his attention to the darkness beyond the Jeep. Six sets of lights were rabidly approaching down your winding driveway. He quickly looked through the scope, keeping it trained on Cole. The moment Cole went to move back to his Jeep, Ketch fired a warning shot at the ground, effectively keeping him from going further.

Cole glared up toward the roof of your home, making Ketch smirk. He would have happily shot him, but now he wouldn’t have to. The six vehicles surrounded the Jeep and Cole before over a dozen people quickly got out with weapons drawn.

“Cole Vaught, put the gun down and put your hands behind your head,” one of the men barked the order at him. 

He did as they told him, knowing they’d shoot him without a second's hesitation. Ketch just smirked at Cole’s predicament but kept the sniper rifle trained over the man’s face. Four men rushed Cole while another retrieved his gun. With Cole in handcuffs, they hauled him toward one of the vehicles, and Ketch watched as he disappeared into the back seat. 

Ketch stayed there on your roof, even after they had driven away, one of them driving Cole’s Jeep. Silence had fallen on the area again before he disassembled his rifle and placed it back into his bag. With a disappointed sigh, he pulled out his phone, “Looks like they weren’t completely incompetent. Cole has been taken into custody.”

“Stay there for a few days, just in case. I don’t trust those people,” the voice on the other end replied before hanging up.

He had no plans of staying on your roof all night, so he made his way back to his bike and then back to the motel, already planning his next moves off of numerous possibilities. He had one job, to keep you and Dean safe.

—----------------------------

The following day, you woke to those beautiful green orbs watching you, pulling a smile to your lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down, placing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Mmmm…” you hummed, snuggling a little closer to him. “How long have you been awake?” you asked sleepily, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace.

“Not long,” he murmured, letting his hand slide down your back before finding your hip.

You tried not to let your mind wander, but his hands always felt so inviting, and he had always been so considerate that it was getting harder and harder not to let go. “Tease,” you mumbled, a bit playfully.

Dean loved mornings like this, when you were completely relaxed, and the weight of everything was far from your thoughts. You were playful, receptive, and the love in your eyes when they met his had his heart racing. That smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, tightening his grip on your hip just a little before he pulled you flush against him.

“And that’s all I’ll be, till you’re ready,” he teased before kissing you. 

When his lips met yours, you closed your eyes, getting lost in the way your emotions danced with his. You set your hand on his side, taking a deep breath through your nose, but allowed yourself to let go of everything but what you felt at that moment. His lips teased yours, occasionally letting his tongue taste you, and you didn’t pull away. He stifled a groan when you reciprocated his movements, and he shifted his body so he was lying more on his side as you let him lie you more on your back. The feeling of safety enveloped you like a warm blanket. These were the moments you wanted just to let go in, but the outside world always seemed to interfere as your phone began ringing on the nightstand.

You groaned, loudly at the interruption while Dean just sighed, lying back and staring at the ceiling, attempting to hide his frustration. It was a number you didn’t recognize but answered it anyway; it could be important.

“Hello?” you asked, sitting up in bed.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been told not to leave your home for at least four more days. Cole is in our holding facility. He’ll be transferred to the main security hold this afternoon. I’d like to meet with you today. Would it be okay if I came by?” the woman with a southern accent explained as your anxiety spiked.

“Who is this?” was all you could get out while Dean quickly shifted in the bed so he was now sitting up and as close to you as he could get.

The woman let out a sigh, “I’m Missouri. We need to meet. Pamela gave me your number.”

----------------------------------------- Chapter 32

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

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@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911

@megs-gadom @dianawinchester03 @nikimisery @cheekygirl2309 @ashleybutler

@deans-baby-momma @bobbdylan @tommysaxes @likedbygaslyy

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, mental health (mention of a past attempt), more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

We Bend

Another shitty date. Another evening wasted. More money wasted. Because she just could not let these men pay for her meal. Groaning she kicked off her shoes, adjusting her skirt in the process. Another wasted skirt on a man that couldn't even get passed the first five minutes without talking to her like she was stupid. What the fuck was wrong with her? Literally nobody had been good enough. The bar was low, but goddamn. Why the fuck was she back home at 11pm and bored out of her skull?

Heaving a weary sigh she started up the stairs, smiling the instant she heard Noah yelling in his room. That sound was all she needed to know that she was home.

Curious she peeked her head inside his cracked bedroom door, smothering a snicker as he jumped and laughed with the friends he was online with. She couldn't help but watch him in his element. Everyone said that music was what made him who he was, but as she watched him now, wearing cat ear headphones, jamming out to some Bruno Mars, she couldn't help but fall for him just a little more.

On the tips of her toes she crept forward, clicking his bedroom door shut behind her. He only ever left it open if she wasn't back by a certain time, anyway. Surely he had to have heard the door close. He had to have. Instead he jumped when she came into view, pausing his game. Without a word she climbed into his lap, settling herself where she could bury her face in the crook of his neck.

"Something came up. Gotta run." He spoke into his headset, ripping it off. “Bad date?”

“Yeah. Total dickbag.” Quinn heaved a weary sigh. “The bar is so low at this point I would settle for somebody that at least looks at me when they’re talking to me.”

Noah shifted underneath her, his arms settling around her waist. Large hands rubbed her back in soothing circles, his breathing slowly changing to match her own. He had always done that. Mirrored her in some way. It was unsettling how easily he did it, sometimes. Like it was as natural as, well, breathing.

“Try raising the bar, babe. You deserve more than that.”

Quinn shrugged. At one point she had thought so, too. But as time went on she was starting to realize that may not be true. And that maybe she was the problem.

“Don’t shrug at me. I’m right and you know it.”

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend.”

Noah chuckled as he reached up and grabbed her head to lift it off his shoulder. She knew she was being impossible and should just take the compliment. But truthfully, her confidence had been shaken years ago and she never quite got it back. He held her face there, inches from his, forcing her to look at him. His dark eyes were soft and dancing with affection as he looked at her.

“That means I’m the most qualified to say that. I know you, flaws and all. From the way you refuse to use a stupid step stool to reach up high, to the fact that you know the entire choreography to Bad Romance.”

“Uh, Lady Gaga is an icon and I find it offensive that you don’t know it,” she retorted , quirking an eyebrow.

Noah laughed, thumb gently stroking her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. Moments like this were the only ones where she felt seen. Like there was at least one person in the world that saw her for who she was and didn’t run away. Odd to think it came from a random night in a bar seven years ago.

“I also know that you’re a fucking psychopath that puts ketchup on their mac and cheese. And that you always stir your tea exactly three times clockwise, and then three more times counterclockwise. That you have a habit of leaving your bras fucking everywhere. And for some reason you put hot sauce on everything. I mean, ice cream, Quinn? I feel like normal people don’t do that.”

“Noah,” she warned. He was right, but goddamn. Did he have to be so mean about it?

“I digress. You’re also the funniest, kindest, sweetest, and most intelligent person I’ve ever met. I’ve watched you give your last dollar to someone in need. Watched you drop everything to help someone who was lost, or show up for a friend even when they didn’t show up for you. I’ve listened to you talk for hours about the ocean and all the new information coming out about previously unexplored places there.” He sighed, brows furrowing slightly as he spoke. “So, yeah. You deserve better. You deserve the world and somebody that’ll stop at nothing to give it to you. Not these little boys that you keep settling for. Raise your standards.”

Quinn froze, her breath trapped in her lungs. So that was how he saw her. As this kind person that did good things all the time. He had to know that she wasn’t a good person, though. Had to. She fucked up all the time. Took their petty arguments too far more often than not. And yet he was still sitting there looking at her like she was a saint. She didn’t know what to do. What to say.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @supersquirrel1996 @mrscevans

[venuswarmlight]

I was hoping to request a jealous Mizu x reader, like maybe she sees reader joking around with Tenzin and she gets really jealous. Idk maybe something along those lines ig. Tbh you can do whatever really, I just want some jealous Mizu x reader stuff. Sorry if this sounds too vague😓, Anyway thank you 🩷🖤

I hope I didn’t read this too late! A lot of things happened but what matters now is that I can keep writing. Hope you enjoyed it, i did it femreader bc I assumed you wanted it that way(I ALSO DIDNT FIND A GIF FOR THIS IM SO SORRY itS BEEN MONTHS I DONT USE TUMBLR)

Warnings: nsfw at the end. Not very proofread. Taigen acting like a man in the 1600’s. BAD ENGLISH.

Notes: Reader is an archer. Idk I’ll be adding more

Jealous!Mizu x Fem!Reader.

Having a mercenary girlfriend was the best thing that happened to you, from the first time you two met until now your only work was following her like a puppy through the villages and kicking asses to the ground like the badass you were, and of course the cozy nights were you both trained your fighting skills next to a lake just to end it by making out until her hands were already in your chest, desperate for blowing off some steam. Your life next to Mizu was great, yeah, but thanks to an unfortunate serious of events you weren’t the only ones in a campfire nearby that forest lake. At least for now.

“I’ll see if there’s another rabbit out there.” Mizu got up from the snowy ground, and looked at you. “Scream if Taigen gets too nosy.” She said as she dead-stared at the man sitting next to you.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.” You smiled at her and went back to polishing your arrows, while Taigen was doing literally anything but looking at you with curiosity.

After a few minutes you finally broke the ice between you and him, your voice as soft as a feather while you spoke “You’re staring, you know that?”

He immediately realized and turned his head to the campfire smoke, loosing himself in the front view. “I’m sorry, I’m just.. Surprised.” He answered later, hesitant.

“Of what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you lifted your gaze to look at him, concerned.

“Well, women like you are not usually seen in these conditions.. Much less with a man like him.” His words intrigued you, what did he meant by this? You inhaled deeply as you kept doing your work, finally storing the arrows in their respective case.

“I find myself very comfortable where I am right now, I don’t know what you m-”You were interrupted by Taigen, he turned himself getting in front of you.

“You’re too pretty to be an archer instead of living in an estate with a rich man.”

Oh. So this is what he meant. Your eyes widened and you started laughing, covering your mouth of embarrassment, honestly it was uncomfortable and out of place but you decided to take it as a compliment AND as a dare. Purposely changed the subject to avoid personal questions and scolded him, pushing him playfully. “Hey! My appearance has nothing to do with my abilities.”

Taigen chuckled, not pushing you back but being more confident with his approaching attitude. “I’m just saying the truth, you should-”

“Oh, yeah, that’s enough!” You jumped onto him, making him fall into the snow and taking him by surprise, his head bounced a bit on the ground, disoriented.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“Can’t fight a woman back? You must be shitting your pants right now, what a shame.” You spilled, sarcastically, but that dominance fell when he grabbed your hands placed in his chest and used it as a support to push you to the right, shifting positions, now his body was topping you, his hands immobilizing yours by pressing hard on your upper torso.

“Not bad.. But still not as good as me.” He proudly said, suddenly you kicked his butt with your knee from the back, making him loose his strength in your wrists, you repeated his last movement, ending again in how you started that silly fight, your giggles and laughters filled the forest’s natural sounds, and suddenly you totally forgot that Mizu could come back anytime and find you two in this compromising position.

You and Taigen struggled there for a few minutes, what he thought that would be a stupid kid’s fight turned into a challenge, even if it didn’t look like it, he started recognizing how.. Incredible you were, your smooth but hard blows, the little screams you made when you felt like you were gonna loose, now he understood.

How lucky Mizu was for having a girl like you.

You finished the fight by enlazing your fingers with an iron grip around his neck, and your other hand threatening his face with your fist, but you forgot that Taigen’s hands were still free. He grabbed your waist and managed to make you fall on your back as he stood up from the ground and made you loose your grip on his neck, his legs immobilizing yours and his hands putting your wrists above your head, his uncontrolled breathing crashing against your nose as he laughed. “Defeated.”

Before you could answer, you saw a third person kick Taigen’s body from the side, just in the ribs, making him fall to the ground, almost burning his whole body next to the campfire, you sat up quick and looked at him first, then looked up at your side, a tall figure with a dead bunny grabbed by the ears in front of you, those blue unsettling eyes staring at you with the coldest countenance. You knew right there and then she was mad as hell.

“Training without me?” Mizu got on her knees to the campfire to roast the rabbit, not caring about Taigen’s prolly broken rib (not really). You stood up to clean your clothes and sit next to her, nervous. You weren’t doing anything wrong, but still.

“We were just playing.” You excused yourself, trying to make her look at you, but no. She was ignoring you.

Instead of answering, her gaze turned out to Taigen, who was struggling to recover from that fucking kick that hurt as hell. “You’re getting too comfortable here, aren’t you?” Her tone was noticeably passive-aggressive, her grip on the roasting stick was tightening.

“That wasn’t fucking necessary! Fuck, it hurts..” He yelled, finally sitting a bit far from you two, you could feel the tension building heavier and thicker in the ambiance.

It was so uncomfortable you felt like you had to go. “I’m gonna wash my hands before eating, I won’t be long.” You got up to escape the funeral situation you were just in, but a hand grabbed yours, making you stop, you looked back with concern, Mizu was behind you with that angry gaze, sending shivers down your spine.

“It’s too dark to go alone.” She said, then looked at Taigen “Take care of the dinner, don’t screw it up.” He was about to talk but instantly shut his mouth like he knew if he talked he could end up dead.

You tried to forget her toxic behavior as you two disappeared yourselves into the woods, the moonlight making the path for both, the silence feeding your ‘I’m fucked’ thoughts and increasing more when you felt her grip on your hand tightening, she ended up dragging you to a not so far place, finally letting out your hand. The only thing you could look was her back and her little black bun.

“What was that?” She spat, aggressively turning herself and hoovering over you.

“I told you we were just playing.“You stepped back, but unconventionally bumped with a tree behind you, before you could realize, Mizu had you cornered, your chest rising and falling against hers as she looked down at you.

“It didn’t look like it.” And the jigsaw puzzles connected in your head. She was jealous.

“Are you doing this because you’re-”

”Maybe. Seeing my dove pinned down by a bald monkey it’s not funny.” Her words were sharp, you didn’t even know how to answer.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek, making her gaze softened as she looked at you. “You’re the only one in my heart.” You whispered, dragging her closer to your face, her hands traveling down your curves and grabbing your hips tightly, your heat already increasing its temperature as it mets her knee, rubbing your core tentatively.

“I still want to fuck that pretty smile outta’ you.” Her lips attacked you like an animal, making you whimper and moan against her watery mouth, her knee making you hump on it desperately and your inner thoughts begging for mercy cause’ this night was going to hit you hard and long.