#how am i supposed to live with myself knowing the right to my own body is threatened at every turn

[p0ckykiss]

i'd do it all again (if it was with you) - jeon jungkook

summary -> jungkook is faced with a tough decision, and you just want the best for him.

warnings -> angst, zombie apocalypse, major character death

jungkook slams the door behind him, throwing his body weight onto the rickety wood. his chest is on fire and his breathing is erratic. he looks across to see you in a similar state in front of him and grimaces.

the two of you are sticky with blood and sweat, just barely escaping a horde of undead with their bodies unscathed. jungkook sinks down, now sitting against the door. he takes in the state you are in, both of your chests still heaving from the chase.

“y/n that was fucking insane!” jungkook exclaims, a glimmer of relief flashes in his eyes. your expression remains vacant. jungkook continues on in enthusiasm .

“we were fucking amazing, that was such a close call, holy shit,” he groans in pain, but is quickly replaced with excitement, probably from the residual adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“jung-”

“they almost had us! It was so close, but luckily we pulled through,” he’s almost laughing at this point, voice heightening in pitch.

“listen, I-”

“and near the end? when that one almost got me? fuck and then you pulled tha-”

“I got bit.” you deadpan. jungkook falls silent, staring at you like you just grew a second head.

you lift your left arm, just above your elbow, a bite the size of a tennis ball sat disgustingly. jungkook’s body goes numb and suddenly it’s so hard to breathe. he continues to stare at the wound for what feels like an eternity, shaking his head in disbelief.

“no, no no no no no no no no no.” jungkook repeats, now standing from the door, pacing in circles in the cramped bunker. he runs his hands through his hair in panic, aggressively pulling at the roots. frankly, jungkook has no idea what to do. he knew that it was always a possibility for one of them to get bitten, but he always thought it would be him, not you, and he sure as hell didn’t think it would happen anytime soon. fuck, this couldn’t be happening. a whine from you interrupts jungkook’s thoughts.

“listen to me, gguk, you know what to do.” you say between breaths, you groan as you reach at your waist, pulling out a small handgun. your head leans back, and you blindly shove the device toward jungkook.

jungkook’s world is spinning. he feels disgusted. the adrenaline from earlier quickly clears out and is replaced with a dismal dread that eats away at his mind.

“this wasn’t supposed to happen to you, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. oh my god y/n, I’m so sorry, ohmygod.” jungkook’s words collide into one another in a jumbled mess of gibbering panic. his breaths are erratic and rushed as he sobs violently. he still hasn’t grabbed the gun from you. 

“this is my fault, gguk,I wasn’t careful. I guess you were right, I am gonna get myself killed one day,” you laugh, referring to jungkook constantly patronizing you for your recklessness on the field.

you both go silent for a moment, and all jungkook wants to do is vomit. this couldn’t be happening. you were doing so well, you could’ve lived through this. you were supposed to be happy. he laughs audibly, feeling so stupid for even thinking he’d be given the luxury. now, his whole world was laid on the metal floor of a rickety old bunker, in god knows where, with a deadly bite on your arm.

“just fucking do it, put me out of my fucking misery, jungkook.” you pause for a moment, breathing deeply before continuing.

“I don’t know how much longer I have.” jungkook legs give up on him and he collapses to the floor.

he reaches towards the metal contraption with shaky hands. jungkook’s handled guns plenty of times, loves the rush of it, but now, he’s never felt more disgusted with himself. the device felt heavy in his hands, he feels bile rising in his throat. he didn’t know if it was because it was the gun y/n never let him touch, the one you prided yourself in owning, or if it was because he was about to kill the love of his life. probably the latter.

he stands up once again, head pounding with pain. his body is sore, and he can’t feel his legs, yet he manages to stand straight. grimacing, he cocks the gun back, pointing it to you. you look up at jungkook, and smile.

“working with you,” your words cut off with a pained groan. jungkook’s lip quivers.

“…made everything worth it, all the pain,” you cough out violently, trails of blood following suit before continuing. “I’d do it all again… if it was with you.”

“keep living, for me. you have to.” you speak up one more time, choking between your words. “I love you… so much, kook.”

looking away from you, he shuts his eyes, and jungkook feels his soul tear as a deafening shot rips through the air.

[fandom-blackhole]

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[skrunksthatwunk]

not to doomer post. but. american politics is like here's a conservative warmonger who wants to burn you alive personally and here's a different conservative warmonger who definitely wouldn't stop someone from burning you alive BUT who might raise the minimum wage by $0.30/hour for you, but only like eight years from now (so re-elect me please!! >w<). yes one of them has to be president they are the only two options we'll let you have. no neither of them will stop the government from killing you or anyone else, but at least one will say "it's kind of bad to kill people :( someone should really do something about that..." while giving the people-killers $20,000,000,000,000 to keep doing it then saying they can't afford to help you at all, but oh shucks, maybe next cycle, if you vote for me again! and also everyone will pretend as though they are extremely different political entities covering two highly polarized ends of the political spectrum despite nearly identical policy views obscured by their slightly different ways of addressing their target audiences, many of whom are also conservative warmongers. and also if you don't vote or vote third party the other guy will win and you will watch as they burn everyone you love alive in the same way they've burned so many strangers so you kind of feel like you have to vote for the other warmonger because even though they both have blood on their hands you'll take a handshake over an uppercut. even if you can still see the bodies piling up behind them. even if you can only save like five people you know and not the thousands of people who are dying in the other room. because you believe the difference between 30,000 and 30,005 is still worth it even though no one needed to die in the first place and no one seems to agree with you. you have to keep living in this world every day. if anything changes it will take decades and it will never be enough. if this takes a toll on you good fucking luck surviving off the generosity of the warmonger state that claims to serve you. happy voting!!

[thewitchblue]

"Do you mind if I sit there?"

You ask Damian innocently while gesturing to his lap. Damian raised a confused eyebrow at you. He was lounging on the couch of your apartment after breaking in despite him having a key. He said in confusion,

"That's my lap, beloved."

You give an acknowledging hum before saying,

"That's not an answer, lovebird."

Damian blushes but quickly looks away while murmuring,

"You...I...I suppose you may..."

You happily make your way to him and lie gently on top of him to feel his warm body against yours and close your eyes with a content smile, finally content in his lap. He slowly snakes his arms around your waist, shifting slightly to make you both more comfortable. You kiss his flustered cheeks with a soft smile on your face.

"Is this payback for breaking in instead of using the spare key you gave me?"

He asks after a moment of silence. Clearly, his brain was trying to wrap around why you suddenly wanted to lie on top of him. You shake your head with a fond smile on your face.

"You're more comfortable than the couch. I swear it's like your body heat is a heated blanket or a hot water bottle."

You look up to look at his face only to meet your very confused and very flustered boyfriend. You lightly kiss his chest before going back to cuddling him.

"I didn't realise you were cold. I would've given one of the hoodies you stole from me or a blanket."

You kiss his shoulder gently. You can tell that he's still getting used to the physical contact, but you're determined and patient.

"Am I not allowed to want to be in the arms of my darling boyfriend?"

You question with raised eyebrows. He blinked rapidly, as if he didn't expect that answer. It breaks your heart to think about all those years he lived without such love that he now overthinks every time you hold his hand or hug him. He continues inquisitively,

"Beloved, you have never once asked if you can lie on top of me."

You laugh, which makes his arms wrap tighter around you. Your hands rest on his chest as you relax against him. You admit softly,

"I like listening to your heartbeat. It's soothing, especially when I get anxious or stressed."

His hand traces patterns on your back while he kisses the top of your head. He asked,

"Did you have a stressful day?"

His concern melted your heart further. You shake my head, placing kisses along his collarbone.

"Despite finding out someone broke into my home only to discover it was my own boyfriend? Not really."

He clicks his tongue but gives into his laughter once yours starts. It's ridiculous, really, how cute he is. You softly say,

"You're so cute, lovebird."

His green eyes seem to gleam like emeralds in the warm lighting as he looks down at you. There was so much unfiltered love and adoration on his face that it leaves you breathless. He pouts, simply replying,

"Cute? I'm a trained assassin turned vigilante."

You click your tongue. You sarcastically reply,

"Oh yes, you have me quaking in fear."

His laughter rings through the otherwise silent apartment with your own laughter following shortly after. He gently flickers your nose with his fingers, making you bite said fingers lightly.

"I have taken down Superman by myself. You have every right to fear me."

You huff an amused laugh. Your eyelids are already starting to grow heavy as his warmth seems to be all-encompassing. It doesn't escape you that you're in probably the safest pair of arms in all of Gothem.

"Are you sleeping over, lovebird?"

You ask while you trace slow patterns on his chest, trying desperately to stay awake despite his calm heartbeat luring you closer and closer to sleep. His hum rumbles through his chest. You can tell he's torn between going back to the manor or staying the night with you. You are still a secret from his family. After a moment, he compromises,

"I'll stay until you fall asleep, beloved."

Pouting, you accept what you can get. You know his hero responsibilities call to him, but it was nice to have some time, just the two of you.

"I love you, Dami..."

You murmur, sleep slowly taking hold of you.

"I love you too, my treasure."

He whispers back to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. You soon subcome to sleep, knowing you're safe in the arms of your vigilante boyfriend.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[feral-ballad]

“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.

This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.

During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.

But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.

This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.

This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.

This is all that is left of that picture now.

I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.

I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.

I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?

I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,

Help.

I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.

It should be in your knowledge that:

It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.

Thank you.”

[olivianyx]

OMGG I JUST GOT RESULTS WITHOUT BEATING MYSELF UP WITH ROUTINES 😭 + RANT ✨

HEYY LUVS! I JUST WANNA SHARE MY RESULTS I MANIFESTED WITHIN 2-3 DAYS! THIS YEAR'S GONNA BE MY BEST YEAR Y'ALL ✋AND GUESS WHAT I DID? NOTHING. LITERALLY NOTHING. NUH-UH. PERIODT.

⚠ LONG POST AHEAD, SWEARING ⚠

WHAT I MANIFESTED:

🪄 PASSING MY FRESHMAN YEAR WITH HIGH SCORES

🪄 MY FAMILY BOUGHT A NEW APARTMENT WHICH WERE PREPARING TO MOVE IN 3 WEEKS

🪄 ME GETTING INTO THE VOID STATE 😭 AND MANIFESTED CLEAR SKIN! (DAYUM GETTING INTO THE VOID IS DEFO VERY EASY OMGG)

🪄 GETTING LESS ANXIOUS LATELY!

🪄 MY GASTRITIS AND ULCERITIS GETTING CURED

🪄 GETTING MORE COMPLIMENTS IN MY UNI!

🪄 GETTING TALLER! I WENT FROM 5'3" TO 5'7" IN 2 DAYS 😭😭

🪄 GETTING DREAMS OF ME SHIFTING TO MY WR 🥺 (ACTUALLY RESPAWNING LOL, AS THIS THING IS REALLY CONTROVERSIAL IN HERE, PLEASE DON'T GET ME CANCELLED- I'M DOING DEATHLESS RESPAWNING ✋)

🪄 MY MIND IS SURPRISINGLY CALM 😌 THERE'S STILL INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS THO (THOSE ARE ANNOYING ASS BITCHES) BUT I JUST IGNORE EM LIKE I IGNORE PEOPLE AT SCHOOL 🗿

🪄 GOT MANY CONFESSIONS TOO 😭 AND I REJECTED EM ALL, CUS I JUST WANT TO BE SINGLE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE ✋🗿 JK

🪄 GETTING COOL CLOTHES THAT MY MOM DENIED A LOTTA TIMES! (ACTUALLY I'VE ORDERED EM BUT STILL HAVEN'T SHIPPED TO MY ADDRESS YET LOL)

🪄 MY CRUSH BECOMING CLOSE TO ME HEHE 🤭 LIKE SHE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ME MUCH, BUT LATELY SHE'S BEEN TOO CLOSE TO ME AND ALWAYS WANNA BE WITH ME LOL, 3 DAYS BACK SHE AND I WALKED HOME TOGETHER, WHILE WE GRABBED SOME SNACKS, SPOKE ABT EACH OTHER AND ALL (I FELT LIKE BEING IN A SHOUJO MANGA 😩)

🪄 A NEW PHONE! THAT SAMSUNG GALAXY S22 😩

I MANIFESTED EVERYTHING WITHIN 3 DAYS 😭 I REALLY CAN'T BELIEVE MY EYES, JUST. 3. FUCKING. DAYS. GODDAMMIT.

HOW I DID IT:

JUST FULFILLED IT IN MY IMAGINATION

YEP, YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT. I LIVED IN THE 4D REALITY, I NEVER GAVE A SHIT ABOUT THE 3D AT ALL. OK LEMME BREAK IT DOWN FOR Y'ALL SO JUST PAY ATTENTION FROM HERE ONWARDS.

🪄 SUPPOSE SOMETHING UNDESIRABLE OR UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES ARE HAPPENING IN YOUR 3D. WHO'S THE CAUSE FOR THAT? YOU. 'BUT I DIDN'T IMAGINE OR THINK OF THESE 😭' BABY, YOU'RE THE SOLE CAUSE, EFFECT, AND THE SOLUTION. THERE'S NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO THIS.

🪄 AS WE ALL KNOW, 3D IS A MIRROR. RIGHT? WHATEVER YOU THINK ABOUT, YOUR ASSUMPTIONS, YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR PERSPECTIVE EVERYTHING WILL BE REFLECTED. SO WHY NOT THINK THE WAY YOU WANT SO YOU CAN EXPERIENCE THE SAME? GET IT.

🪄 IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE THE 3D, CHANGE YOUR 4D FIRST. CHANGE YOUR PERSPECTIVE TO HOW YOUR DESIRED SELF WOULD SEE THE WORLD. KEEP DWELLING IN IT. IF THE 3D SHOWS UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, DON'T FUCKING GET TRIGGERED. GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION AND DENY YOUR SENSES.

🪄 EVERYTIME YOU SEE SOMETHING ELSE IN THE 3D, GO 'BRUHH THIS IS MY OLD STORY, I ALREADY HAVE WHAT I WANT, THIS IS JUST FAKE' AND MOVE ON. DISTRACT YOURSELF. CUS THE 3D WORLD WHICH YOU SEE IS AN ILLUSION, IT'S NOT REAL. IT'S YOUR CREATION, WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO CONTROL WHAT YOU CREATED? IT'S ALREADY IN CONTROL. YOU ONLY GOTTA REALISE YOUR GODSELF. YOU ARE THE CREATOR, NOT THE CREATION. STOP FUCKING VICTIMIZING YOURSELF.

🪄 I GET IT THAT MOST OF THE PEOPLE ARE CONFUSED BETWEEN LAW OF ASSUMPTION AND NON DUALISM. EVEN I WAS, BUT SLOWLY I REALISED THAT WE'RE ALL NOTHING. WE'RE JUST LIVING IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. VICTIMIZING OURSELVES IN OUR OWN CREATIONS. IRONIC RIGHT?

🪄 THOSE THOUGHTS, ANXIETY, FEELINGS, EMOTIONS ARE ALL IN YOUR PHYSICAL REALM. YOUR MIND, YOUR BODY, YOUR EGO EVERYTHING IS NO REAL, WE ASSUME IT TO BE. WE'RE ARE SHAPELESS, FORMLESS, WE'RE NOTHING! AND EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME. CUS EVERYTHING COMES DOWN TO ONE THING, I AM.

🪄 K Y'ALL MIGHT BE SUPER CONFUSED, WHAT I'M TRYNA INFUSE IN YOUR BRAINS. SO WHAT YOU DO IS, LIVE IN YOUR 4D.HOW? IMAGINATION. NO MATTER WHAT YOU SEE IN YOUR 3D, GO BACK TO YOUR IMAGINATION, AFFIRM OR VISUALISE. ANYTHING IS FINE BTW. JUST STAY IN THE STATE OF WISH FULFILLED.

🪄 STOP RELYING ON METHODS, FUCK THEM. JUST BE. DON'T TRY TO CHANGE SOMETHING WHEN YOU ALREADY HAVE THEM. JUST STOP, SURRENDER, STOP FIGHTING, STOP TRYING SO HARD WHEN YOUR ALREADY IT. SO GO LIVE IN YOUR IMAGINATION, FULLY SURRENDER. DO THINGS WHICH YOU LIKE. GO LIVE YOUR LIFE. TAKE YOUR POWER BACK.

LIKE AREN'T YOU TIRED? TRAPPED IN YOUR OWN CREATIONS? YOU CREATED THEM, YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE WHATEVER. TELL ME HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA LIVE THIS BULLSHIT LIFE? YOU'RE REALLY GETTING COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE. SO LISTEN UP, DO WHAT YOU LOVE, AFFIRM, VISUALISE, OR DAYDREAM, ZONE OUT, WHATEVER. ALL I DID WAS DO THIS MEDITATION IN THE MORNING, WENT ABOUT MY DAY WATCHING JUJUTSU KAISEN LMAO. THEN RANDOMLY AFFIRM, LIVED IN MY 4D, NEVER PAYED ANY FUCKING ATTENTION TO MY 3D, CUS I'M GOD. I REALLY LOVE VISUALISING, SO I PUT ON A SONG AND START DAYDREAMING IN MY ROOM SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT. ALSO, I DID SATS BEFORE GOING TO BED. THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL I DID FOR 3 FUCKING DAYS, AND GOT WHAT EVER I WANT. ALSO I MADE A CUSTOM TAPE TOO (IT'S A GENERAL SELF CONCEPT ONE) I LISTENED TO IT FOR 30 MINS AND JUST WENT ABOUT MY DAY THINKING I HAD WHATEVER I FUCKING DESIRE, CUS IT'S ALL MY CREATIONS AND I HAVE IT ALREADY. THERE'S NOTHING TO GET, IT'S ALREADY IN ME.

LUV YOU, BYE 💋

[heaven4lostgirls]

I deserve better (A.H)

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warning: angst, breakups, mentions of haley's death, reader is compared to haley, breakdowns, aaron has healing to do</3

summary: aaron comes home from a hard case with his decision already made, he's in for a very rude awakening when reader sees right through his bs.

word count: 1.5k

There was a loneliness in the air that felt almost palpable after your breakup with Aaron. It felt like an amalgamation of every broken promise and empty silences you both sat in, trying to grasp onto invisible strings surrounding your love. If you thought hard enough, you could almost clearly imagine what used to be his breathing when he used to lie on the now cold side of the bed. His presence haunted every empty corner of your now prodigious apartment.

You closed your eyes in the dark as your mind unwillingly drifted to the conversation with your now ex-boyfriend.      The sound of the door opening to Aaron’s home made you look away from the television as you waited with bated breath and a smile to see your boyfriend, only the expression he held on his face when your gazes met was one you knew you would commit to memory. Guilt, anguish. Probably worse if you had bothered to push deeper but you knew that you couldn’t do that yourself.

“Aaron?” your voice echoes in the living room and all he can do is hesitate, you watch as his hands shake as he places his badge, gun and bag down before making his way to you, his steps purposeful yet cautious and deep down you knew that whatever he was going to say was going to change the trajectory of your relationship.

“Hey” he whispers as he sits on the opposite end of the couch which only cements your worries, maybe he’s finally decided that him and Jack didn’t need another addition to their family, maybe he’s decided he’s had enough of you. “We need to talk” he starts, and your only response is a small nod as your underlying anxiety bubbles under your skin like a festering wound.

 “This- This case, it really made me realise something.” He starts and you can already feel your expression shifting from worry to confusion, he must recognise your own emotions as you do his as he continues swiftly. “The unsub mentioned you when we caught him, he knew your name” he says harshly and you look at him shocked, why hadn’t he told you any of this when you’d called him after he had wrapped up the case? “I promised myself when Haley passed away that I would never put someone I cared about in the position to be used against me” he says and your heart drops.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask out of genuine curiosity. He closes his eyes and clenches his hands into fists, “I think you know.” He croaks out and you scoff which only causes him to look at you  in confusion, “You’re being selfish” you bite out and he looks alarmed at the harsh words. “You’re not even letting me choose what I want to do about my OWN safety?” you ask harshly but soft enough as to not wake Jack up.

 He’s shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence, “you don’t get it!” he insists as he implores you understand what he’s saying. “you-you’ve never had to hold your d-dead wife’s body in your hands, wishing for her to come back, wishing you could tell her how much she means to you” he insists as his eyes well with tears and your heart drops at his confession.

“And I hope I never have to feel that, but Aaron you can’t keep taking your grief out on our relationship, I  know it hurts, but how  am I supposed to think you’re ending this for me when you’re putting Haley first even in death?” you whisper and against your own better judgement, you feel a few tears fall from your eyes.

“That-That is NOT what is happening.” He says again and you can see the frustration boiling over for him, “That’s not fair to me Aaron, you know that” you say, and you watch as confusion shifts on his features, “Wait no hold on, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“You didn’t have to. I always thought you’d meant in a constructive way for me, consistently telling me when I make Jack’s meals that it’s not the way Haley would’ve made it, when you tell me not to buy certain perfumes and body washes because it reminded you too much of Haley. But now I realise that you’ve been carrying this dead weight after her death, and it’s not fair for me to be carrying it with you. I will never replace Haley, but I do know that I deserve a lot more than being compared to her everyday just because you haven’t dealt with your grief.”

“Honey, hold on, just wait please-”

“I was going to fight for you Aaron , truly.  I came into this conversation thinking of ways to help you not give up on us, but I can’t do that when the one thing pushing you is a woman I can never compete with.”

Aaron looks distraught and your heart feels simultaneously lighter and broken at the same time, His healing needed to take priority and you knew that his journey didn’t necessarily have space for you. And that was okay, at the end of the day the one thing you had always wished was to see Aaron Hotchner happy, and if that meant he had to do it without you, you would deal.

“I love you” he says, his eyes begging you to believe him, and your lips lift at his statement, as they’ve done a million times before, a force of habit. You shift closer to him and grasp his hand in yours as you place your other one on his face. His eyes close at the contact and he starts shaking his head, “Don’t- don’t do this right now. Please don’t do this Y/N.” his voice cracks.

Your lips quivers and you attempt to move your hand to smother the sob building in your chest but as your hand lifts off of his cheek his eyes are open wide, alarmed to feel you slipping away and he grasps you closer to him, looking into your eyes wildly as you look into his eyes, hoping all of your love is shining through them. “You know I have to.” You whisper and his expression is pained as he feels your hands run through his hair.

“I  can’t do this without you” he confesses as he chokes on his tears, his hands grasping to your hips and arms as though you’d disappear if he looked away. “You’re going to be just fine, I promise” you say, and he shakes his head before the sobs escape him and he leans his head into your body as sobs wrack through his body. Warbled cries of “I’m sorry” flood from him and all you can do is hold him through it, hoping it  brings him some form of comfort.

You console him until he tires himself out, he looks so much more peaceful when he’s asleep, his furrowed brow is smoothed out and if not for the tear tracks running down his cheeks you would never be able to know how much pain he was just in. You manoeuvre him to lay on the couch, a suitable enough pillow under his head and a soft blanket covering him. Your hand still lays outstretched in his grip, and you bite your lip as you try to let him let go.

As  soon as your hand leaves his grip, he’s  whimpering and grasping for some form of contact from you, you quickly snatch one of Jack’s teddy bears from the floor and you place it within his grasp, he grasps it almost immediately and holds it close to his chest. Your eyes mist over and you take a few minutes to breathe deeply and once calm, you quickly plan.

You take an old overnight bag you used to use before you started staying for weekends, such as this one. You pack the clothes you use the most and some work essentials before packing up your toiletries and everything else that can fit in your car. Everything looks so immensely empty when all your stuff is gone, with a quick little kiss to Jack’s cheek, you switch on your car, and you drive the route to your apartment.

In the silence and solace of your car, you allow yourself to break, sobs wrack through your body and your scream and cry as you make the drive to your place. You break again when you see the emptiness and coldness of your apartment, there’s none of Jack’s drawings on the fridge, none of Aarons past case files on the dining table, none of their shoes at the entrance and none of everything of what you loved and missed dearly.

Which brings you to now, in your bed, unable to look at the other side usually occupied by an Aaron sized lump. You don’t sleep, when the sun starts rising and coming through your room, you don’t move. When your alarm goes off at 7AM, you don’t move. When Aaron’s name flashes on your screen with multiple unanswered calls, you don’t move. You eventually get  up to go to work and exist throughout the day.

Nobody asks you what’s wrong and you don’t divulge, you know it will take you a long time to feel okay enough to even see Aaron again but for now, you can mourn and think of what could have been as you learn how to live without half of yourself.

[boredpotate]

Happier Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any music, just this concept idea.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but has unforeseen consequences.

??? Pov

Running. It's all I have on my mind right now. Get away. Get far away from that thing. I can still hear the few people left standing fighting. Shots being fired, screams of pain and a brawl happening. Damn it. This was supposed to be a secure place. The boss said so himself.

I hear as the fighting ends in the distance behind me, but I keep running anyway. Not chancing it. Not with this person. I need to report to Simon and le-

*BANG*

"AAAGH!!!"

An immense and sudden pain shoots through my leg, causing me to fall over onto the ground.

"FUCK! fuck! shit! fuck!" I yell out swears to the skies as I grab my leg onto my leg. I don't have time cope with the fact that I just got shot in the fucking leg, because I know they're coming. I see their silhouette through the smog. One arm raised in my direction and the barrel of a handgun I can't make out facing towards me, and a shovel being held in the other dripping with what is most likely blood. I push through the pain and force myself up to limp myself to an alleyway as they shoot in my direction and use the wall as a support. They're messing with me.

'Why me!? We aren't even in their territory! We made sure of it!,' I continue on and take many turns to try to loose them and holding onto my leg wound to lessen the blood dripping, 'I just need to get to the light. They never come out of this hole.'

I start becoming more aware of the pain as I continue moving, but ignore it to keep my pace steady. Some hope rises as I look back to see nothing, but just as I turn back around I am met with a boot to my chest. I feel the wind get knocked out of me as I hit the ground, my vision dazed from the back of my head being hit as well.

I look up already knowing who it is standing in front of me, but I never thought I'd be one of their victims. Boots, ragged pants, shovel hanging from their hip on one side with a holster on the other side, some dirty jacket with some kind of body armor underneath and an enforcer gas mask with a one of the old miner helmets. Always covering their face. Always a bad omen for any gang that's hunkering down here.

"Please! I do- AAGH!" I yell in pain as they stomp on my wound. I then feel myself be yanked up by my collar before getting slammed into the wall.

"Talk."

"Listen I don't know anything you want! I was only put in charge of that warehouse!"

"Bullshit, that's what the last guy said before he confessed about you. He said you report to your boss and I want to know where he is."

'Of course she does. Another gang leader being tracked down by this crazy bit-.' my thoughts are interrupted by being pistol whipped across my nose.

"Fuck! Please, I really don't know! I only report to a guy named Simon, but he's not the boss! You saw the place I was in; it was hardly secure at all!", I plead to them, hoping for some mercy. They stare at me for a second before letting out a breath of frustration.

I am yanked forward and thrown onto the ground. I flip over and find myself looking up at them as they stand over me; my eyes staring down the barrel.

"NO! PLEASE, I TOLD YOU ALL I KNOW!"

"You want to beg? After all the lives you've taken and ruined ever since you moved into this area? Be happy I don't make it slower."

"WA-"

Then there was nothings.

Reader Pov

'Another fucking dead end.' I think to myself in frustration as I holster my revolver.

I take a minute to finally catch a breather before checking for anything useful on this guy and the others at the warehouse. Once I'm done I decide to go track down this Simon guy next. It's been nothing but this constant cycle for the past eight years.

"At least everything is going good up above. From what I hear at least." I say to myself, trying to look on the bright side of things. Ironic considering how I'm in what is now the shittiest part of the Undercity. It's been awhile since I've left this area, and since I've seen them.

Last time I left, it was to go witness that historic speech on the bridge. They did it. Vander and Silco finally accomplished their dream, and now Zaun has become a better place. So much light and the whole mood of the town is different too. Much more happy. Just like what I dreamt about, but I don't go over there. I can't.

There's enforcers that will most likely think I'm up to something, it's too bright to hide, not crowded enough to blend in anywhere and honestly I just don't really fit in with this new Zaun anymore. Not their fault, it's me that's the problem. Everyone dresses so nice, clean and casual along with how nice the community has become. Then there's me. I look like I crawled out of a dumpster or came back from an apocalypse..... honestly the latter isn't too inaccurate considering what almost happened originally. Probably also the reason why people usually leave me alone and gives me looks sometimes. I look weird compared to everyone else.

Though even with everything I still do my part. Just because most of Zaun has become better doesn't mean there isn't any who didn't like the idea of Piltover and Zaun making peace. Mostly gangs. Since enforcers were able to do their jobs easier the gangs have been pushed down here with me. I've been taking out as many as I could, and nipping the bud of one's that start growing. Especially the one's I knew were aiming for Vander and SIlco. No mercy. Like that one group who tried to recruit me to, I quote "Rebel and takeover Piltover for the true Zuauites." what a bunch of weirdos. Though this most recent one I've been working on is giving me trouble.

They were the only smart one's to stay under the radar when I first started the purge of gangs down here and only recently have been making bigger moves. They aren't too big yet, but if I don't dismantle them they could cause trouble. Turns out that would be harder than I expected. Every time I get pointed to one person, that person points me to someone else and the cycle continues. I'm no detective either, so I'm getting nowhere with the way things are going.

'It's fine. Something will come up eventually,' I try to reassure myself on my way home. It helps a little. Still tired. Kinda hungry too, 'I need to find a way to money.'

Making money the old way wasn't as easy anymore. Not many people that need "jobs" done, and not a lot of people who need to hire a merc for anything anymore. Most of the mercenaries either used their money to leave or joined up with the enforcers for some good and reliable pay with benefits. Can't blame them. Either my line of business is almost dead, or I'm one of the last one's still keeping it alive. Zaun doesn't need mercs like me anymore. That's good.

*stomach grumbles*

*sigh* "I really gotta make more money. Maybe I can pick up some small jobs here and there. Deliver mail to people or something." I reach into my jacket and pull out my journal. I don't write anything in it, but I do draw.

I turn to my most recent sketch and touch up on some details, another one of Jinx. I can't help, but remember. Sometimes I dream of all that happened. I try to put it behind me, but it's hard. They're scarred into my mind, but they remind me why I do this.

"Always stubborn about your hair. Even when I warned you how it can cause trouble in a fight, you insisted." I say to myself as I draw her braided hair. Took forever to braid them, but she loved. Honestly she made them look good.

I smile. Taking a moment to forget about the world and get lost in something else.

'Hopefully this, Simon, has better info.'

3rd Person

Meanwhile above ground across the bridge. A certain investigation in being looked into. With an ongoing interrogation happening.

"Do you really think we're that stupid?" Vi asks the woman sitting across the room from her and her partner. Both in crime and..... other things.

"Yeah."

Vi shoots forward and ready to lunge, but is quickly stopped by Caitlyn who leans into her ear.

"Calm down, Vi. She wants you to get upset." she says while holding onto one of Vi's shoulders to comfort her. Though she does understand her frustration.

Ever since they've been looking into a recently bold gang, they've hardly gotten anywhere. She takes a moment to make sure Vi has calmed down before turning back to the woman in questioning.

"I understand that you have no reason to help us, bu-."

"No shit. I get thrown behind bars and then pulled out for questioning about a gang, I'm not even a part of."

"But. We really need something here. If you cooperate we could negotiate with reducing your sentencing. Your records show you have been improving and haven't caused trouble, but we can only do that if you work with us." Caitlyn explains, trying to negotiate some kind of deal for some information.

The woman slightly relaxes before shaking her head with a sigh.

"Listen girl, I told you before. I really don't know anything about this gang. All I know is what I told you. They used to be small and kept to themselves and they've grown."

Caitlyn scowls, not at the woman, but down at the table in front of her. Another dead end.

"But.... you could try asking the hound." the woman suggests, which catches Caitlyn's attention, but Vi scoffs.

"We already asked my dad. He's not really involved with that stuff anymore, and his contacts have been out of that kind of business for awhile."

"Not Vander. The new one down in the deep end of the Undercity." this catches Vi's interest now.

"A new hound? Let me guess, another wannabe big shot?"

"No. This one's the real deal. Has been making a name for themselves for a few years now. Ever since most of the gangs got pushed back down deep into the Undercity; ever wondered what happened to all those old gangs eight years ago? Bloodhound took them out one by one." the woman explains, her tone lined with admiration and respect. Caitlyn raises a brow at the name.

"Bloodhound?"

"That's what people call them. No one I've met knows their name or has seen their face."

With things moving in a good direction, Vi sits down next to Caitlyn at the table.

"I assumed all the gangs just died out after peace was made. So what? They some gang leader or something?"

"No, but they do have a small territory. All to themselves. They got a lot of respect down there. You remember that weird group two years ago? Dressed all rugged and called themselves "True Zaunites"? They idolized Bloodhound; tried to dress like them too. Then one day they went into their territory and tried make them their leader, but ended up coming back beaten black and blue. The guy who was leading the group got a bullet through his skull."

Caitlyn looks skeptical and glances at Vi, who also looks to have some doubt about this "Bloodhound". The inmate notices and shrugs her shoulders.

"I know, sounds weird but it's true. The point is, they hunt down gangs. You want someone with info, then try them."

"How do we contact them?"

"I don't know. Last people who tried was that weird group. Now a lot of 'em are too scared to go back down there."

This brings some, not a lot, but some hope to Vi and Caitlyn to this investigation. Better than nothing. Caitlyn stands up before holding out a hand towards the inmate.

"Thank you for your time and the information. I'll be sure to put in a good word for your cooperation, maybe even get you on probation."

"No problem. Not like I had a choice in coming here. You better not be bullshitting me about that deal." the inmate says as she takes Caitlyn's hand.

Caitlyn nods before turning around to leave, Vi already holding the door open for her. Caitlyn wordlessly signals the two enforcers standing outside to escort the inmate back to her cell before walking with Vi.

"So this "Bloodhound", you think they're legit?"

"I don't know. But we don't have any other leads on this case. My mother trusted us with this case Vi, we can't just give up." Caitlyn says with hints of frustration in her voice.

"Hey, I'm not saying we give up, Cupcake. I was just wanting to hear your thoughts."

"I-I know. I'm sorry. It's just, I don't wan-."

"AH. You don't need to apologize Cupcake. I get it. Don't wanna disappoint parents, trust me, I understand," Vi says reassuringly which makes Cait stop, "What?"

"I love you." she says with a smile before giving Vi a peck on the cheek, making said Pink haired girl blush like a tomato.

"I-I love you too, Cupcake. .....Ahem a-anyway, I don't know if going to find this guy will work. I was thinking maybe we could go see my dad instead. He might know someone who can get in touch with this guy. Plus, I think he'd like to know that there's another "Hound" in the Undercity." Vi says as she wraps an arm around Caitlyn's shoulders to hold her close.

"That sounds nice."

Powder Pov

"So you want me to see if I can get someone to talk to this guy that you two need to talk to."

"I know. It sounds sketchy, bu-." Vi was saying until Benzo cuts in.

"Are ye kidding!? Vander! We gotta see this kid. Running around using your title; they must be a fan! How have I not heard of this guy before!?" Benzo says, poking fun at dad since apparently he has some copycat or something.

"I second that!" Mylo says, making Claggor shake his head with a chuckle.

Dad rolls his eyes, but still has a smile on his face.

"Technically not the same. They're called "Bloodhound"." Cait says, but slight smirk still on her face with Vi wearing one to match.

'Might as well join in on the fun.'

"I don't know if that's a good idea. They might want his autograph." I say with my own cheeky smirk. Leaning into Ekko, as he writes in his book of projects, sitting at the bar with everyone.

"Alright, alright. I get it. I might have some people who still owe me a favor or two," Dad says, as he wipes down a glass behind the bar, "One condition. They gotta meet you two here."

"YES!" Benzo yells in elation, but Vi doesn't look that happy.

"Here!? Dad seriously this person could cause trouble and this place isn't like that anymore." Vi says, but Dad doesn't look like he's budging.

"I'm being serious too. I've heard stuff hear and there about them and I don't want you two going down there alone. I know you two can handle yourselves, but if anything I've heard is somewhat true then this isn't like any other thug or gang leader." Dad says, which makes Vi back down.

'Damn. Now I'm interested.'

"Are you sure they would even come here?" Caitlyn asks a pretty reasonable question.

"Pretty sure. From what I hear they've been getting into shootouts with the gang recently. Probably hunting them down too."

"That isn't a guarantee though. What if they don't show up?"

"If they don't then show up, then they don't show up. They wouldn't have been help even if you went down looking for them, you'd probably just gonna end up in a fight."

'Fair point, honestly.'

Cait looks to Vi, who sighs as a sign of surrendering.

"Fine. How soon can you get someone to talk to them?"

"Today."

Cait looks surprised which makes Dad shrug.

"I got good contacts."

"Good. I guess tomorrow in the afternoon? Does that sound fine?" Vi asks, looking at Cait for confirmation which she gets via a nod.

As the conversation shifts to something else, I look at Ekko as he continues to scribble in his notebook.

"What do you think?" I ask him which makes him stop writing for a second.

"About "Bloodhound"," he asks and I give a simple nod, "Sounds a little fishy. Sounds like one of those people still stuck in the old times of crime everywhere."

"It doesn't sound like they are. They did supposedly take out that one weird group of "True Zaunites"; honestly those people were so stupid." I say with a small laugh, Ekko chuckling a little at the mention of that bizarre group of people.

'The speeches those guys made in the streets were insane.'

"Still, doesn't sound like good company. Why would they want to stay in the deep part of the Undercity? Zaun has become so much better over the years."

"Maybe..... they're afraid to move forward. Don't wanna lose what they have now." I say, honestly projecting more about myself than what I actually think.

'They could just be a psycho.'

I feel Ekko's arm come up to my waist before pulling me in closer as he sets down his pencil.

"Powder. I know it's not easy, but I really do think you could do a lot of amazing things. I know you're afraid of things changing, but..... sometimes taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind."

"I-I just.... I don't know. I just need some time to think about it." I say, avoiding the topic of what I want to do in life, looking away just staring at the details of the bar counter.

"Okay..... just know I'm here for you Powder. Nothing will change that." Ekko says, supporting and sweet as always, which makes me smile.

"Thanks." I say before giving a small kiss on the cheek.

"No thanks needed."

We sit at the bar in a comfortable silence as my mind wanders.

'Tomorrow should be an interesting day.'

The Next Day.

Deep in the Undercity the infamous Bloodhound stands in the middle of the street, farther than usual from their territory. What is usually a busy street is now completely empty with only Y/n standing there by herself, and facing towards the brighter side of Zaun.

People peak out from their homes through blinds. People who looked like they were about to step outside immediately turn around to lock themselves inside. Others who were making there way down the street immediately turns right around to take a detour around.

All of them had the same questions on their minds.

Why are they here? What are they up to? Is a fight about to happen? Is someone about to die? Are the meeting up with someone here?

.....Also why are they just standing in the middle of the street?

Reader Pov

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit! This is, SO! FUCKING! BAD!', I internally panic as I stand in the middle of the street.

Yesterday right after getting some intel from that Simon guy I got a message from some guy. Literally right after. I just tackled that fucker out of the second floor of his shitty bar when he tried stabbing me after getting information out of him. Then I turned and there they were. Staring in shock. Anyway that doesn't matter.

What really matters is the fact that Vander wanted me to come to The Last Drop. I couldn't even ask why because before I could they ran away.

'Why!? What did I do!? Am I in trouble!? I didn't even do anything!'

I'm not supposed to meet them, but how am I supposed to ignore a call from Vander. From Dad. So I forced myself out of bed and I only made it this far before getting too scared. I feel rooted to the ground. I'm scared. I'm scared to see them after so long, even if it's just to talk or something.

"What if I mess this all up?," I ask myself. Trying to decide whether or not it's worth risking all of the good things that have happened to Zaun over the years, "What if I cause a butterfly effect and ruin everything?"

But then there's that other part of me. Desperate and longing to see how my family has been after so long of isolating myself down here alone.

I stand still in contemplation for another minute before finally taking a step forward.

"One time couldn't hurt. Just this once."

Hope you enjoyed. Sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

[boinday]

The God and The Devil

Just a little folk-gothic about loneliness, the countryside, and keeping a cat. For the spooky season! 1.8k words ^_^ (Copyright Bóín Day 2024)

---------

There's a fire in the garden. Again.

I step outside, careful to close the sliding glass door behind me so Cock Robin can't get out. He prowls the length of the glass with performative indifference, pretending he only follows so far to rub his whiskers against the doorframe. Pretending not to notice the orange flames spitting up into the blue-dark twilight sky.

I take the watering can, already full, from the patio and walk to the center of the garden, where the effigy burns. It is bigger than the last one. About as tall as my knee. I douse it before it catches in the dry summer grass.

Our cottage is in the middle of County Leitrim. In that typical part of Leitrim where nothing really is. I bought it because I could afford it, derelict and rotting as it was, surrounded by a sea of disused fields, twenty kilometers from the nearest shop. It still cost more than my parents' first home; a restored Victorian townhouse purchased in the eighties. I do what I can with the cottage. Funnel all my earnings into making it habitable. Close off the rooms that drive me into despair. I think I got Cock Robin because I was lonely. Or because he was lonely. I can't remember which.

I remember I found him quite endearing at the shelter, though. He is a peculiar shade of brown for a cat – almost chocolatey – with a striking ginger breast by contrast. His eyes are yellow, and suspicious. He's large and fat, and maligned by a snaggletooth that gives him a permanent sneer. Despite his unfortunate face, he is docile, cuddly, and a formidable companion. I don't blame him completely for what's happened, though he must think I do. Why else would he be confined to the house, he thinks. Why else would his dear mother jail him.

Cock Robin, for all his lazy mornings and babyish ways, is a talented and voracious hunter. I never exactly approved of him catching mice, but I suppose I tacitly endorsed it by allowing him outside, into the fields where he was undoubtedly the apex predator. At first I would only find pieces of the mice: a half body, a dismembered foot, an internal organ licked clean of blood.

But as Cock Robin acclimatised to the good life of being a kept cat, and gradually grew rounder from tinned tuna and cold cuts of chicken, he must have grown bored with the taste of mice. Because more and more often, he would bring them home alive.

He would bring them home alive, and with them stunned and confused between his careful teeth, he would howl for my attention. Once I would rise from whatever task I was at, he would wait for me to approach, present his quarry, and kill it in front of me. People say this is a cat's way of teaching hapless humans how to hunt, and perhaps they are right. But from the way Cock Robin would proudly deposit the poor creature on the step, whole but for the killing wounds, and bounce along to the cupboard where he knows I keep his treats, I think this ritual is more akin to a crude, kitty capitalism.

'I have rendered you the service for which our two species coexist,' Cock Robin says with his closed eyes and loud purr. 'Now I shall collect my fee.'

I don't like to watch things die. Even spiders, which I hate, I can't bring myself to kill. Even indoor plants, which are a chore to keep, I endeavour to save from my own habitual neglect. And now even mice, already trapped in the jaws of death, I am compelled by my conscience to rescue. Cock Robin objects to my charity, but he is stupid enough to trust my approach whenever he has some poor living thing in his maw, and once I am close enough, I grab him. Sometimes he drops them instinctively when he hears my stern demands, and sometimes I must pry his mouth open, but he always gives up without much fight.

The difficulty then is re-catching the mouse. I keep gardening gloves by the sliding door for this task, now. If they are sufficiently traumatized, I can simply scoop them up, walk to one of the neighbouring fields, and gently release them into the long grass. If they are lucid, though, they jump away; run, climb, scramble for their life. Those times are harder – especially if Cock Robin is still in the room. But I always catch them. Once they're out of his teeth, I find a way to cup them, grab them, cradle them. Out they go to the fields. Alive to survive another day.

I must have caught at least a dozen mice when the first gift appeared. I didn't know it was a gift then, of course. It was four raspberries, piled together on the doormat. I'm sure I thought it was odd at the time, but I simply picked them up and set them on a fence-post for the birds.

A few days later there were twenty raspberries. A whole punnet's worth. I certainly thought that was odd, and it ignited some paranoia in me. There are no other houses in sight of my cottage, only fields. Not even cattle graze there, so there is little cause for anyone to come out as far as my place on the quiet country road. I fretted about axe wielding maniacs, countryside bandits, the sort of nightmarish characters you might hear about on a True Crime podcast. Of course, as far as threats go, raspberries are a tame and obscure one. Hardly worth calling the Gards over. I think I mentioned it to some friends, and they laughed like I was crazy. I think I laughed too. I didn't want to be crazy.

The raspberries continued to appear for weeks, sometimes with a whole apple rolled into the mix, sometimes ornately arranged among picked daisies and buttercups. I tried to ignore them. Hoped if they rotted on the step, that would send a message. But the damaged, old raspberries were removed in the night, and replenished with fresh ones by morning.

At a certain point, I decided it was best to just wait up. I drank three cups of coffee and, with heart pounding and carving knife in hand, sat in the perfect dark of my kitchen, and waited.

It was just before dawn when I saw them. I'd imagined every manner of strange or dangerous person, - I'd spent the night staring at the middle of the glass door, the height you would expect a person to stand - and so I almost missed them. The tiny, moving bumps of darkness scuttling along the ground towards the door. It looked like the patio stones had come to life, and were rippling towards the cottage in little waves.

I stood and approached. Quite a stupid thing to do, in retrospect, but I did it anyway. I could see them in their droves: hundreds of mice removing the old, imperfect fruit and rolling in the new. Some of them carried the flowers in teams of two or three. I crouched slowly by the glass door, enraptured by their industrious energy. By the sophistication of the endeavour.

One of them must have noticed me, and the noticing spread, because almost instantly the bustling and bumbling little bodies went still. I went still as well. It was relatively dark out, the sky just lightening to a gloomy blue, but I could tell they were looking at me. Then, in another wave of collective movement, their bodies stretched upward – stretched towards the heavens, tiny front paws raised above their mousey heads – and then fell down again. Prostrating themselves on the ground.

I watched the motion repeat several times, paws stretching skyward, then falling back down, before I realised I was watching some strange, cultish worship. They were bowing to me. They were bowing to me.

I ran away, as any rational person would. I closed myself into my bedroom with Cock Robin, who was sleeping none the wiser. And I thought about how truly impossible it is to keep a mouse out of your home, if the mouse has a mind to get in.

It was the following week that Cock Robin was attacked. He came in from the fields, mewling in a pitiful manner I'd never heard from him before. There was a piece of wood lodged in his right eye, about as big as a toothpick. I rushed him to the vet. They couldn't save the eye. An unfortunate accident, they supposed. A mishap while Cock Robin was climbing through a hedge. We agreed he ought to be an indoor cat from then on.

Now they've taken a liking to effigies.

I kick through the smoldering remains of this latest one. Their understanding of human proportions has certainly improved. I see they've stitched leaves together with plant fiber and bug silk to simulate clothing. I wonder how they learned to light the wood. I wonder if this is what we looked like, too, when man discovered fire.

I look up the length of the garden to my rotten little cottage. Cock Robin is sitting politely behind the glass door, watching me through his surviving eye, tail ticking away in simmering upset. He wants to be out here, I know. He wants to exercise his divine wrath.

I wonder, as well, how they make sense of us. It seems impossible to me, that they cannot know how dearly I love Cock Robin. How I infinitely prefer him to any little mouse, no matter what mercy my conscience mandates. How he sleeps beside me, inside the cottage that is so alien and fortified compared to the world of empty fields around it. I suppose it is a contradiction inherent, that they should give me tribute while reviling the cat I openly adore.

I suppose that even God adored Lucifer, once.

I stomp out the last of the embers and wriggle my phone out of my pocket. I've been photographing these things, for posterity – not that anyone would believe them. It would be written off as some natural phenomenon, or AI fakery, or perhaps they'd simply say I'm lying. I photograph it anyway.

Trudging back towards my cottage, I turn on the phone's flashlight. This is a newly formed habit. I hold the light above my head and sweep it over the neighbouring field, in an arc. Tiny pinpricks of light glow back at me. An ocean of beady eyes, watching in the darkness.

I shout at them to go away, please. I say that I have nothing for them, and thank them for their worship but I'd really rather they just move on. There's no response. There never is. They cannot understand my prayers. I am too huge and powerful to be understood. But still, I pray.

[justalia]

stop assigning meaning to the physical world.

stop assigning meaning to something that is only reflecting you.

it is always reflecting what you have inside, constantly and continuously.

the 3D should arise no interest in you.

you gave it to yourself in imagination and that’s MORE than enough. you have it. you declared it to be yours.

the 3D is not manifesting, it has no power and since your body, your brain, your thoughts belong to the human flesh version of you they have no power.

yes, you read that right.

it is not your human version manifesting, it is not your human body and not your brain since like everything else physical it belongs to the 3D.

alia in her physical human form can only TRY to manifest.

the 3D is powerless and so it’s your human body. it is powerless. it can’t do anything,

it can’t make anything happen.

you CANNOT manifest with your human brain.

your human body and all the emotions and thoughts attached to it are just there. they belong to the 3D and are powerless UNLESS YOU (THE INNER MAN, GOD WITHIN YOU) GIVE THEM POWER.

your human self is pathetically powerless. stop giving it so much power by being scared of your own thoughts, emotions and feelings.

YOU aka THE INNER MAN, PURE CONSCIOUSNESS are giving them power.

YOU ARE GOD.

god does not exist outside of you, manifestation is what prayer is because god exists INSIDE of you. it is within you.

it gets me so frustrated when i see people asking me if having it in imagination is enough. and it’s not because i don’t feel for you or i think you’re dumb af (sometimes i do lmao) but it’s because I KNOW how tired you are I KNOOOOWWWWWW how much it sucks to be in this state of trying.

BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SO FUCKING TIRED.

i was constantly in a war in my own mind thinking i had to change my thoughts or constantly look for a specific feeling/emotion. i was SO tired of being scared in my own mind, it’s truly the worst thing ever because there’s no escape. if you feel trapped and scared and you’re constantly trying to prove yourself in YOUR OWN mind THERE IS NO PEACE. there is no escape and you don’t know what to do.

there is no escape because our imagination is all we got and ever will have and if we make that our hell you’re gonna live a miserable miserable life.

i was SO tired of being triggered by the 3D and blaming myself for what i was seeing, i was in a constant self-sabotaging cycle. i was looking outside for permission to just believe when everything is within, even permission to just believe it yes! that’s within you!

and i was wondering what was i doing wrong.. well, news flash alia if you’re tired you’re not in the state you want to be.

i knew manifestation wasn’t supposed to be tiring, i studied my shit! i knew it! but i still found myself trapped in my own mind.

i decided i had to be honest with myself, i had to stop excuses and reason on why and how i was supposed to believe.

“why am i seeing the opposite? why am i seeing just movement and not my full manifestation?”

did you ever really shift your state?

be honest.

be honest with yourself because you don’t gain nothing by lying to yourself.

“well… i feel like i’m doing it right but i still cannot see my manifestation”

are you doing it right? are you?

are you doing it right if you’re acknowledging your manifestation isn’t real just because it isn’t physical?

“i don’t understand why did the opposite happen what am i doing wrong?”

why are you acknowledging the 3D as the real reality? why are you taking ANYTHING the 3D shows you as fact?

did you sit with the concept that imagination/consciousness is the only reality?

did you internalize it?

because if you did you wouldn’t be bothered at all by ANYTHING the 3D is showing you EVER.

no, not even the “positive” things should faze you.

why do you care what the physical world shows you if it literally means nothing?

the 3D is never gonna fulfill you on its own.

that sp coming in, that money in your account, that dream body in the mirror, that dream face, that job is NEVER gonna fulfill you.

YES! NEVER! THE 3D WILL NEVER FULFILL YOU.

harsh truth?

well, it’s the truth.

you could have your sp telling you how much they love you and you could still not believe them.

you could look in the mirror and have that dream body or dream face and still find A MILLION things you want to change and be insecure of yourself.

you could have that dream career and still feel like a failure.

you could have a million dollars in your bank account and still feel financially insecure and unhappy.

why?

because we are always living in imagination no matter what the physical world is showing you.

look back at your life and tell me i’m wrong.

personal examples:

*TW: mention of ED experiences*

i remember when i was a teen i had what some would consider a “dream body” and i still felt ugly, fat and had an eating disorder.

i used to gain and lose weight continuously because i was NEVER satisfied with how i looked, i wanted to be skinny but i was never skinny enough. i wanted to be pretty but i was never pretty enough.

there was ALWAYS something i could change and improve.

i had people complimenting me on my body and on my face, did i care?

did i care even ONE bit?

no i didn’t. no matter how close i was to the beauty standard i was NEVER satisfied with my appearance because i wasn’t accepting it inside.

i believed what I WANTED TO BELIEVE AS TRUE IN IMAGINATION.

yes, i had people telling me “omg you lost so much weight, you’re so skinny!” and i looked in the mirror and still thought “i’m so fat, just a few more pounds and i’ll be satisfied”.

spoiler: i wasn’t.

clearly this is not a fun circumstance to be in and it is mental health we’re talking about but i can make less harsh examples.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

my sp was PURSUING ME and i still saw her as a liar and a manipulator because of my trust issues.

i had her telling me “i want you so bad these other girls are nothing compared to you” and i was whining to my best friend and complaining about how i “simply could not trust her”…

you may ask me “wtf is wrong w you alia why did you think that?”

and idk what to tell you tbh i just trusted “my gut” (aka my imagination 💀) because in my mind there was no way she could be genuine…

poor thing never even did me wrong and i still trusted my imagination so strongly disregarding every cute thing she was telling me.

to the point i was telling her i didn’t wanna be with her and we could never be together because i could never trust her (i had made up in my mind this persona for her that proved to me she was unloyal and not trustworthy) and she would reply to me things like “why the fuck do you not believe me” or “why the fuck do you not want me” and then when she acted according to my script by ignoring me (obviously she would ignore me tf cause eiypo aside why would she want to entertain someone that says “i don’t want you”) i would be like “there you go, i knew it”.

this is funny now because i can see how i always blindly trusted my imagination and had blind faith in it being FACT when it came to the negative things.

if it’s that easy for the negative stuff why would it be any harder for the positive stuff?

why?

because you think that good things never come easy?

because YOU think that you need to work hard to get the good stuff?

who is thinking that?

YOU!

who is making up that assumption?

YOU!

the physical world WILL NEVER be able to provide enough proof for you to believe you are who you want to be unless YOU believe it.

you can’t reason your way into faith and it’s true because i CONSCIOUSLY applied the law properly multiple times (gave myself more than enough proof that this shit works) and still found myself in this state because the proof is never enough if you don’t JUST believe.

read this thread i made:

faith is KEY idk how else to tell you, faith in yourself is the ONLY thing you truly NEED. when you don’t believe that you have what you want simply because you said it you are sinning because YOU ARE GOD.

by lacking faith in yourself you lack faith in god. you are sinning.

i know you want to drop the need to have it in the 3D, i know that deep down you’re desperate to drop the need for it and just believe that having it in imagination is enough.

i know how you are feeling exactly.

you are desperately looking for permission and proof to just believe when you actually should JUST do it.

it’s always gonna be a leap of faith, faith isn’t built, it isn’t something you create, it is something you surrender to.

“but if i stop wanting in the 3D will it ever show up?”

you shouldn’t give a shit about when, if, or how the 3D conforms to what you have inside if you truly and DEEPLY understand that imagination is the only reality.

asking yourself if the 3D will conform if you drop the need for it is batshit crazy bc again THIS IS HOW THE WORLD WORKS.

IMAGINATION EXPRESSED IS ALL THE WORLD IS!!!!

THE PHYSICAL WORLD IS JUST IMAGINATION.

asking yourself if the 3D will conform is the same thing as asking yourself if the apple will fall to the ground if you drop it.

yes, you read that right.

law of assumption is just as real as the law of gravity.

it’s how the world works whether you believe it or not.

idk how else to tell you this but please just allow yourself to surrender, give yourself permission to believe in imagination being the only reality and not needing it in its physical form. because at the end of the day the 3D being “positive” does not equal to true fulfillment.

allow yourself to feel the peace of having it for the sake of feeling good.

give permission to yourself.

“but what if it doesn’t work?”

yeah what if?

what’s the worst that’s gonna happen?

you not getting what you want and that’s the same exact miserable life you’re living now.

now that we’ve established that you have nothing to lose by just believing give yourself permission to do exactly that.

just have faith.

hold your own damn hand.

[megumiluvv]

Dad’s Best Friend

Cont: dad’s best friend!Nanami x (ADULT)fem!reader, protected sex (yay Nanami!), cunnilingus (kinda), mentions of aftercare, mentions of daddy issues (real), Nanami calls you princess most of the time, praise kink

Word count: 1300 exactly (I’m cool like that)

Masterlist

A/n: this was half written in my notes app?? And reader still lives with her dad, but he’s rarely around because of work. Happy birthday Nanami!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3 ignore any grammar mistakes, they’re not real.

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Thinking about how Nanami, your dad’s best friend, who has known you only around 6 years, but is always there for you. When you break up with a partner or make the Honor Roll at school, he’s always there to hold you close when you cry or to applaud you in the audience. How he was there more than his best friend, your own father, was for you your entire life in just a few years.

You may not admit it, but he was your first love, you think he’s your soulmate. No one else gets you like Kento. Especially when it comes to the things you like. He can read you like an open book. He wants to know all of you like the back of his hand, but fears you don’t feel the same way. You know him more than your dad does, since he offers to hang out with you while your dad works long hours through the week. You two have gotten to know each other a lot.

So it makes sense when one day, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of a year because he cheated on you, Kento let’s you cry in his arms, whispering soft “I’ve got you”’s and “don’t stress over dumb boys who can’t keep it in their pants”’s. You look up at him with the latter comment and wipe a couple of tears from your face.

“I hate men who do that…” you whisper, voice shaking from crying.

“Those boys aren’t men, men know how to treat women right,” he whispers back, giving you a loving look as he wipes your tears for you.

You can’t help but feel a twinge of desire at his words and look up at him.

“What does that make you?” You ask. Kento pauses for a few seconds and lifts you off his lap so he can stand.

“How about I show you what a man is supposed to be like?” He whispers, taking your hand and leading you to your room. You can feel the desire warming both of your bodies as you willingly follow him. “On the bed, baby,” he whispers, shutting your door gently as you slowly crawl onto your own bed. He sits down and sits you on his lap, gently caressing your body.

“I want to know you more than I know myself, not just your thoughts and personality, but your body too,” he whispers, looking at you for your consent. You swallow hard at his words, nodding and silently begging for him to do something. He gently grabs your face and kisses you, letting you melt into his touch and kiss before gently pulling away.

“Was that too weird?”

You laugh a little, blushing profusely at his genuine question. “No, Kento. Not too weird,” you giggle, smiling genuinely.

“Good. Because I plan to make you forget about that little cheating brat you called a boyfriend for a year,” he says before gently pulling you into a more passionate kiss.

Your tongues clash and you moan into the older male’s mouth, his hands tangling into your hair. He grunts and hums into your mouth, hands never staying still, moving from your hair to your body, meeting every desire you’ve had for him and he’s secretly had for you.

“Can’t get enough of you, dear,” he mumbles into your ear and grinds you against him. You gasp as his hips tilt just right against your skirt, rubbing your clit so sweetly.

“Kento, god, that feels good…”

“Good, princess, want you to feel good. I’m not being too greedy, am I?”

“No, not at all. Want more, actually,” you whisper against his lips.

He grins and starts to undress you and you help, lifting your hips when he pulls off your skirt.

“So pretty, princess, let’s not tell your father, yeah?” He smiles and plants kisses on the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone.

You gasp softly and lightly scratch at his back, helping undress himself and watching as he lays you back. He gives you a look, double checking that you want this. You nod and spread your legs, and he places his head between your thighs, lightly kissing as he slowly pulls off your panties.

You let out a soft hum as he starts to lap at your wet cunt, your arousal on his tongue making him groan against your clit.

“Kento, that feels good,” you whisper and card your fingers through his hair.

He hums in response and makes sure that you’re wet enough down there then reluctantly unlatches himself from your needy clit and hole. He unbuckles his pants and pulls off his pants and boxers in a clean swoop, searching for a condom and carefully putting it on, your eyes watching his every move, seeming a little too eager.

“You excited, princess?” He smiles and feels up your sides with his free hand while the other grinds the rubber against your soaked cunt for a makeshift lube.

You hum in agreement and nod. “You have no idea, I’ve always found you attractive, Kento.”

“Same goes for you, princess.”

He slowly slides himself in, pausing every few seconds to let you adjust to his size and to feel you stretch around him.

“You’re doing good, princess. I’m almost fully in.” He kisses your neck gently and traces your nipples to get you to loosen up a bit. You feel him bottom out inside you and let out a groan against your neck.

“God, Kento, you’re amazing.” You moan softly into his ear.

“Haven’t even got to the fun part and you’re praising me, princess?”

He smiles and slowly pulls his hips back almost all the way, then pushes back in, angling his hips to hit just right and make you moan out.

“There we are, princess, you’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, the praise making you a little dizzy as he continues to slowly thrust and graze just right against your g-spot.

Your relationship with your dad is a little rocky, so hearing praise and validation from his best friend makes you even more pliant under the blonde’s touch.

“I can take more now.” You moan softly into his ear and grasp at his shoulders as Nanami picks up the pace.

He constantly hits just right against your g-spot and brings you close to your orgasm really fast. He feels you tightening up and laughs through a moan.

“Close, princess?”

“Mhm, please, Kento, I need it…”

“Who am I to deny my girl?”

His girl. You are his girl. The words push you over the edge and you whine out his name in a sharp gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, more intense than any you’ve had with your shitty ex. You almost forgot that he was the reason you got to fuck Nanami.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the overstimulation that follows after you come down from your high, Nanami drilling himself a bit faster and chasing his own orgasm, whispering breathy praises to you as you whine and claw at his back.

“I know it’s a lot, princess, I just- fuck, I need to cum too. You’re doing so good for me, princess, just hold on- fuck- yeah, just scratch at my back, I’m- fuuck…” he groans and stills his hips as he cums into the rubber condom wrapped around his now-softening dick.

He slowly pulls out and removes the condom, laying next to you and holding you close.

“We need to clean ourselves up, princess,” he mumbles and kisses your forehead.

You groan and bury into him. “Five more minutesss…”

He chuckles and rubs your back, his free hand running through your hair as he whispers sweet praises and compliments to you.

“Fine, five more minutes…”

[soobinskii]

sub!leehan drabble (req)

warnings: fem!reader, degradation (leehan receiving), finger sucking, one mention of leehan's full name, leehan drools.

💌 : i don't know how i feel about this one, i hope it lives up to your expectations anon!! it's my first time writing dom!reader..

"please.. i need you.." donghyun whimpers in your ear, running his hands down your sides as you finish washing a few dishes. you sigh softly, making him aware of your displeasure and shut the water off, drying off your hands as you feel him start to kiss the back of your neck while grinding his hips against your ass. " 'm really sorry.. i jus' can't take it anymore. i've been so patient for you" he slurs his words into your neck. you turn around in his hold, grab his jaw and pull his face to where your noses are so close to touching. leehan's eyes sparkle as he looks at you, his cheeks heat up as he watches you glare at him.

"go sit on the couch, i'll deal with you in one moment. if you don't wait, you're not getting shit. do you understand?" you say in a firm voice, yet barely above a whisper. he visibly shudders, you see his cock twitch through his pants while starting to create a small stain through the grey fabric. you raise your eyebrow at him, awaiting his answer. leehan opens his mouth to protest but quickly nods and scrambles to go to the couch.

you finish placing the dishes into their spots and decide that you've made your sweet boyfriend wait enough. you walk into the living room and see him laying on his stomach while resting his head on his arms. you quickly realize what he's doing.. "kim donghyun!" you call his name and he darts upright, looking at you with teary eyes and pouty lips. "are you humping my couch? like some slut in heat?" you look at him with feigned disgust. he whimpers and shakes his head, trying to lie yet knowing he's already been caught.

you walk over to leehan and stand right in front of him. "are you serious right now?" you ask, while getting on your knees. he looks like he could cry any moment, the desire burning through his veins and overwhelming him. "i'm sorry.. 'm sorry. it hurts! what else am i supposed to do?" he pouts while running his hand through his hair. you roll your eyes and scoff at him while moving to pull his cock out of his sweatpants. "you have no shame.."

he whimpers as you spit on the tip of his dick, getting ready to give him a handjob. you make eye contact with him the entire time, watching all of his facial expressions as you start working your hand around the length of his shaft. his cheeks are tinted with a pink hue as he babbles about how good you're doing, praises of "please don't stop.." , "please let me cum..!" , "f-feels so good..". and other phrases fallen from his plump lips that you couldn't understand.

as you begin to lick at his blushed tip, he starts whining about how he needs more, and how he needs you to take all of him into your throat, you start to get tired of his chatter. you stand up and take your shorts off, giving him a disinterested look. "since you won't stop talking, i may have to shut you up myself." you say as you straddle him, slowly pushing his dick in you. the action is made easy by your own arousal, lubing up your folds enough for you to sink all the way down. you kiss him to quiet down his moans and whimpers, but it doesn't work very well as he continues to moan into the kiss.

he rests his hands on your waist, under your shirt while still continuing to whisper sweet little nothings about the way your pussy wraps around him. his jaw goes slack as you start rocking your hips back and forth, so you take this as a chance to stick your fingers in his mouth. he wraps his plush lips around your digits and sucks on them like it's the last thing he'll ever do. now, the sounds of your bodies coming together with every movement of your hips, both of your soft moans, and light squelches of leehan's cock in your pussy are the only things that can be heard in the room alongside the music you were playing while doing some chores.

he whimpers around your fingers while drool drips down your hand and his dick twitches in your cunt, signalling you that he's about to cum. as your walls tighten around him, you suck in a sharp breath, "cum with me hannie, you've done so good." he nods, his eyes screw shut, and his back arches slightly as he fills you up. his warmth inside you pushes you over the edge as your pussy flutters around his length and you nearly fall forward with the strength of your orgasm. both of your bodies tremble as he wraps his arms around your waist. you take your fingers out of his mouth and wipe the drool on your bare thigh, kissing him.

for a few minutes as the two of you bask in the afterglow, his softening length still inside of you, he kisses your forehead. "thank you, i really needed that.." he smiles softly and his eyes shine a little brighter than usual, filled with adoration. "of course, hannie. we should get cleaned up soon though.." you trail off, getting lost in his eyes.

[samkerrworshipper]

Please could you do an imagine with Lucy bronze where the reader is also on the England team and gets injured during a game and Lucy is basically just being really cute and fluffy as well as a little protective 🥰

AHHH

I loved this request sm so here you go!

i feel like this could be followed up with a part 2 to expand on the reader and lucy’s relationship so lmk if you want to see that! also please feel free to keep sending in requests god knows i need inspo rn lol

A shoulder to cry on

Lucy Bronze x Reader

fluff, lil bit of angst, injury, graphic injury, pain, hurt/comfort, 3200 words

blurb: when lucy’s girlfriend goes down in a match how does she deal with it and how does lucy look react

I was too busy watching the ball flying towards goal to see the body flying at me. Too busy focusing on the Australian goalkeeper to acknowledge the knees slowly sliding under my own feet. Too busy focusing on getting my team a goal to give us a chance to stop myself from being floored by the Australian whirlwind, Ellie Carpenter. I went head first into the turf, my body flopping down onto the grass with my head dug into the dirt. My ears were ringing and I was a groaning mess. My whole body hurt and I couldn’t even muster the energy to turn over to access the damage that had been inflicted. All I could feel was gut wrenching pain, from my feet all the way to my hip.

When I was finally turned over I was met with the sight of Ellie and Steph Catley, two Australians that I didn’t want to see right now. I was a screaming, shaking, crying mess. Both women were very clearly taken aback by my emotion. The stadium was a ruckus, and as my teary eyes flashed up I saw my goal being replayed on the big screen, a goal. At least that was something, I’d done something to help us claw our way back. We were 100 days off from the World Cup start though, 100 days. Judging by the amount of pain I was in though that was nowhere near enough time.

As a professional athlete there is always the background fear that you are going to get injured. An overwhelming worry constantly in the back of your head that maybe this time it is going to be your last, maybe the next time you step on the field it might be the last time in a while. As you become a professional, as you start playing for your nation you learn to silence that part of your brain, you can’t afford to live in fear that you are going to get hurt. But watching teammates, friends, people you love get hurt, reinstalls that part of your brain, makes you wonder if maybe you are next, maybe next time it’ll be your turn. That fear though, it’s nothing in comparison to actually getting hurt, nothing in comparison to realising maybe this time it actually is your last.

That was all I could think about as the two Australian women tried to talk to me, tried to communicate with me. The first one of my teammates to rush over was Leah, who shoved both Australians away before crouching down beside me.

“Hey y/n, take a deep breath, the medics are about to get here, you don’t need to worry.”

Leah’s words were like a breath of fresh air, a break from the constant ringing in my ears.

“L-ucy, need Lucy.”

Leah nodded at me, smiling down at my face and nodding. Her hand made it’s way down to my face and wiped away the tears that were falling.

“She’s on her way angel, just stay patient for me, she’s making her way over, just take those deep breaths.”

“Hurts, hurts so fucking bad.”

Leah nodded at me, I watched her eyes creep down my body to my legs and that was how I knew it was bad, because not even Leah could avoid looking.

“I know, I know angel, I am so sorry that I can’t do anything about that. Just keep taking those deep breaths for me.”

I couldn’t help but continue to sob as I waited for someone, anyone to give me some kind of relief. All I could feel was pain and it was clear in Leah’s mannerisms that she didn’t really know how to help me, how was she supposed to help me?

“Y/n, listen to me, take a deep breath, I know you are in pain, the medics are getting here as fast as they can so you just need to take some deep breaths.”

It didn’t help that we were positioned on the opposite side of the field that the medics would be on and it was also a problem that if the umpire hadn’t blown her whistle they wouldn’t be allowed on.

“How bad is it?”

The words left my mouth in between sobs and breaths. Leah clearly didn’t know what to say, she clearly didn’t want to worry me any more but Leah wasn’t a good liar and she had a shit poker face.

“Don’t worry about that, keep your eyes on me. It’s just me and you, kiddo.”

Leah had taken me under her wing long ago, she treated me like her little sister.

I watched her eyes flash up in a panic and before I knew it she was jumping off of her feet and rushing off in the direction behind my head. I couldn’t help but turn my head to watch where she was going. I was still a little bit spaced out so it took me a few seconds to spot her out but once I did I found her rushing towards Ellie, who was sitting a few metres behind me. I couldn’t figure out why she was rushing over until I spotted Lucy approaching, running towards her, a look of absolute anger on her face. Leah was trying to get to her before Lucy inevitably got to Ellie. I watched it unfold as Lucy just made it to Ellie before Leah did, yanking her up by under her armpits.

I didn’t get to see much more, my head was pulled back to being flat on the turf by Millie and Sam Kerr, my ex-teammates from Chelsea.

“Hey y/n/n, the medics are just about to get here, it’s going to be alright.”

Millie’s tone of voice was similar to that of Leah’s, calm, patient, the voice of a captain.

“I need Lucy.”

Lucy was my other half. The love of my life, my everything. I wanted her, I wanted her to be there to hold my hand and to tell me that everything was going to be fine, even if it wasn’t.

“I know, Leah’s sorting her out, she’ll be here in a minute.”

Lucy was insanely protective over me, to a concerning degree. In the past year I’d made the decision to move to Barca, to be with her and it had been great but something I’d learnt from playing alongside her regularly was that she was a little bit too protective over the people she loved. A defender did so much as foul me on the pitch and she did everything in her power to seek some sort of revenge whether it was in the form of physically hurting them or doing anything in her power to get to them.

“I need her Mil, please.”

Millie nodded at me and then looked at Sam, I was in fucking shambles.

“I’ll go get her okay, feel better kid.”

Sam patted me gently on the shoulder before leaving just me and Millie. I was still lying on the pitch, fighting back more tears as I looked up into the sky and just prayed for this to all be over, for the pain to subside and for everything to just dissipate.

The medics were the next people to make it over to us, accompanied by Sarina and our trainer. The game had obviously been stopped for me so they seemed to be in a rush to get me off, with my goal we had a shot at winning now.

“Hi Ms y/l/n, how are you feeling?”

“In pain.”

My answer was flat and the medic let out an empty laugh at my reply.

“Okay, on a scale of 1-10 where would you put yourself at?”

“A 6.”

Sarina snorted at my reply, she knew that I had a high threshold for pain, I’d met her originally when I was playing as a rookie for Chelsea, she’d been the Netherlands coach at time and the coach for a professional team in the Netherlands which she’d tried to recruit me for but I’d turned her down. I’d never have guessed a few years later she would be coaching me on a National level.

“That means its a nine.”

I glared at Sarina, she knew me a little bit too well.

“Okay, this is a penthrox whistle, it should administer immediate pain relief, enough that we should be able to get you on the stretcher and off the pitch.”

I looked at Millie, then at Sarina, then at the Medic, immediately shaking my head.

“I’m walking off.”

All of their faces told me that I was missing something.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

In all of the chaos, all of the emergence, I hadn’t had the opportunity to even look at the source of my pain.

Before I could say anything more Lucy was crouching down beside my head and I couldn’t have been more grateful to see her. Her hand slid into mine and just her face, her smile, it was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t fighting a fucking battle.

“Luce, can you please tell them to let me walk off the pitch, just let me have that.”

I was fighting back tears and I could tell that Lucy was fighting an internal battle. Her eyes flashed down to my legs and then back to my face and just the split second gasp was enough to tell me that it was bad, really bad. Her hand fell to my face and that was how I knew it was not good and that was when I started sobbing again.

“How bad is it? Stop beating around the bush just tell me.”

All of the people above me looked between each other before the medic spoke,

“Your knee is dislocated, you’ve got some deep lacerations and stud marks in your shins and a piece of your tibia is sticking out of one of them. You are bleeding a lot, we need to get you off the field and to hospital, take the green whistle and we’ll get you off the field as soon as possible.”

Those words hurt, a lot, more than the injury itself. I nodded to the medic, I wasn’t walking off the field with that list of injuries, I was surprised I was still conscious with that comprise of injuries.

“Baby, just take the pain meds, you're in enough pain.”

Lucy’s voice, her convincing was probably the only thing that made me nod my head and let them pass me the inhaler. I got straight to inhaling it, and within the first ten or so inhalation I felt the pain relief start to kick in. It was good, it made me feel almost ten times better. Lucy was there the whole time, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as they medic attended to my legs and Sarina wrapped a blanket around my shivering upper half.

It was about five minutes before I was floating on a pain free drug induced cloud. When that happened they started to transfer me to the stretcher, with the help of Sarina, Lucy, Millie, Leah and the two medics. It was a touchy process, they were very clearly trying to keep the movement of my leg limited. The actual movement of getting me onto the stretcher had me screaming, pain relief or not it hurt insanely and I knew at that moment that my World Cup dreams were pretty much over. I cried the whole way to the ambulance. Lucy and my teammates had to desert me once I made it over to the sideline so they could finish off the game, eventually, along the way I passed out from the mixture of drugs and blood loss, something I was grateful for.

When I started to stir I had a headache but I felt warm. It took me a few seconds before I cracked my eyes, it was dark outside, my room was dark. But not so dark that I couldn’t make out everything around me, the lights from the hallway and machines giving me a steady source of light. The first thing that I saw was that a big percentage of the Lionesses were piled into the room, Georgia, Leah and Keira and piled onto a pull out sofa, Rachel, Millie and Mary sharing the spare cot beside me and a few of the other girls scattered in seats across the room. It was cute, looking at all of my teammates who were clearly gassed from the game but still here. Sarina and Lucy were slumped in the seats immediately to my side. Just as I let my eyes float over to Lucy her own blueish eyes tiredly connecting with my own. A tight lipped smile made its way to her mouth as she acknowledged me.

“Hey baby.”

Her voice was hushed, it was clear she was trying her hardest not to awaken any of our teammates. As she blinked away the sleep she slipped her glasses over her face, locking her eyes properly with me once the frames were slipped over her eyes. Her voice was enough to put more tears in my eyes, I was pretty sure I’d cried enough tears for about six people.

She stood up quietly, letting her hand fall to my face, gently rubbing a circle against my cheek. It was enough to have my lip trembling and my eyes darting across the room. Before I knew it I was a pleading staggering mess.

“Why me? Why now?”

Lucy’s facial expression just broke into a frown and I could feel her worrying from a few centimetres away from me. Before she said anything she pressed her lips to my forehead. I sobbed into her, not really worried about waking up any of our companions.

“I know sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

My breaths came out in hiccups and the hospital gown I was in clung to my body with the sweat that I was producing from working myself up.

“How bad is it, did we win?”

My words came out in pieces, it sounded like my Spanish, which was very rough and not very consistent.

“No, but don’t worry about that. They relocated your knee, you had to have surgery on your leg but it’s just a metal plate and some stitches for the lacerations from Carpenter’s boot.”

I honestly felt bad for the Australian defender, she’d had it bad enough with the press for the last while, let alone getting someone else’s blood all over their cleats.

“So my world cup dream is over.”

Lucy let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, it solidified the words in the room.

“Hey, not necessarily. The doctor said that the surgery went really well, that the fracture was pretty minor and that he expects a speedy recovery. You could be back running in 4-6 weeks.”

Even Lucy didn’t sound that optimistic, it was clear she was trying her hardest but she was struggling.

“My fitness will be shot, 4-6 weeks off the pitch pre world cup practically guarantees my spot gone, even if I’m running, in what world would Sarina take the chance of putting me on the pitch.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, it was hard to catch in the dim light but I managed to with my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I won’t have anyone putting my girl down, especially not you. You will be fine. I can’t promise you that you will make it back on the pitch, you will make it to Australia, if it’s the right fit. Maybe it won’t be, maybe that’s fate and I know that’s shit to accept, shit to get the short straw and I am so sorry that you are in that position. If I could switch with you I would. I would do anything for you and you know that, I’ll be here for you everyday, I will give up anything to make this easier for you, I can promise you that. I can promise that I’m here to be whatever you need. You need a shoulder to cry on? I’ve got two. You need someone to listen? I’ve got two working ears and great advice if you want it. You need someone to just be here for you? I will sit with you for as long as you need.”

Lucy’s words hit home for me. She had always been willing to do anything for me, she’d walk to the ends of the earth to do anything for me, she’d made that clear from when we’d first met. I’d been apprehensive from the beginning but she’d fought and fought until I’d given into her and when I had I’d fallen head over heels in love with the woman.

I moved myself over in the bed and patted down next to the space I’d left open beside me. Luc seemed apprehensive to begin with, her eyes darting between my leg and my eyes.

“Please, I just want my girlfriend to hug me, can I have that?”

Lucy bit her lip, she was clearly a little bit nervous about the idea but her slumped shoulders and tired eyes were enough to tell me that she was tired and just as needy as I was. Neither of us slept well without the other, on the rare occasion that we were separated we both struggled with the loss of contact.

“I’m not sure y/n/n, I don’t want to hurt your leg.”

She was so cute when she was nervous, her voice a nervous murmur. I put her worry to rest fairly quickly though, the pain meds were running through my veins and I was equally as tired.

“Luce, my bad leg is on the other side, I just need some contact, I need to feel loved and comfortable and this hospital bed is making that hard, so please, just hug your girlfriend.”

Lucy sighed and nodded at me, she couldn’t deny me, ever, I had her wrapped around my little finger.

“Alright, how about I slide behind you and you can rest against me?”

It took a little bit of push and shove and some wincing and pain on my side but eventually we got Lucy situated behind me, up against the pillows. I was resting comfortably against her chest and stomach, my head resting in her neck. It was everything I’d needed to make me feel a little bit better and once we’d both gotten settled I smiled up at her gratefully. She pressed her lips to my forehead, I swore that I could feel the compassion behind it but maybe that was the morphine speaking.

“I love you.”

She’d smiled down in that goofy way that she did when I gave her a compliment. Lucy was a goofball, it was one of the things that I loved about her. She was always laughing and making people around her laugh, she was just full of good energy and it made me a better person.

“I love you too, my love, always, get some rest. It’s all going to be okay.”

[becca-is-not-well]

Hi pretty!

So I have a super cute idea that won't let me rest

So basically how do you think chase davenport would react to the reader stealing his clothes

Like pajama pants, one of his flannels, a tee shirt

Id yoyu don't wanna write if you totally don't have to🩷

NAH HE WOULD BE SO FLUSTERED AT FIRST AND THEN BE LIKE "Wait why is this kinda-" LIKE HE'D GO 🤨😲😳🥺😏

Chase Davenport x reader

Warnings: fluffy, a little cheesy, and gets suggestive at the end (im sorry I couldn't help myself I love him sm sobbb) 2nd person (you/yours) also I didn't specify how the clothes fit cause I'm a big girl and I know for a fact Chase's clothes would be tight on me if I even managed to squeeze in lol so it's hopefully as inclusive as possible :)

"Hey, has anyone seen my blue flannel?" Chase asked the living room full of superheros.

"You have, like, a hundred blue flannels. Care to narrow it down at all?" Bree responded with her usual amount of attitude. Chase sent her an unamused look.

"Then have you seen my sweatpants? I'm staying with my girlfriend tonight and I can't find any of my clothes," he says exasperated.

"I bet Oliver stole them. He had a history," Kaz looks away his best friend with an amused smile.

"For the last time, I didn't realize they were your underwear! I wouldn't have touched them with a ten-foot pole if I had realized," Oliver shuddered at the memory while Bree and Chase both rolled their eyes.

"Oh! Skyler, have you seen my blue flannel and/or my sweatpants?" Chase asked the alien as she walked into the room.

"You have about a hundred blue flannels, how am I supposed to know which one you're looking for?" Skyler replied immediately. Bree pointed at Skyler dramatically while looking at her brother.

"See?!" She said triumphantly, happy for the unexpected validation. Chase rolled his eyes so hard, it was a surprise they didn't get stuck looking at his brain.

"And this is why I'm going away for the night," he said with a sarcastic smile before turning around and leaving the room.

After almost a half hour of searching, he still couldn't find his missing clothes. But Chase was nothing if not punctual, so he ended up just throwing some random clothes in his bag and heading out the door to get to your apartment on time.

Soon enough, he was right outside the familiar door that led into a small apartment. The man let out a content sigh as he opened the door and took in the familiar sights and smells of the place, happy to finally get away from his own home and spend the night with his love.

"Honey, I'm home!" Chase called out, only half joking.

A blur of blue and gray suddenly came full speed out of the bedroom, colliding with him in a tight hug. After taking a second to regain his balance, he chuckled and hugged you back just as hard.

"Hi, baby," he said, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply. It had been a rough week for him, but all the tension in his body left with a simple hug.

"I missed you~" you said in a slightly whiny tone, holding onto Chase even tighter.

"Missed you too, bug," he chuckled at your enthusiasm to see him, warmth and love rising in his chest. No one had ever had a reaction like this to simply seeing him before- and it was definitely a boost in confidence.

After a few more moments in each other's embrace, you both pulled away slightly, smiling at each other. Silently, you met each other's lips for a sweet, slow peck.

"Wait- what are you-" Chase pulled away again, his big brain processing what he had seen you wearing in the split second he had looked down. "Is that my flannel?"

You just nodded with a sweetly oblivious smile, stepping back to show the whole outfit.

"And your pants- and this might be your t-shirt," you told him happily. Chase just stood there in confusion- and a little bit of awe. Sure enough, your entire outfit consisted of his clothes.

"Is- that okay?" You asked after a moment of silence from Chase.

"Uh- yeah! Yeah, of course," he replied, a smile working its way onto his face.

It was cliché, but he decided quickly that seeing his you in his clothes was the best thing that would ever grace his eyes. You just looked so cute standing there, a shy smile on your face as you presented the clothing that used to belong to him. Obviously, though, he thought you looked much better than he ever did in the clothes- he would never dream of asking for them back.

Soon, the innocent adoration turned into something a bit less innocent. A surge of possessiveness and pride swelled in him as he looked you up and down again.

"You look so pretty, I don't know if I want to take my clothes off you or just keep looking," he said, the surge of confidence overtaking him as he stepped closer again.

You let out a giggle as he took your waist in his hands, pulling your body closer.

"I may or may not have a preference," you told him, subconsciously biting your lip.

"Oh really? Why don't you show me which one you want, then?" Chase said with a smile, meeting you for another kiss.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUWST YOU HAVE NO IDRA HOW HAPPY I AM

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Dean are in trouble as they come face to face with the person who's been pulling the strings all this time...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of murder/manipulation

A/N: Please enjoy the finale!

_______

“Stand down!” a voice shouted, holding up a closed fist. “He’s fucking feral!”

Feral? You reached a hand down between your thighs, pulling it back and grateful to find no blood. On the one hand, you were grateful Dean went feral. It was like a shit’s hit the fan reflex in an Alpha. Knots deflated instantly so pairs could escape danger. He would be stronger than five Alpha’s combined. Dean’s hair stood upright on every inch of his body, sense hyper aware of everything right now, searching of a way to protect his omega. 

But going feral meant that in a few hours, Dean’s body would force him to play catch up for going into overdrive and knock him out for a while to recover. You had to find a way out of this and fast.

“Are you fucking…” said a heavy sigh, your head popping out from behind Dean. Your heart skipped when one of the men ripped off his mask. “You fucking mated him? You let this fucker knot and claim you all the way didn’t-”

“Did, did you just come in here to try and kill my mate? My Alpha? My goddamn true mate?” you growled, stepping around Dean but held back by his extended arm. “If anyone takes a step towards him, I’ll kill you myself. I don’t care if you’re my dad or not. Don’t fuck with my mate.”

“He’s your dad?” said Dean, his scent threaded with a sharp twinge of heat, like burning ash, anger pulsing with every heartbeat. 

Your dad, turned his back, shaking his head. “Put on some damn clothes. We aren’t doing this right now.”

“Get these people out of my house and maybe I will,” you shot back. He grumbled but you watched as the others in the room walked out the broken front door, gathering at the far end of the front porch. The two of you dressed quickly, Dean always keeping an eye on you. Your dad grunted when he turned around, eyes narrowed at Dean. “Of course it had to be you, you sniveling little shit.”

“Dad, back off. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“He’s full of shit is what he is,” said Dean, picking you up before he stepped over the back of the couch to avoid the glass. He set you down by his side, careful to make sure you stayed behind him. “You were gonna kill your daughter’s true mate before we could cement it. The only reason I’m not dead right now is because it’d destroy her.”

“Why would you want to kill Dean? You told me he was innocent,” you said, brushing past Dean to join him at his side. He didn’t like that but he was the one in danger right now, not you. “Why?”

“Because you’re The Boss, aren’t you. You’re the one that gave out orders to my team lead for who to kill. Didn’t you?” Your dad stared at Dean, his jaw clenched. “Don’t deny it. I know there was someone above him calling the shots.”

“Listen you little shit,” he said, taking a step closer, resting his hand on his holster. “You don’t get to walk away from my business. You were all supposed to die that day but you lived. I let you live, Winchester, don’t forget that. I told the bureau you were a good kid with shitty luck to lose your whole team. I told them to help you get accepted to be a fucking forest ranger in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. I told them I’d watch out for you like the good person I am. I let you go, Dean. I let you think your little conspiracy theories were right. I was going to let you go but you just had to be her mate, didn’t you.”

“Touch her and I’ll-”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he snarled. “That’s my fucking daughter.”

He wiped a hand over his face, breathing deeply as Dean grabbed the back of your sweatpants, holding you close.

“Seeing as how killing you would make my own daughter hunt me down, I’m going to let you live.” Dean scoffed, your dad cocking his head. “Boy, don’t you think for one second if I hadn’t gotten here five minutes sooner you’d be still breathing. I won’t fuck up my own family but yours? I have no problem sending Sam and his little girlfriend a visit or your parents. You fucking work for me again and this time? You’re not hiding behind your team. You’re killing who I say when I say it.”

“No he isn’t.” You took a step forward, Dean’s grip still there. “In case you didn’t realize, those people you just threatened are my pack now. They are as much my family as you are. Dean let go of me.”

“Be careful,” he muttered, reluctantly dropping his hand. You raised your chin and took a few more steps, as close as you dared. He wouldn’t hurt you but you still couldn’t trust him.

“I know you love me, dad. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He shifted on his feet, keeping his face blank. “Today was supposed to be my day to spend with him. Today’s supposed to be the best day of my life and you stole that. He’s not a hitman. He’s my fucking soulmate and if you do not stop hurting him right this second, I will call her, call them both, and tell them everything.”

His lips parted as he took in the threat, the way you stood your ground. You honestly weren’t sure what he’d do. Clearly he wasn’t the easy going nice guy you’d always known him as which made your gut churn. But you’d deal with that later. Right now you needed this resolved.

“Well?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Am I calling them or what?”

He raised his hand and did a twirling motion with his finger. The people on the porch shared a look but you watched them retreat off into the woods. Your dad let out a long breath before crossing his arms back at you. “Alright. I will leave your…mate and his pack out of this. Happy?”

“What the fuck is going on?” mumbled Dean behind your back. 

“My dad has two mates. My mom and his true mate he met a few years ago,” you said, turning around for a closet down the hallway. You ripped it open to find a broom and dustpan, happily grabbing them before tossing them at your dad. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand the kind of liability this kid is.”

“Clean. It. Up.” He grumbled but picked up the broom, sweeping the glass into a pile near his feet. “What Dean chooses to do is not your decision to make. You’re going to live with the consequences of your actions. Unless you want me to tell mom what kind of man you are? Tell Sasha who you are before you claim her?”

“You haven’t claimed your true mate?” asked Dean, your dad turning so his back was to your both as he worked. “How the hell did you hold off?”

“Dad always said it wasn’t fair to mom since he loves them both but when he met Sasha, he was strangely against it. Seeing as we both know just how hard it is to not claim a true mate, I’m going to guess it’s something else,” you said, glancing at Dean.

“He’s on Novi-Alpha,” said Dean, shaking his head. “You can’t claim her or you’ll kill her.”

“It’s why you moved out here away from mom for a ‘covert’ job huh? You don’t want your mates near you,” you said.

“Thanks for being such a sympathetic pup to the fact I have cancer,” he said, throwing the broom down. “For the record, miss know it all, I’ve been on Novi-Alpha for a decade. The kind I have is extremely aggressive. If I stay on it, the cancer stays away. Hopefully.”

“Hey,” you snapped back, holding up a finger. “I don’t want you to be sick. I don’t want to know that you’ve been…killing people for hire for who knows how long. I am so angry with you but do not think that means I want you dead.”

“Oh? What if he wants me dead?” asked your dad, nodding towards where Dean stood beside you. “You going to let him do that?”

Yes, I would. He’d forced Dean to be part of a group that relentlessly made him to be part of their hits. Maybe he hadn’t pulled a trigger or taken a life until it was his own team but he’d participated. Helped plan, coordinate. All against his will so his family would stay safe. So yeah. Dean could walk over there and kill him this second and you wouldn’t be more than a little upset. 

But you hid that gut instinct to yourself for the moment.

“This may come as a shock but I don’t like killing people unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Dean bent down, palm wrapping around the broomstick. He held it out to your dad, staring him dead on. “My friend is an oncologist. A good one. He’s the one that was giving me access to Novi-Alpha the past few years while I thought someone was hunting me.”

Dean nodded his chin, looking him up and down.

“It’s better than the basic crap your insurance covers. I could talk to him, see if we could get you on the new stuff. It might actually heal you and you could be with your mates again.”

“Why the fuck would you help me?” he asked. Dean glanced over his shoulder at you, giving him a smirk.

“You have a lot of making up to do with your daughter and your new pack family. We need you alive to do that,” said Dean. Your dad reached for the broom, Dean holding it back. “Why’d you kill in the first place?”

“Why do you think? When I was diagnosed, Novi-Alpha didn’t exist. I was trying to get money fast to pay off the house, pay that one’s student loans, make sure my family was taken care of. They didn’t know it could cure cancer when it first came out so I kept at it.”

“So you went Walter White on the situation,” said Dean, handing over the broom. “Maybe you ought to quit the business while you still have a family willing to take you back.”

Your dad pursed his lips, gaze wandering to you. “Not sure that’s possible anymore.”

“Probably not. But that’s your pup. You have two mates, one you’re overdue to claim. You owe them.” Dean turned, giving you a small smile. “You want to give him a second chance?”

“We’ll see. But first, you need to do something else for me.”

Three Months Later

“Good morning,” said your dad, hopping out of his truck as you sat on the front porch with a cup of coffee. “Surprisingly sunny today, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, Harry,” you said, taking a long sip, eyeing him up and down. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, got some in the truck,” he said, Dean walking out the front door, adjusting his coat. “Dean.”

“Asshole,” said Dean with a smile, tilting his head. Your dad hid his frown well, Dean taking a seat across from you with his thermos. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Harry?”

“I uh, wanted you both to know I’m leaving town. I sat mom and Sasha down last week and…told them the truth about everything.” He kicked the dirt with his boot, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I was always worried about them getting along and now they’re closer than ever with how much they hate me. Guess I got what I wanted.”

“I’d try groveling,” said Dean, slurping up the steaming hot coffee with his best bitch face. “You’re starting to get good at it.”

“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, gaze shooting to you. “I need to go try to salvage something with my Omegas.”

“Sasha will let you back, eventually. She’s hardwired into you. Mom might be a different story, though,” you said. 

“I just wanted you girls to be okay when I was gone,” he said as you sighed. “Sorry. I know. Not an excuse.”

“I know you’re trying but you’re going to be making up for this the rest of your life. So go try with your mates. Dean and I will be fine on our own for awhile,” you said. 

“You still hate me,” he said. 

“Travel safe, Harry,” you said, your dad nodding before heading back for his truck. “I heard the new Novi-Alpha strain you’re on is working better.”

“Are you happy about that?” he asked.

“I’m not unhappy.” Dean reached over to take hold of your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Call once you’ve settled in back home.”

“Take care of her,” he said, Dean humming. With that, he was gone, down the gravel driveway and you could feel Dean relax beside you.

“He won’t do anything,” you said, raising your hand and running it through his brown strands. “S’okay, Alpha.”

“I know. He makes me nervous. S’like my body remembers going feral because of him and will always be on edge.” 

“I doubt he ever moves back here. Mom and Sasha are making him donate every penny he ever made from killing, volunteer, be a blood donor once he gets the all clear from his doctors, therapy, and a whole bunch of other stuff.”

“I like those two,” he chuckled, closing his eyes when you scrunched up your fingers against his scalp. “Oh, you’re making me want to go back to bed, Omega. A nice massage sounds like heaven right about now.”

“You are the sheriff. You can show up late you know,” you said, trailing your finger down the side of his cheek, tickling his jaw.

“Ugh, raincheck. I have a staff meeting at eight I’m supposed to run.” He nuzzled into your touch though, his breathing calm, steady. “Why’d you make your dad call the bureau and tell them to give me a job as a cop?”

“Because you’ll never get to go back to being an agent. Because you deserve to be able to help people how you always wanted to.” He inched closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “You never have to be The Ranger again.”

“I know,” he said, sighing against you. You frowned, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. He lifted his head when he saw you dial, watching you hold up a finger.

“Hey, Caleb, it’s Sheriff Winchester’s wife. Listen, Dean’s not feeling too great today so he’s calling in sick,” you said, Dean flashing wide eyes at you, trying to steal back the phone but you got up before he could. “Yeah it is too bad, just a touch of flu. Well he’ll be in tomorrow if he’s feeling better, alright? Take care.”

“Omega!” said Dean when you hung up, his hands on your hips as you shrugged with a smirk. “You…you…”

“Yes, sheriff?” you purred, scratching under his chin, scraping over the bonding gland in his neck. He mewled at the sensitive touch, losing the urge to turn into it. “What a good Alpha you are when you relax for me. Hopefully with Harry being gone you’ll relax more. I do love helping you relax.”

“I do like relaxing with you,” he mumbled when you squeezed his hip. “I…I still don’t like it when you call me a good person. It doesn’t feel right when I killed four people and researched how to-”

You pressed a hand to his mouth, Dean staring at you with soft green eyes.

“Think of it this way…you were doing what you had to to protect your pack, just like a good Alpha does. You are not a bad man, Dean Winchester.”

“How do you know that?” he whispered.

“Because I can feel your soul and yours is one of the best.” 

“Oh, Omega,” he said, voice smooth as honey, the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls in the air. “Your soul is my favorite too.”

“Want to finally relax?” you asked, sliding your hand down to his. He laced your fingers together, smiling when he found your face.

“Yeah. I think I finally can after all this time, Omega.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, grinning through it. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Alpha.”

_______