#i hope the colors are so vibrant they yell at you

[drag00ni]

Livio Razlo epicness

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within (Part Two)  Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Following the events of the first part, a severely injured Y/N lies in a coma while a heartbroken Tyler waits by her side, wondering if she will ever wake up.

Warnings: Hospital, Reader is in a coma, Fluff, Sad Tyler, Slightly angsty.                                              

Notes: I didn't expect so many people to read the first part, let alone want a second, so thank you—it means a lot. I rushed to write this to avoid making you wait any longer, lol. I'm currently accepting writing prompts for Jake Seresin, Tyler Owens, and Glen Powell.

Enjoy byeeee!

Two weeks have slipped by in a blur of sterile hospital corridors and the endless hum of medical machines. Each passing day is a battle against time, unrelenting in its indifference, and Tyler's world has shrunk to the confines of your hospital room.

Tyler sits by your side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He's lost count of the hours he's spent watching the rise and fall of your chest, willing you to wake up. The constant beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are his only companions.

The rest of the storm-chasing team visits regularly, each holding onto hope in their own way. Boone leaves a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table every other day, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the clinical white of the room. Dani brings her laptop, working quietly in the corner, refusing to leave until Tyler is forced to rest. Dexter makes sure Tyler eats, even if it means feeding him himself. And Lilly, with her unwavering optimism, often slips into the chair opposite Tyler, regaling him with stories and laughs to keep the darkness at bay.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun penetrate the blinds, Tyler is gently persuaded by Lilly to step outside the room, if only for a few minutes. The fresh air at the hospital's small garden is a reprieve he didn’t know he needed. He takes deep breaths, trying to shake off the weight that's settled on his shoulders.

As he walks back towards your room, he overhears a hushed conversation between two nurses. "It's been two weeks, and she's still fighting. It's remarkable," he hears one of them say. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. You're a fighter; you always have been.

Pushing open the door to your room, Tyler's heart skips a beat. One of the doctors, Dr. Emerson, is standing by your bed, reviewing the latest results. Tyler rushes in, anxiety and hope warring on his face.

"Any changes, Doc?" Tyler asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Emerson turns to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. "Her vitals are steadily improving. The brain activity shows promising signs. She's still in a coma, but these are good indicators. It’s just a matter of time."

With those reassuring words, Dr. Emerson gives Tyler a gentle nod before turning to leave the room, the other doctor following closely behind. The soft click of the closing door lingers in the air, marking the transition from clinical observation to personal vigil.

Tyler takes his seat beside you, gently holding your hand. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, his voice soft but steady. "I know you can hear me. I thought I'd share some stories, like old times."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Remember the first storm we chased together? God, we were terrified but so exhilarated," he chuckles. "The sky was this angry shade of gray, and the wind was howling like it was possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, but we felt invincible."

Tyler's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues. "You kept yelling at me to keep the camera steady while you took notes. I think I was too busy being amazed by how fearless you were. The tornado touched down so close, and we got caught in the downdraft. But you... you never lost your cool. You guided us out of there like it was just another day at the office."

He squeezes your hand gently, hoping for any sign of acknowledgment. "Then there was that time in Kansas. Do you remember? We were staying at that run-down motel, and the power went out during the middle of the night. We ended up sitting in the car, wrapped in blankets, watching the lightning storm. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

The corners of Tyler's lips lift into a sad smile as he recounts more memories. "You were always the brave one, Y/N. Like that time we drove into the eye of the storm. Literally. Everyone told us it was too dangerous, but you convinced us, and we did it. And I'll never forget the look on your face when we made it out in one piece."

A silence hangs in the air for a moment, the only sounds coming from the steady beeps and hums of the medical equipment.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. Seeing you like this... it's killing me. But I know you're fighting. You always do," Tyler says, voice cracking with emotion.

Tyler leans closer, his head resting on the side of your bed. He speaks softly, almost to himself. "You know, Dani was telling me about how you kept her sane during her first storm chase. She said she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And Boone, he's a mess without you bossing him around. Dexter too. None of us are the same without you."

He looks at your serene face, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. "But we all believe in you. We know you're coming back to us. And when you do, we'll be ready with stories and laughs and everything that's been missing."

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over the room, Tyler continues to talk. He recounts every little detail of your adventures together, from the funniest moments to the most heart-stopping ones, painting a vivid picture with his words.

The world is a foggy blur as consciousness slowly begins to seep back into your mind. The silence in the room is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines. Your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to open them, a sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

As your eyes finally flutter open, the dim light of the room gradually sharpens into focus. The first thing you see is Tyler, slumped in the chair beside your hospital bed. His hand grips yours tightly, as if even in sleep, he cannot let go. His face is etched with lines of stress and fatigue, evidence of the nights he has spent by your side.

For a few moments, you simply watch him. Even in his exhausted state, there’s an undeniable tenderness in the way he holds your hand. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that has grown from days of neglecting himself. Deep down, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wells up within you. You realize now more than ever just how much he means to you.

Gradually, you muster the strength to give his hand a weak squeeze, something to pull him from the depths of his weariness. His eyes flutter open slowly, confusion briefly crossing his features before they lock onto yours. Instantly, his face transforms—a mix of shock, awe, and profound relief.

"Y/N..." he breathes, his voice shaky and filled with emotion. Tears pool in his eyes, and you can see him fighting to hold them back, but it’s a losing battle. As the realization washes over him, that you’re finally awake, his tears begin to fall freely. "You’re... you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake."

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you manage a small smile. "Tyler," you rasp, the single word carrying all the emotions you can't yet express.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing fervent kisses to your knuckles. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much," he chokes out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the things I said. I was scared and I handled it all wrong."

You can feel the wetness of his tears on your hand, and it breaks your heart to see him in such pain. Gathering what strength you can, you shake your head slightly. "No, Tyler. We both did things we regret. I pushed you away when I should have let you in. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward."

He nods, his teary eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll fix this. Together," he vows, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Your smile grows a bit stronger, as you grip his hand with a bit more strength. "Together," you echo, the word binding the two of you in a promise of unity and hope.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tyler repeats fervently, his tears now mingling with a relieved laugh.

You can't help but let out a light giggle, the sound so sweet to Tyler’s ears. "I love you, I love you, I love you," you reply, your heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long while.

Tyler chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I think the doctors are going to start charging me rent for how long I've been here."

You laugh weakly, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, as long as you don't start claiming squatter's rights. We might have to evict you."

His laughter mingles with yours, the room now filled with a warmth and happiness that seemed impossible just moments ago. "Deal. I'll leave when you do," he declares, his voice brimming with love and commitment.

The path to recovery will undoubtedly be long and arduous, but for now, the hardest part is over. The heavy cloud of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a glimmering beacon of hope. The room, once cold and sterile, now feels warm, filled with the palpable power of your mutual love and commitment.

As the rhythmic beeping of the machines continues to fill the background, you and Tyler share a moment of silent understanding, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them hand in hand. "I love you," he whispers once more, the promise of these words a soothing balm to your soul.

"I love you," you whisper back, sealing the bond that will carry you through the days to come.

[snow-snowball]

His friends saw your quarrel

characters: Paul Lahote; Seth Clearwater; Sam Uley; Leah Clearwater; Embry Call; Quil Ateara; Jacob Black.

warring: fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; dirty talk; Paul Lahote; profanity; lgbt with Leah; 18+ content; rude characters.

a/n: English is not my first language, so apologise for mistakes and other errors. If you don’t like my content, please pass me by. Be kinder and nose reading. Dividers are mine.

w: 5,3k

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Paul Lahote ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You are once again taking a walk with your best friend, Jasper. To be honest, you haven’t been in the mood since morning because your period started. You knew the nature of your friend, so you were surprised by his composure. But it was precisely next to him that you felt much better. After all, the ability to manage other people's emotions isn't such a bad thing.

But going for a walk with someone your boyfriend can't stand is a terrible idea. Paul is a rock-solid and caring man, always ready to stand by you through thick and thin. However, his short temper is like a ticking time bomb. Even if you merely trip over a tree root, he would likely go on a tirade, ready to unleash havoc in the name of your safety. On one hand, it's sweet that he would move mountains for you, but on the other... being around him can be downright terrifying at times. It's like walking on eggshells, never quite knowing what might set him off.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, you smiled brightly. Jasper settled onto a nearby rock, his gaze drifting deep into the woods. Vibrant yellow and red leaves danced down from the trees, gathering in delicate heaps on the ground. A mischievous idea sparked in your mind. You dashed over to a towering pile of leaves and leapt into it, sending a cascade of colorful foliage flying in every direction. Jasper chuckled, walking up to you. “Feeling any better?” he asked, extending his hand to help you up. But instead of taking his hand, you grasped his arm and pulled him down beside you. Now, both of you were sprawled in the leaves, laughter bubbling up like a mountain spring.

“Oh my goodness, what a child you are,” Jasper remarked, shaking his head in playful disbelief. He noticed a small twig lodged in your hair and leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours. He gently extricated the branch and tossed it aside. Before he could utter a word, someone's fist flew into his jaw.

“Don’t you dare touch her, you bloodsucker!” That gruff voice was one you could recognize in a crowd of thousands. Paul. Jasper was trying to dodge the wolfman's blows, not yet retaliating against Paul. But your boyfriend seemed to have lost his mind: his eyes were bloodshot, nostrils flaring as he greedily sucked in air, his body trembling with rage. “You’d better back off, sweetheart!” Jared shouted, a cocky grin plastered across his face. “This is going to be one hell of a show!”

“Jared, stop him!” you yelled desperately at the guy who seemed in no rush to rein in his friend’s fury. “Jared, please!” After yet another one of your pleas, the Indian boy sighed and stepped in to separate the two before things spiraled out of control. “Easy, girls, easy. I've got the lipstick!,” Jared quipped, hoping his silly remark would lighten the mood, but instead, a fist landed solidly in his gut. “Shut up, Jared!” Paul barked, still glaring menacingly at Jasper.

Tension hung thick in the air, like a storm cloud ready to burst. You felt your heart race as you watched the chaos unfold, praying that tempers wouldn’t flare any further. The atmosphere crackled with a raw energy, a powder keg ready to explode, and you knew all too well how dangerous such a volatile situation could be.

You stepped between the guys, tears welling in your eyes as you looked at Paul, who finally shifted his gaze to you, lost in the depths of your eyes. Gradually, he came back to reality. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were going out with that��� that idiot?” he asked, fists clenched like iron. “Because I knew you’d be angry,” you confessed, your words sending shockwaves through him. “Are you trying to spite me or what?!” He slammed his fist against a nearby tree, splintering it to pieces. You flinched, instinctively shrinking back. “Paul, calm down, you’re scaring her,” Jared intervened, grabbing his friend by the shoulder, trying to pull him away from you to a safe distance. “Go to hell, Jared,” Paul snapped, spinning around and delivering a punch to Jared’s gut. Jared doubled over in pain, falling to his knees. “Paul! Please, come to your senses!” You placed a hand on his cheek, turning him toward you, but he struck you across the face, sending you flying back a few meters. An oppressive silence descended, hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

“[Y/N], forgive me, darling!” Paul immediately jumped up from his spot, trying to help you, but Jasper dismissed him with a flicker of irritation, his patience clearly at its breaking point. “What the hell, you damn vampire?!” But Cullen ignored the werewolf's outburst and focused on assisting you to your feet. He gently grasped your chin between his fingers, his brow furrowing in concern as he took in the bruise marring your face, the result of the blow.

Jared, seated on his knees, stared in disbelief at his friend, who had sworn to him that he would never let his aggression touch his betrothed. It seemed Paul had failed to keep his promise. “I think it's better if we stay away from each other for a while,” you murmured, refusing to meet Paul’s gaze as Jasper effortlessly lifted you into his arms.

“Go to hell, you slut! I don’t want a fiancée like you, anyway!” Paul shouted in sheer desperation, turning into a wolf and bolting into the depths of the forest. You stifled a sob, burying your face in Jasper's shoulder. Meanwhile, Jared was torn, caught in a tug-of-war between going after Paul or offering solace to Paul’s heartbroken girl.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Seth Clearwater ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Seth had always been an open and spirited guy, that is until a certain moment. For some reason, he started ignoring your phone calls, stopped inviting you out, and simply didn’t want to spend time with you for the past two weeks. You tried to reassure yourself, thinking he was likely busy preparing for his upcoming exams. But your surprise turned to concern when his classmates mentioned that Seth hadn’t shown up at school for over a week. That set off alarm bells in your mind.

Now, you're making your way to the Clearwater house, determined to clear the air and get to the bottom of this mystery.

As you navigate the muddy path, slipping a couple of times due to the incessant rain, you can’t help but mutter under your breath. Of all places, why did Seth have to live out here in the middle of nowhere?

“Seth!” the girl banged aggressively on the door. “Open up, you scoundrel!”

“What on earth are you shouting about?”Seth's older sister appeared at the door, her beautiful face framed by the entrance. “He’s not home; he’s at school.” she paused for a moment, thinking. “Why aren’t you there? I thought school in Forks finished later.”

“That's not important! I want to see my boyfriend!” you stomped your foot and crossed your arms defiantly. “I’m not leaving until I know he’s okay.”

“He’s fine.” Leah replied tersely before slamming the door right in your face. You huffed in frustration and plopped down on the porch steps.

As evening fell, the chill in the air became palpable. The wind whistled through the trees, and the buzzing of nocturnal insects filled the silence. The branches swayed, casting eerie shadows that danced in the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. You were afraid of the dark, but more than anything, you worried about your boyfriend. Leaning against the railing, you succumbed to sleep, your thoughts drifting softly to Seth.

In the midst of a dream, you felt gentle caresses through your hair and the sensation of being carefully lifted into someone’s arms. You lingered in slumber, savoring the warmth enveloping you as you nuzzled against a collarbone, inhaling a familiar scent. Suddenly, you were laid down on a soft mattress, and smiling, you nestled closer to the body beside you.

Morning light poured through the windows, pulling you from your dreams with tender strokes brushing against your hair. Blinking into the brightness, your eyes widened in shock as you took in the sight of Seth lying next to you. He wore an apologetic smile, but before he could utter a word, “I’m sorry, [Y/N], I didn’t mean to—" you were already bolting from his bed, racing down the hallway. Disappearing from your life only to draw you back in like this? How could he dare to touch you?

“Don’t come near me, you traitor!” you shouted, trying to wrench your arm free from Seth's grasp. “I've been on edge for two weeks!” Finally breaking free, you slapped him hard across the face and then gasped in shock. “Oh God! Seth! I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry!” You reacted in a whirlwind of emotions, hitting your boyfriend just like those drama queens you used to roll your eyes at. Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you didn’t even give him a chance to explain.

“Wow,” Leah exclaimed from the kitchen, stirring her tea. “I never thought I'd witness a classic American soap opera come to life right in front of me.”

“Screw this!” Seth snapped, his expression serious. “[Y/N], please, just give me some time, and I swear I’ll explain everything. Not now, but someday—I promise.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, forcing a chuckle. “Can I at least give you a hug?”

“Don't tell me you're actually asking if you can start a family with her?” the girl scowled, glancing from you to your brother. “That’s just disgusting.”

“Leah!”

“Since the day I was born, it’s been Leah.” She rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her cookie. “I don’t need you to remind me of my name.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Sam Uley ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You were tired of the ridiculous rumors about Sam. Your boyfriend, the founder of some gang? Nonsense! He is a decent and educated man—there’s no way he’s the head of a gang. But the problem is�� your father believed those rumors and forbade you from seeing Sam. Instead of standing up for your relationship, he went along with your dad. Does he really not care about you? Was he just playing with your feelings like he did with Leah?

Determined to get to the bottom of things, you decided to follow him after spotting him outside a store. Throwing on a long black coat, a large black hat, and some ridiculous fake mustache, you waited until he was safely out of sight before you began to tail him, hiding behind lampposts and trees whenever he glanced back. Silly? Yes. Effective? You bet!

Eventually, you found yourself at his house, where a couple of guys had gathered. They were all shirtless, and as you hid behind a tree, you couldn’t help but admire the sight of the muscular guys, feeling both intrigued and a bit flustered.

“Sam, who is that?” one of the Indian asked, pointing towards the tree where you stood. “Do you have secret admirers?” After his friend's words, Sam shot him an annoyed glance before heading in your direction. Grabbing you by the elbow, he brought you to the center of the clearing, and all eyes were suddenly on you. Swallowing hard, you nervously waved your arms, desperately searching for an explanation. In an instant, Sam yanked off your hat and those ridiculous fake mustaches, staring at you in shock. “[Y/N]? What are you doing here?”

“Exactly, [Y/N]!” a girl stomped her foot. “I have the same question for you!” She poked Sam in the chest with her finger, her expression fierce.

“This is my home. I live here.” The man looked at you in confusion, crossing his arms over his chest. You mirrored his action, narrowing your eyes at him, your cheeks puffed up. Honestly, he didn’t want to argue with you, especially not now, when you looked so cute. His cute girlfriend. “Listen, I don’t want to fight with you, especially in front of others, and—” He didn’t get to finish, as his friend interrupted him.

“Nothing! We don’t mind watching a family squabble! Hey, Paul, do we have any beer left?”

“Jared, shut up and don’t interfere in other people’s conversations,” Sam said firmly, while Paul gave Jared a light smack on the back of the head and, putting an arm around his friend's shoulders, walked away, leaving you two alone. “Honey, this is a tough time for me, and I just want you to be safe.”

“Don’t you want to ask me what I want?” You stepped toward him impulsively. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous to be around you or not. I want answers, Sam Uley! Just tell me what the problem is! Maybe I can help?” You lowered your head, feeling defeated, and sank to your knees, covering your eyes with your hands as you tried to calm your racing heart and sort through your tangled thoughts.

The man crouched down beside you, gently stroking your hair. He always did this when you felt low. “[Y/N], I love you so much, and I want to make sure you’re safe.” Sam pulled you close, enveloping you in his strong arms—his broad frame almost shielding you from view. As you melted into his embrace, a sense of calm washed over you.

“Sam, I love you too, but if you keep pushing me away, you’re only going to hurt us both.” You pressed a soft kiss on his neck, your hands gliding over his bare back. “If you don’t want to explain, that’s fine. Just please don’t leave me; don’t abandon me. I can’t live without you!” You trembled at the thought.

He tilted your chin up gently, offering a weary smile. “I too can't imagine living without you,” he gently kissed you on the lips, as if trying to convey what he couldn't say. “I'm sorry; someday you'll understand everything.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Leah Clearwater ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Your girlfriend was so rude to your best friend. Could it be that she's jealous?

Leah had always been hot-tempered and abrasive, but with you, she turned sweet and gentle. However, she could hardly tolerate your friends. They drew too much attention away from her. When she found out you were going to the beach with Bella, it was like a storm had hit her home. Anyone but Bella—the vampire’s girlfriend! There was just something about her that drove Lea up the wall. She acted as if the world owed her something, strutting around like a self-appointed princess.

You and your best friend Bella were sitting on the sand, engaged in a lively discussion while gazing out at the beautiful sea. Suddenly, Bella placed her hand on your shoulder, about to say something, when a jolt of pain shot through her arm, making her cry out. Stunned, you turned to see an angry Leah, her fists clenched tight, glaring fiercely at Bella. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Leah! What are you doing?!” you shot up to your feet, scolding your girlfriend. Leah's posture shifted, her arms drawing in close as though she were a scolded puppy, looking back at you with an expression of guilt. “What’s gotten into you?” you exclaimed, rushing to help Bella while dodging Leah’s snarls.

“And why does she think it’s okay to lay her hands on my girlfriend?” Leah retorted, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. “Right now, you’re the one laying your hands on someone,” you shot back, casting a stern glance at her before turning your attention to Bella’s injury. “Oh crap, Swan, you’ve broken something!” you said, gently helping her to her feet, determined to escort her home.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Leah asked, concern thick in her voice.

“Anywhere but here!” you replied without looking back, the weight of the tension still heavy in the air.

All this time, a shocked Seth stood nearby, wanting to invite everyone over to Emily's house, but it seemed he had arrived at the wrong moment. “What happened?” he asked, approaching his sister. But she just gave him a worried glance and, without saying a word, went inside her home.

Once she reached her room, she lay down on her bed, pulling the blanket over herself. Seth remembered this scene vividly and felt a wave of dread. She had looked just the same after her breakup with Sam. He didn't want his sister to sink back into such a state again. “Leah, is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just go away, Seth. It's my fault,” she muttered, burying herself deeper in the blanket, trembling slightly. “It's all over now.”

“Nothing is over! I'm going to talk to her!” But the girl didn’t respond to his words. Leah knew she had made a mistake and she accepted her error, but there was no way to fix it.

Seth was persistently knocking at your door, and as soon as you opened it, he barged into the house. “Alright, let's measure up!” he said, grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you outside.

“Seth! Let go of me! At least give me a chance to change!” You stood in the middle of the street in your short pajamas, which barely covered your exposed skin. Covering your chest with one hand, you glanced around, hoping no one would see you. “I don't care,” Seth replied, scooping you up in his arms. His body provided some cover from prying eyes. “I'll get you to my place in no time!”

Well, he wasn't lying when he said he'd get home quickly. Just five minutes later, you found yourself standing at the entrance to the Clearwater house. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, you stepped inside, feeling a shiver run down your spine from the contrast of the warm interior and the chilly weather outside. As you climbed the stairs, you winced at the creaking of the wooden steps. Upon reaching your girlfriend’s room, you knocked a couple of times before entering.

Leah's room was dimly lit, almost gloomy. You struggled to find the light switch in the dense darkness, and once you flipped it on, you approached her bed and sat down. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Leah abruptly threw off her blanket, ready to unleash her frustration at Seth, but froze when she saw you before her.

“Hello, Leah.”

“[Y/N]?” The girl looked at you in shock, first glancing at you, then over your shoulder at Seth, who was leaning casually against the doorframe. “What nonsense has he been feeding you?” Leah snapped, her eyes narrowing as she took in your appearance from head to toe. “And why are you dressed like that?” After her question, Seth bolted out of the room.

“He said what he needed to say!” you huffed, curling up under the blanket beside her. “Come on, move over—I’m freezing.” You wrapped your arms around her waist and nestled your face against her warm shoulder. “You have no idea how hot are you,” you confessed, and then immediately clapped a hand over your mouth. “Not in the way you’re thinking, though that too. I mean—ugh! Forget it! I’m going to sleep.” In response to your jumbled words, you heard a sweet laugh, feeling her embrace you in return.

“I'll show Seth how to steal you away from home tomorrow! And…” She paused for a moment. “I'm sorry, please forgive me. I don't know what came over me.”

“It's okay, I forgive you. But please, don't do that again.”

“I'll try.”

“Lea!”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Embry Call ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You like your boyfriend’s friend Jacob is loyal and kind, but Embry has been sneaking away to spend time with him way too often. Today is no exception. You were heading over to your boyfriend’s place to enjoy your usual Friday movie night, where it was your turn to pick the film. Last time, Embry chose ‘Attack of the Killer Tomatoes,’ and to be honest, you were left in shock by his choice. It made him seem a bit silly, and the thought of him picking the next film sent shivers down your spine.

You had decided on a horror movie for tonight: ‘Smile 2.’ You couldn't help but smile at the anticipation of being scared, imagining how Embry would wrap his arms around you, kiss you, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear to comfort you. Giggling and spinning in excitement, you knocked on the door, but only silence greeted you. Feeling annoyed, you circled the house, only to realize that no one was home. Anger surged within you at the thought of where he might be, and with a determined turn, you headed towards Jacob’s house. “I’m going to show that little pup how to keep his hands off my boyfriend!”

“Embry, toss me the seventeen,” Jacob shouted, inspecting the car's wheel. “Just a little more and this baby will be as good as new!”

“I think [Y/N] is upset with me…” Embry approached the toolbox, grabbed the required wrench, and went over to help his friend with the car.

“Girls are just… well, girls,” Black chimed in with a chuckle. “Listen, you’d better apologize properly…” Jacob raised his eyebrows, giving him a knowing look. “You know, like really lay it on thick.” He stuck out his tongue and pointed at him playfully.

“What?!” Embry pulled back in shock. “Dude, we’re not even eighteen yet!”

“Yeah, but that didn’t stop our classmate Betty.”

“Because our classmate Betty is just... just…” Embry paused, searching for a more tactful way to say it. “She's just a bad girl! And [Y/N] and I are not like that!”

“Maybe... damn it!” Jacob shouted as the tire slipped off, pinning him under the car while he was still lying underneath it. “Embry, get me out of here! I should have bought a new jack!”

Sitting on the floor next to Jacob, Embry couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't every day that your best friend had a car fall on him. Jacob didn't appreciate his buddy's good mood and shoved him playfully in the shoulder. They started to mock-fight after that. “Listen, about [Y/N]...” Embry paused for a moment, tuning into his friend's words. “Girls don’t just turn on ‘Sex and the City’ for nothing. Use your noggin, bro! Even Seth isn't as innocent as you think!”

“Well, at least you've got yourself a catch!” Your voice rang out like thunder in the serene garage, and suddenly, silence fell like a heavy shroud. “You’ve already stolen my guy! Are there no other options?” You strode up to Embry and passionately kissed him right in front of Jacob. He grimaced and rolled his eyes, while your guy, flustered, turned you both so that his back was facing Jacob. “He's mine!” you declared after the kiss. “And I'm taking him with me!” You grabbed Embry’s hand, intertwining your fingers, and led him toward the garage exit.

“Go ahead and take him, I've got plenty more like him!” Jacob chuckled, genuinely happy for his friend. “Just make sure to name your kid after me!”

“We’ll think about it!” you replied, wrapping your arms around Embry as you strolled casually to his house. You couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the boys’ conversation and realized that, with someone like Embry, you definitely wanted children. He took such good care of you and would never do anything to disrupt your comfort. Thus, you firmly decided that after you turned eighteen, you would gift him your heart and soul for his birthday. Although he was younger than you by just a few months, he certainly looked older and possessed a maturity that surpassed that of typical teenagers.

Lost in admiration as you gazed at his profile, you didn’t even notice that you had arrived at his home. Well, the evening promised to be enchanting.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Quil Ateara ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Quil was always a kind and calm guy. He had never raised his voice at you, and there was always a sense of peace in your relationship. But something had changed; he had grown sharper and more cautious, as if he were searching for someone in the darkness during your walks. He stopped spending the night at home, and you increasingly noticed him without a shirt. You knew the legend of the Quileutes. But surely, that was just a legend, right?

While wandering through the forest, you didn’t expect to encounter anyone else, let alone here, in your favorite spot where you and Quil used to have your dates. But there, sitting alone, was a pale-faced young man. As you accidentally stepped on a twig, the sharp crack echoed through the stillness, and he turned toward you abruptly. Your heart seemed to stop. His red eyes filled you with a primal fear, and you instinctively took a step back.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the guy smirked as he slid down from a large log, slowly approaching you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. “What are you doing all alone out here, gorgeous?” He laughed in a way that sent chills down your spine, and in the blink of an eye, he was right next to you, revealing his white, sharp teeth. “Didn't your parents teach you that wandering through the woods alone can be dangerous?” He leaned in closer to your neck, inhaling your scent and rolling his eyes in delight. “Mmm, I can just tell you’re going to be quite a treat…” His tongue traced along your collarbone as he gripped the fabric of your light summer dress, which seemed like it might tear under the pressure. “I’ll show you how…”

“Didn’t your parents teach you that you shouldn’t come on to other guys’ girls?” Quil’s broad back appeared, shielding you from the unknown guy who had been tossed aside by Quil with a considerable force. “I’ll wipe the floor with you, you disgusting bloodsucker.” Your boyfriend’s eyes turned crimson as he bent down and began to shake with rage. You heard the tearing of fabric, and in the place where your boyfriend stood, an enormous wolf emerged—one that was unmistakably different from the ordinary. You noticed another wolf leap out from the bushes, lunging at the pale-faced guy.

They tore him apart together. And then the wolf, which had taken Quill's place, ripped off the guy's head and spat it out.

You watched in horror as everything unfolded. First, some pervert, and then Quill appeared, transformed into that huge wolf; then another one joined, and they tore the guy's head off and... Wait, where did they go? Before you could collect your thoughts, the wolves vanished into the bushes, and then instead of them, Quill and Embry emerged. An angry Quill and a worried Embry.

“[Y/N]! What the hell are you doing wandering around by yourself like this?” he roughly grabbed your shoulders, lifting you off the cold ground.

“Quil, she's in shock, maybe…”

“Don't interfere, Embry!” After he shouted at his friend, Quil turned back to you, ready to say something more, but when he saw your tears, he stopped. “Sweetheart…” As an empath, he seemed to sense everything you were feeling. It pained him deeply, and he felt like tearing his own throat out. “You’re scared, aren’t you?” He pulled you into his gentle embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. “God, you smell like that corpse…” But he quickly added a smirk. “We’ll definitely need to get rid of that stench, huh?” Quil traced a line of soft kisses from your shoulder to your ear. “Tonight, we’re going to relax properly,” he whispered, his warm breath enveloping your ear. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you, now that you… well, you’ve seen it all.”

“Alright…” you whispered, sniffing back your tears. “I trust you.”

“How sweet,” Embry said, wiping away his accumulated tears as he sniffled. “You two are just perfect together.”

“Oh come on, Embry, get a grip, man.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ Jacob Black ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You’re happy that your boyfriend has such wonderful friends. But he talks about Bella too often. Are you having breakfast together? He starts saying how he’s eating Bella. Are you out for a walk? He tells you where he went with Bella. Are you working out together? He mentions Bella's body and how fragile she is compared to you. That was the last straw.

You’re sitting with the guys at Emily’s, ordering pizza. Somehow, the conversation shifts from Seth wetting his pants as a kid to "Bella’s relationships with a vampire." Jacob, of course, chimes in, passionately defending Bella and blaming everything on Edward. Then, out of the blue, Jared makes a slip about the recent kiss between Jake and Bella, and suddenly the room falls silent, all eyes on you.

You bite your lip and bolt out of the house. Jacob barely catches up to you, grabbing your arm. You yell at him in response. Those who were inside the house rush out to see what’s happening. “Don’t you dare touch me!” you scream, shoving him away. “I've had enough! I’m tired of putting up with this kind of treatment! I like Bella and I'm fine with your communication with her, but you've crossed the line!”

“[Y/N], let me explain…”

“No, Jacob. It's over.” You tried to pull your hand free from his strong grip, but it was no use. “Let me go!” You couldn't hold back any longer and slapped him across the face. Everyone who was laughing fell silent at the sound of the pained cry that escaped your lips. “Damn it! Damn it!” You pressed your injured hand against yourself and dropped to your knees. The guy tried to approach you, but you pushed him away with your healthy hand. Then Embry and Quil rushed over, helping you to your feet and guiding you into the car to take you to the Cullens.

“Now that’s a solid punch,” Jared chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, puppies need to be trained.” Almost immediately, he received a punch to the stomach from Jacob.

Jacob paced back and forth, reflecting on his behavior. Had he really messed up? Undoubtedly. He had kissed someone else's girlfriend while he already had one of his own. Slapping himself on the cheek, Jacob sank down onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. Just then, he heard his father opening the front door and conversing with someone. Straining to listen, he quickly recognized your voice and bolted out of his room, knocking things over in his haste.

The moment he caught sight of you, he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a joyful spin. With a health hand, you playfully tapped his shoulder, signaling him to set you down.

“Forgive me! I'm so messed up!” He finally set you down on the floor. “I swear I’ll never do anything like that again. You’re my one and only! I didn’t realize how much you were hurting.” He let go of your head but immediately lifted it again. “Go on, hit me as hard as you can so that I feel the pain!” He spread his arms wide, exposing his chest and waiting for you to strike.

“Oh, no! I’m not going to hit you!” You waved your casted arm in front of him, chuckling.

“I think I'm going to hit him!” Jared's voice echoed who had brought you here, as he approached Jacob, and without a second thought, he shoved his friend outside and landed a solid punch to his gut, sending Jacob flying several meters and crashing through a couple of trees. You stood there in shock, mouth agape, watching Jacob laugh as he dusted himself off, shaking off the dirt and debris.

“Well, now he definitely won’t be bothering you anymore,” Jared winked at you, then took off running as Jacob playfully tried to retaliate with a mock punch. You let out a deep sigh, and suddenly heard a matching weighty sigh beside you. Billy shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and invited you to join him for a cup of tea, sensing that the boys would keep up their antics for quite some time.

© 2024 do not reblog, copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages.

[sarawritestories]

Hello! Could i request a cassian fic where reader and cassian are gone on a mission but reader gets her cycle halfway and when they stay overnight at an inn or something cassian finds reader really exhausted and numb and puts the pieces together realising she might be on her period because she is too shy to tell him. so cassian helps her through her cramps and all. Just lots of fluff.

This is absolutely perfection! I hope I did this justice for you! This also features a trop I was requested to do by @hellodarling1357 that may include one bed 😄

I Got You, Sweetheart

Cassian X fem Reader

Summary: Going on a mission with Cassian is all fun and games until your cycle makes an unexpected appearance.

Content warning: none

Word Count: 1.7 k

ACOTAR Masterlist

“Keep up slowpoke. We’re almost there.” Cassian yells from a mile away the warmth and light of the Spring Court sun making him almost ethereal. I scowl at him as I huff breath leaning against the tree trunk trying to catch my breath. This trek on the hillside of the Spring court wouldn’t be an issue for me but today the incline is exhausting me. Cassian began running in place only to be stopped by him sneezing. I giggle as I continue forward handing him my handkerchief when I walk past. “I fucking hate this place.” Cassian grumbles as he blows his nose.

 I look out at the expanse of land that lives in eternal spring. The vibrant hues of the territory were beautiful various shades of greens and pinks. Greenery everywhere even when walking into the village. I take a moment and let the warmth of the sun kiss my skin and warm my face. “Its not all bad,” I look to him and wink, as he scratches your chest, “One day we’ll get you a tonic so you can actually enjoy being here.”

Cassian stops scratching and continues forward, “I doubt I would like it. With the High Lord being a prick.” I roll my eyes and follow him. Ironically enough Feyre was the one that asked us to come here and try to provide aid to the villages. When she asked, I could see the guilt on her face, she felt bad for how she handled destroying her former lover’s court, and no one had seen Tamlin in a few months.  I agreed and she insisted I bring Cassian and gave me a suggestive look as she did. Busybody.

 Looking in front of me and admired the General’s wings twitching, itching to spread out but he was not taking any chances of an enemy aiming for them. “I can feel you staring, Sweetheart.”

 He speaks out and I jump as we reach another steep incline. I took another deep breath and kept moving. I keep my focus on the back of Cassian’s head and force down the exhaustion and the slight pain in my abdomen.

We reach the village when the sun begins to set, and I grab Cassian’s arm as I look at the sun going down the various shades of orange and pink painting the sky in a bloom of color. “I should ask Feyre to paint more scenery pieces. This view is breathtaking.” I lean my head on his arm as Cassian chuckles.

“Tell me are you going to fill the house of wind with all of Feyre’s paintings?”

“Maybe. And when I get done with all the public areas, I’ll start redecorating rooms.” I smirk at him, “Starting with yours.”

Cassian squints his eyes and gets close to my face our foreheads touching, “You wouldn’t dare.”

I giggle and flick his nose, “You’re cute when you’re acting like you don’t like the idea of me in your room.”

Cassian blinked and straightened back to his full height clearing his throat ready to change the subject. A wave of pain ran through my abdomen again and I winced in pain, Cassian’s brows knitted together, scanning me as if he can see where the source of my pain came from, “You alright?”

I wave him off, “I’m sure I’m just hungry. Should we find an Inn?” Cassian nods and leads us into a village, his wing extending to me, to shield me from the temperature dip as the sun lowered.

The inn was full of loud boisterous patrons. The low lighting of the fae lights cast a warm glow over the tavern portion. Patrons filled the tables some were a few farmers cheering for a fruitful harvest. There was a family enjoying their dinner and faintly in the back corner two lovers were tied in an embrace. Cassian’s breath warmed my pointed ear, “Go find a seat I’ll get us a room.”

 I nod and look for a seat. Finding a spot near the stairs that lead to the rooms, I plop on the seat and exhaustion hits me full force followed by another bout of pain. I groan and place my head on the cool wooden table. The sounds of the tavern become muted as I close my eyes and try to ignore the pain and then I smell it and my eyes blink open wide. No. No. it can’t be. I’m two weeks early, and I’m growing dizzy. I try to move to sit up against the wall, my head swirling and swirling to the point of feeling numb.

 Cassian comes in, “They had one room left with two beds.” He smiles and he looks at me and he frowns.

I raise my arm to poke his cheek, “Hey, you turned your smile into a frown. Fix it.”

He grips my wrist, “What is goin-“ Then his eyes goes wide. “Ohhh. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” He helped me up, His hand staying on my back just to let me know he was there.

 We reach the top of the stairs; Cassian grabs my hand and leads me to our room. When he turns the key and Cassian curses. I look inside, the last room with two beds, looks awful like one bed. And a bad Cramp made me cling to Cassian in a whimper, “Cass.” I tilted my head up to blink away the tears.

Maybe it’s the delirium I give him a weak smile, “Can I have you?”

Cassian looks down at me his mouth in a tight libe, and his warm eyes fill with concern. He hooks his arms under my knees and wrapped and around my shoulders, “I got you, Sweetheart.” I lean my head around his neck, and I barely notice his heartbeat as he crosses to the bed. He places me down tenderly. “I need to grab some things for you, beautiful. Do you want anything in particular?” He crouches down to meet my eyes and brushes my hair behind my ear, and I lean into his touch.

Cassian smiles, and kisses my forehead, “We can talk about that when I get you everything you need.” He stands and I grip his hand, “Sweetheart, you need a tonic for the pain, you will need fresh undergarments, you need your nightgown. Please let me take care of you.” He bends down to kiss my knuckles. “I won’t be long.”

I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to Cassian nudging me. I peel my eyes open and smile as his hazel eyes and met mine, “Hi.”

Cassian’s grin broadens, “Hey, you.” He has a vial in his hand, “Sit up for me, will your sweets.”

I attempt to but then a sharp waive of pain washed over me and I cried out, “Cassie, it hurts.” Cassian’s face falls, I only pull out that name when things are out of control.

“I know, baby, let me help take the pain away but I need you to at least lift your head, can you do that?”

I slowly nod and l lift my head, Pain explodes behind my eyes, but I grit my teeth and keep my head there as Cassian uncorks the vial. He cups my cheek trying to hold my head up for me, wiping tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Open for me.” I open my mouth and he tilt the vile so the liquid can go down my throat. He gently lays my head back down. “You want me to help get you in comfortable clothes?”

I nod my head, “Please, anything that can keep me from getting up would be preferred.” I whispered. He nodded and with skill and precision he got me out of my leathers and into the night gown he provided. I turned to my side so I could face him as he grabbed something from his bag, “What’s that?”

He smiled and opened the bag to reveal a piece of chocolate cake, I smiled. “I figured you could use it.”

I looked at him and tears began to form, “You’re too good to me. I envy the female who ends up your mate. She will be very lucky.”

Cassian’s face fell as he tore a piece of the cake with his fork and held it to my lips, I took a bite and hummed in approval. Cassian bit his lip and looked at me, “I have a mate.”

My hormones are raging, and my tears become soft sobs, at least that’s what I’m telling myself. “What’s she like? Do you like her? Does she know?”

Cassian takes a bite of the cake. “I don’t know. How Would you describe yourself?”

I furrow my brow as he places the fork with a bite of the cake that I graciously take and then it hit me. The bond snapped and the gold tether led me to Cassian. “Cass.”

He shushes me. “We will talk about it when you’re better. Right now, my mate is hurting, and I would very much like to take care of her.”

Tears kept flowing as he feeds me more cake, “She would like that.” Another wave of pain hits me, and my sobs take over. Cassian walks away and pulls off his leathers, replacing them with sleeping pants and climbs over me to the other side of the bed.

He gently turns me over and maneuvers us so my head is on his warm chest and his wing curved over me to provide extra warmth. And he holds me like that until my sobs get under control and he rubs his hand up and down my arm in soothing circles. My eyes began to droop, “Cassian?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with sleep as well.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Cassian kisses my forehead, and the tip of my nose and his lips meet mine in a tender loving kiss. When he pulls away, he presses his head to mine, “I wanted to do that for so long.”

I yawn and shut my eyes, “Now you can kiss me for say eternity.”

Cassian yawns as well, “Sounds like a good plan.”

Thanks for reading!

[floraltypes]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ people pleaser (☕️)

pairing - jim halpert x reader

synopsis - jim is known to be likable, so the one person he really has grown to enjoy seemingly not liking him is very frustrating

request - 900 event!

Despite sitting right beside him, your eyes seem to always look past his. It had been almost a complete month since the newest co-worker of Dunder Mifflin- you- arrived and you still won’t look at him. It is not so secretly getting to him. 

It was clear from the moment you arrived that you made the dull office seem brighter. With your smile and sweet beauty, you chatted up everyone. Sure, you were more quiet but you still tried to come out of your shell.

He admired that aspect about you—the way you’d bashfully let Dwight blather on and on about some stupid beet rant and kindly explain something to the vibrant Kelly, who would rather chat your ear off about royalty drama. Somehow, in one way or another, you had done something kind for everyone in the office, even Jim, yet he was still spiraling. 

You would quietly bring him coffee after getting some for yourself, yet never said anything more than placing it on his desk and returning back to your work.

“I don’t get it,” he sighed, legs crossed and furrowed brows while staring at the camera. “Did I give her a mean look the first day? Accidentally take a potential client? She just refuses to talk to me!” he waved his hands around, clearly stressed. 

“Have you tried being nice?” one of the people behind the camera asked. 

“I mean, yeah!” 

“Oh my,” you agitatedly whispered underneath your breath, hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while peering at the never-ending circle of death. The bright colors were now spinning for ten minutes and you had tried everything. 

“You alright?” Jim looked up from his work to see your mouth downturned and face sour. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, typing something into the keyboard while waving the mouse around the screen. “The website might just be down.”

“Mine works fine.”

“Thanks,” you grimaced, your voice clearly showing how annoyed you were at the moment. At your reaction, Jim flushed a bit, fearful that he was giving you another thing to hate about him. Therefore, in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen, he made it a mission to help you. 

He stood up from his desk, walking the few steps to your own where he leaned over the side of you, now scanning his eyes through the computer screen in hopes of seeing something you had not. 

You could feel his breath on the open skin of your neck; he was so close, his hand gripping one edge of the desk, near where your own arm lay with his hand on top of the mouse. Inside your stomach was experiencing that familiar stirring feeling when you encompassed Jim Halpert.

“I don’t hate Jim,” you quietly answered the question, sitting uncomfortably in front of the camera. “Why would you think that?”

“Did you try doing that command exit?” he questioned, looking down at you, a few wisps of hair falling across his forehead. You couldn’t help but stare at the new look—the way his eyes always seemed so soft when they looked at you. But, then again, he was just such a nice guy that it probably was like that with everyone. 

“Didn’t work,” you hum, forcing yourself to face away and keep your sights on the computer screen. This action now gave Jim a similar opportunity to look over your features. The way you nervously bit at your lip and the creases from your current stress were evident near your eyebrows. Something fluttered within him, and he wished to just gently smooth them before placing a sof- “I’ve tried everything.”

"Well, there is one way, if you head to the search bar.” Pushing his thoughts aside, he moved his hand up a bit to reach for the mouse. In return, he accidentally grabbed the top of your hand. “Oh."

“It’s fine!” You accidentally yelled, looking around at the stares from disrupting fellow co-workers. You quieted down and tried to leave your seat. “I’ll just go talk to IT, call them, or something. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He hesitated before removing his hand from your own, and like an ignored puppy, he relocated back to his desk, sending a defeated look towards the camera, trying to signal them to look away.

All that was swirling through his mind is that, somehow, he gave you another reason to despise him. All that was swirling through your mind was that your crush on the naturally kind man was escalating fast, and you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. 

This was merely one example of Jim’s attempt at showing extra kindness to you, a chance for you to grow a liking to the genuinely sweet man (even though you already had, he just wasn’t informed on that information). Later on in the week, he was determined to do a coffee drop-off, as you had done for him many times. 

It was the later hours of the night; Michael's lack of organization led to two salespeople having to stay later and fix his mistake. After too many rounds of rock paper scissors, it was concluded that you and Jim were the (un)lucky winners. 

“I’ve almost finished with the first pile,” he perked up at the sound of your voice, soft humming exiting your lips after the small comment. “I should be able to finish up the next one rather quickly.” 

“Same here,” he hummed, tapping his pen on his desk. “Weird without everyone.”

“Mhm,” you nodded in agreement, scribbling away with no mind to his words. 

“I’ll be back.” exiting his area, he made his way to the darkened kitchen area. Luckily there was a pot left, and pouring a bit into two cups—your specifically designed one and his striped one—he plopped them in the microwave to heat up. 

“Hey, does it look like the name-” You suddenly stopped your question upon noticing that your co-worker had disappeared. With much interest and confusion, you now followed the beaming light to where he stood, blowing your coffee a bit. “Jim?”

“Ah!” he hastily put the cup down. 

“What are you doing?”

“Providing you a good cup of Joe,” he hesitantly smiled, lifting up the green mug. “I warmed them up too long; I don’t want your tongue to burn off or something.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, giggles erupting, which made him just want to join in. “You’re so kind,” you mumbled, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. 

Jim was stunned, stuck in place, his eyes wide, and ears almost seemed to perk up at such a compliment. “You think I’m nice?”

“You’re the nicest person in the office, probably.”

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why do people think that?” You shook your head. 

“It’s just, well, you act so differently. I try extra hard to be nice; I don’t know if when you first started working here I somehow did something to... tick you off?”

“Oh,” was all you could muster up at the moment, nerves once again kicking in at the way his body heat seemed to be radiating and a soft glow was in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize; it’s just, I actually just want to get to know you more.” 

“Jim, you’re kind, but you don’t need to do anything extra for me. I’ve noticed your politeness and all of these acts; it makes me overthink things.” With a sigh, you let him know the truth, shoulders slumped due to the confession. “It’s not your fault; it’s mine; I just don’t want to take things out of context.”

“You think I learned the way you take your coffee just to be friendly?” you nodded at his question. “Even the way I always drop off a specific candy bar if you’re having a bad day or e-mail a funny message about animals because that always seems to make you smile? Have I ever done any of that for Dwight, Angela, or even Stanley?”

There is silence, and for once, you ponder to yourself that you may not be overthinking everything after all. Jim places his hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing over the fabric. “It’s not as if I like them in the way I like you.” 

And after those words tumble from his lips, that hand moves up to cup your cheek, mouth leaning in to place itself upon your own. He can taste your coffee concoction on his lips now and finally get to feel the softness of your cheeks. Similar to a boy's first kiss, he opens his eyes, trying to admire your features (finally) up close. 

“Well, it’s obvious he confessed,” Pam laughed, rolling her eyes while speaking in the confessional. “He shows that lovesick smile all the time; I would know, I’m his best friend. It was even obvious that she liked him, but I figured it would be better for him to find that out on his own.”

The camera went on to pan into where you and Jim were giggling at the candy on the receptionist's desk. He stole a piece from your hands, plopping it into his mouth, and you lightly smacked his arm in response. Jim’s lips twitched, hands grabbing your own hand, and just shaking his head before letting it loose. To Jim, the confession was liberating; he was known to be a people-pleaser but especially a you-pleaser. Yet, hiding his growing affection from the office staff would be more difficult than he imagined.

the office masterlist

[naomijoestar]

What if there was a stand who made a perfect replica of Fugo personality wise but the colors of Fugo #2 are the manga palette ones... As Fugo's S/O, they kept craddling the #2 face, and observing him and making him flustered... and Fugo can't be jealous of a 'bad' copy of himself, right? but he is-- ft Narancia and Mista annoying Fugo even more bc what are besties for

Masterlist here <3

This is so cuteness hehe I love this 👀 I hope you enjoy ‘cause I know I did

Fugo’s s/o obsessing over a Fugo replica leading him to get jealous

The stand’s ability was strange enough on its own, but the fact that it could make a perfect replica of Fugo, down to his mannerisms and sarcasm, was almost too much to process. Well, almost. Because there was one glaring difference: the replica had white hair and a sharp red suit, making him look like some kind of alternate universe version of Fugo. And you? You were absolutely fascinated

“Wow,” you murmured, gently cradling Fugo #2’s face in your hands. His sharp red eyes widened as you leaned in closer, your gaze scanning every detail of his features. “You’re… just like him. But the colors… you’re so vibrant. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

The replica squirmed under your touch, his face heating up with a very Fugo-like blush. “C-could you stop that? This is entirely unnecessary! There’s no reason to—”

“Shh,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “You even sound like him when you’re flustered.”

Meanwhile, the real Fugo stood a few feet away, hands clenched into tight fists, his expression stuck somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What the hell are you doing?! That’s not me! That’s not even a real person—it’s a stand! Stop fawning over it!”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why are you so upset? It’s just a copy. You’re not jealous of yourself, are you?”

The sound of Narancia and Mista bursting into laughter behind him was immediate and deafening

“Oh my God,” Narancia wheezed, doubled over and holding his stomach. “Fugo, you’re jealous of yourself! This is amazing!”

“Man, imagine losing to a knockoff version of you,” Mista added, smirking as he slapped a hand on Fugo’s shoulder. “This is just sad.”

“I am not jealous!” Fugo snapped, his face now matching the replica’s red suit. “And stop touching it! I don’t know what it is, but it’s not me! You’re all acting ridiculous!”

“Not me,” Giorno said quietly from the corner, sipping his tea

But you weren’t paying attention to any of them. You were too busy tracing the edges of Fugo #2’s jawline, marveling at how real he felt. “Even your skin feels the same…”

“Enough!” Fugo’s voice was a mix of exasperation and something dangerously close to panic. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you away, glaring at the replica like it had personally insulted him. “I’m putting a stop to this. Right now.”

“Aw, c’mon, Fugo,” Narancia teased, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You should be flattered! They’re clearly into you. Twice over.”

“Yeah, you’re just mad because he’s got better drip,” Mista added, pointing at the red suit

Fugo’s eye twitched. “You’re both useless.”

As the replica disappeared—its time up, or perhaps dispelled by Fugo’s fury—you reached out and patted Fugo’s cheek, trying to hide your grin. “I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. You’re still my favorite.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know whether to thank you or yell at you.”

From behind him, Narancia and Mista kept laughing, making sure he wouldn’t live this down anytime soon

I hope you like this! I just wanna thank you because this idea was so silly and I love it so much <3

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[luvzshy]

Canvas of Emotions

Pairing: Billie Eilish x Reader

Word Count: 2k

summary: As Billie Eilish’s partner and an artist, you’re tasked with creating the cover for her next album. In the cozy sanctuary of your shared space, surrounded by paintbrushes and soft music, you delve into the emotions that inspire your art. Together, you share late-night talks, laughter, and intimate moments that reveal the depth of your connection. Through the process of creation, you both confront your fears and dreams, finding solace in each other. Your relationship flourishes as the artwork evolves into a heartfelt representation of your love—a safe haven where both your souls can express their true colors.

Billie Eilish lounged on the couch, her brown hair cascading over the pillows in soft waves. The warm light filtering through the windows made the room feel like a safe haven, filled with the gentle chaos of art supplies scattered around. You sat on the floor, surrounded by paint tubes and brushes, staring at a blank canvas that seemed to reflect the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Hey,” Billie said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You good?”

You nodded, but the truth was, your mind was racing. “I just want this to be perfect.”

Billie chuckled softly. “You know it doesn’t have to be perfect, right? It just needs to be real.” She picked up her guitar, strumming a few casual chords that filled the room with familiar warmth.

“I know, I know,” you replied, trying to shake off the pressure. “But this cover represents you, and I want it to capture everything about you.”

She set the guitar aside and scooted closer, her presence grounding you. “Why don’t we brainstorm together? What do you want it to say?”

You paused, feeling her energy wrap around you like a cozy blanket. “I want it to express the chaos of emotions in your music—hope, heartbreak, and everything in between.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, leaning her head on your shoulder. “But don’t forget to add us—how we fit into that chaos.”

Your heart fluttered at her words. “Us,” you repeated, feeling the weight of what that meant. Your relationship wasn’t just about love; it was about partnership and navigating the messiness of life together.

As you dipped your brush into the paint, vibrant swirls began to take shape on the canvas, mirroring your feelings. Billie watched you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm. “I love seeing you in your element,” she said, her voice sincere. “You get lost in it.”

“I guess it’s my escape,” you replied, glancing at her. “Just like music is for you.”

With each stroke, you found your rhythm, and the tension started to melt away. The music in the background inspired you, sparking new ideas.

“Remember the first time we went to that open mic night?” Billie asked, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“How could I forget? You were so nervous!” You laughed, recalling how she fidgeted with her hair, her anxiety palpable.

“I know! And then you yelled ‘You’ve got this!’ from the crowd,” she said, chuckling at the memory. “It gave me the push I needed.”

“And you killed it!” You nudged her playfully. “That was the moment I fell even more in love with you.”

Billie blushed, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. “Stop it! You’re making me feel all mushy.”

But you loved that. You loved seeing her break her cool exterior, revealing the warmth and softness underneath.

As the hours passed, the canvas slowly transformed into a visual representation of your shared experiences—abstract shapes representing chaotic emotions layered with moments of tenderness. You’d take a step back occasionally, and Billie would give her feedback, her encouragement making you push your creativity further.

Then, suddenly, the laughter faded, replaced by a wave of anxiety that washed over you. You paused, your breath quickening. The pressure of getting everything right flooded your mind, and the world around you began to feel overwhelming.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Billie said, her tone shifting to concern as she noticed the change in your demeanor. She moved closer, taking your hands in hers. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me.”

You squeezed her hands, trying to ground yourself in the moment. “I don’t know why I’m feeling this way,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

“It’s okay to feel anxious,” she replied gently. “You’re not alone. Just take a deep breath in… and out.”

With her guidance, you focused on your breathing. The steady rhythm of her voice calmed the storm inside you. “In… and out,” she continued, matching your breath. “You’ve got this. I’m right here.”

Slowly, you felt the panic subside, replaced by the comfort of her presence. “Thanks, Billie,” you whispered, relief flooding through you.

“Always,” she said, a soft smile breaking through the worry on her face. “Remember, this is our safe space. We’re in this together.”

Feeling stronger, you returned your focus to the canvas. As you painted, you could feel the love and support radiating from Billie. It was a reminder that your relationship was built on understanding and resilience.

As the night wore on, the finished piece stood before you, a colorful expression of your emotions and experiences together. You admired it, feeling a sense of pride.

“I love it,” Billie said, standing beside you. “It feels so… us.”

You turned to her, your heart swelling. “Just like our life—chaotic, but beautiful.”

Billie wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Exactly. And that’s what makes it home.”

In that moment, you knew that no matter how anxious life got, you’d always have each other to lean on. Together, you’d navigate the messiness of emotions, finding comfort and love in every stroke of the brush.

[the-kr8tor]

Hello!! I’ve been enjoying all your works so far, love the way you portray hobie 🥺❤️

Hope you don’t mind me adding to your requests but can you write something or hobie’s s/o (gender neutral pls) gifting hobie handcrafted items with flowers from different universes?

Just made a bunch of pressed flower stickers and they’re really pretty 🥹

Hi hun! Thank you so much, you're too sweet 🥹 I'm not very familiar with handcrafted items, I hope you like this one!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: established relationship, no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF, lovestruck Hobie.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie finds a long-stemmed bright sunflower carefully placed on the doorstep of his dorm inside the spider society's Headquarters.

Hobie, tired from his last mission, bends down, his aching muscles immediately protesting; but he continues on, gingerly grabbing the stem of the flower. He twirls it around his fingers, admiring the petals, Hobie notices whenever the bright florescent light hits its petals, an iridescent sheen shines slightly turning the sunny yellow into a vibrant orange with a hint of red.

He immediately knows where the flower came from, the familiar shine of the flower fits with Earth- 2149. Hobie smiles tiredly, knowing this is your way of telling him you missed him, thanks to all the constant missions assigned to the both of you, couple it up with your regular spidey responsibilities, you haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks.

But for Hobie, it seems like it's been months without you, He misses you, a lot. Hobie searches for a note, but finds none, guess you were in a hurry.

You keep missing each other too, when he finally has the free time to hang out, Dock Ock attacks your city. When you finally have a little time off in between missions (enough time to rest and recharge with Hobie, but still not enough for your taste) Hobie's bracelet rings out, Miguel's booming voice sounds out asking for backup, you're left standing in the middle of spider society's hallway; the warmth left by Hobie's quick hug, makes you miss him more.

He sighs, punching in the code to his room.

If not for the flowers you've been leaving him these past few days, he wouldn't be able to survive another day without your embrace. Thanks to your little reminders, Hobie finds the strength to go another day without you.

The door slides open, his eyes strain at the darkness of the room, Hobie takes off his suit, piece by piece. He hisses when he accidentally hits his injured shoulder on the wall. Turning on the lights, he's greeted with various flowers you've left him these past few days. His room is littered with makeshift vases adorned with shimmering flowers of various shapes and shades.

He smiles when a slight breeze enters his open window, the sweet smell of the flowers wafting his senses, for a second he thinks you're with him.

Hobie has a forlorn look in his eyes, he walks towards a drinking glass turned vase, fingers rub over the tulip's petals. He remembers when this one first arrived, tucked neatly inside his vest, a little note strapped to its stem– be careful, love you. Your handwriting is unmistakable, you even added in a cartoon drawing of you, blowing him a kiss.

He reluctantly moves away from its petals, Hobie drags his feet, walking towards his waiting bed, he roams his droopy eyes over the flowers, remembering when and where he got them.

A pink carnation that seemed like it's painted with water colors, you lovingly left this one on his pillow one morning, with a crude drawing of Miguel angrily yelling, for the multiverse!

A multi-colored peony you pinned on his vest before you left. Your note reads: Don't forget to hydrate! Tea doesn't count, babe.

A crown made from black and white daisies, placed on top of his favourite book, a little drawing of you both wearing flower crowns and smiling is taped to the sides.

An unusual looking orchid you practically tossed at him before running towards a portal, thanks to his spidey senses, he saved it from getting mangled by running feet. The note dangling from its stem, missed you, wanna kiss you.

And so much more that he's too tired to remember. Hobie internally curses at his sleepy brain.

He lands on top of his bed with a thump. Falling asleep almost immediately.

Hobie gets woken up by a presence slowly untying his boots. He cranes his neck down, chin meeting the top of his chest.

"What?" He asks, groggily, voice heavy in his throat.

You snap your head up, looking straight at his tired eyes. "Shit, I woke you up, didn't mean to, 'm sorry" you hissed out, fingers pausing on his shoe laces.

Hobie blinks, twice, is he still dreaming? He blinks again, but when your familiar form doesn't disappear from his view, his heart soars.

"Sorry, Hobie, but you still had your boots on, and–"

He reaches out to you, "Come 'ere, lovey"

You crawl on top of him without question, laying your full weight on him. You try to move to his side, just in case you're crushing him, but he stops you with a strong arm over your back.

You rest your chin on his chest, tired eyes mirroring Hobie's. "You missed me?" You tease him despite your exhaustion.

Hobie rubs gently over the eyebags forming under your eyes, you sigh into his touch "when'd you last sleep?"

"Does blinking count?" You fight a yawn. "Miguel should start paying us more, saving the multiverse isn't enough anymore"

Hobie chuckles, your head bobs up and down, earning a lopsided grin from you. God, you missed his laugh.

His knuckles massage your back, sliding over the spandex of your suit "Too tired to change?"

"Mmhm, why? Do I smell?" You sniff at your shoulder.

Hobie lifts you up by the armpits so your head slots perfectly on the crook of his neck, you fit right in like a missing puzzle piece.

"No," he hugs you tighter, both arms securing you right on top of him, Hobie loudly sniffs at you "nah, actually" he sniffs at you again, "yeah, you do" Hobie grins.

You gasp out, clutching at your chest, faking that you're offended by his comment. "Maybe I should shower then" you try to move away, but Hobie curls his arms tighter around your torso, locking you in.

You giggle at his antics.

He buries his face on your head, "you smell like the flowers you gave me" Hobie's voice is soft, if it weren't for your enhanced hearing, you wouldn't have heard him.

"You liked them?" you'd tease him for his comment later, but right now, you both needed to rest.

"Mmhm" he pecks your scalp "especially the drawings" Hobie says in between kisses.

"Good, because I have another one." You procure a pressed red rose from your back pocket. He wonders which universe this one came from.

"I'll add it to my collection then" Hobie admires the pressed flower thoroughly, this one seemed different from the rest, more loved. He concludes that it's from your own dimension.

Your eyes close, finally succumbing to fatigue.

"Missed you" he answers your previous question, you heard him before you could fall asleep, smiling as you cuddle Hobie.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it! ❤️❤️❤️

[kkukverse]

his dandelion

pair: Taehyung x athlete!reader (fem.reader)

genre: high school au, childhood friends au

warnings & ratings: mentions of injuries | fluff, angst

word count: 4k

author's note: happy birthday, winter bear.

You were both thirteen when Taehyung wanted to be your friend.

He sat next to you in art class, only with his dark charcoal pencil as his utensil. He drew peculiar lines and shapes and sometimes portraits. Your teacher loves them but you cannot understand it. 

Your teacher once said that he would’ve made an astounding art prodigy if his arts were to be seen by the world. She said his talent is hidden in this crappy little island. But Taehyung doesn’t really mind it, he once whispered to you, “I like it here, I don’t think my art is that big of a deal anyway. It’s not like I’m Van Gogh or something”

You laughed along because at thirteen years old, you never knew nor cared about a guy named Van Gogh. Taehyung used to tell you about that guy. Not wanting to look ignorant, you used all of your extra pocket money to get into Mr. Lee’s cyber cafe. Using the internet to find out more about the man Taehyung always talks about. 

You were confused, for someone who painted in vibrant color, Van Gogh is actually a sad guy. 

Unlike him. Taehyung was a vibrant kid and you noticed he only used dark colors in his paintings. You always paint everything in red and yellow. Those are your favorite, probably because of your field and track jersey. Since you keep seeing those colors, you tend to use them the most.

One day, on your practice day, Taehyung sat spreading his legs on the bench. Quite close to you but you still squint your eyes. Unsure if it’s actually him or just some other boy who wore the exact baggy beige pants that you always see on him, why is he here? Maybe he’s waiting for a friend. 

You just finished a total of five set a hundred meter runs before you realized that he is actually looking at you. From almost a yard away from him, you waved your hand “Taehyung?”

“Yea,” one arm on his knee, the other one waving back at you.

“Waiting for someone?” you yelled, hoping that he can hear you.

“No one, just watching you,” Taehyung answered.

You jog closer to him, because you think you misheard that he was here watching you, not waiting for someone. Wait? 

“What?” You pant while wiping sweat on your forehead. 

“I said, I was watching you running,” he beamed, looking up at you. He was holding back a laugh seeing your face twitch in confusion.

“There isn’t any particular reason. I was just nearby when I saw your team having a practice.” 

“And somehow you decided to stay?” You asked.

“I am curious. I really wanted to see you in the field. I saw you in your jersey all the time after our class. I never gets to see you in action, so yea, I decided to stay and watch you,”

“Well, that’s…”

“Too weird?” Taehyung scooted to provide you some space on the bench. His big hand lightly taps on the free spot, luring you to sit next to him.

“No, not really. We just don’t really talk in class and I was just..shocked?” You’re making sure there’s a gap in between your thighs and his because you’re conscious of your sweaty smelly self. 

He chuckled and you stared at his boxy smiles. There it is, the infamous smile that swooned everyone in this little island.

“Silly, I thought we’re already friends? At least I considered us friends the moment you let me borrow your yellow paint.” He turns his whole upper body, fully facing you now. 

The yellow paint was a cheap one. It was not even that bright. In fact, all colours in the paint set are dull and pale. It was affordable and your mom did her best to buy it. Bless her heart. Taehyung uses your yellow paint for the dandelion he drew. What you didn’t know was, he may purposely draw the dandelions so he can talk to you. 

“Oh yeah.” You agreed along.

Crap. I’m so sweaty like a pig right now, you thought. 

“Let’s make it more clear, can we be friends?” Taehyung smiles at you.

“Sure,” was your only answer. 

Dammit you can feel the sweat running down the valley of your prepubescent beasts and you wanted this to end before Taehyung can see it through your thin jersey. 

Since that day, Taehyung never missed a day of your practice. Just sitting all by himself on the bench until it’s over, and after that you walked home together. 

At seventeen, he wiped the tears and kissed the pain away.

If Taehyung was told to rate three of his hardest moments in his life, number three would be sending you off on the ferry to town. 

You have become a successful athlete, number one track runner in your hometown representing your school. You were always away for running events.

Once a month, you’re cruising on the ferry, off to the big city. It pains Taehyung to watch you go out of the island where he is still stuck there. But he insisted on sending you and picking you up. Because that way he can soothe his heart by sending you safely and knowing you will always come back home.

Just like any other month. Taehyung is waiting by the station on his bike. Ready to pick you up.

He is imagining your silly face with a gold medal on your neck. “Taetae I won! Again!” Like any other month. Taehyung can’t help it. He has grown to care about you a lot. He has become your number one supporter, always there at the finished line.

Taehyung knows by heart the schedule of the ferry. The ferry leaves at seven every morning and the last trip from the town is always at before five in the evening. He knows the schedule like the back of his hand. It’s a small island. Nothing really goes wrong. Except if there is a storm or if the sea is unpleasant. Which was rare. 

He knows that the journey took two hours. It’s always two hours back and forth to the big city. Somehow right now his watch is pointing at seven. Later than usual. He kept himself calm by picturing you running to him. 

His eyes lit up the moment he saw the ferry. He patiently waits until every single one of the passengers is out of that ferry. Just like any other month, he predicted your loud scream can be heard by now.

 Except, this time it was silent.

The ferry was here but he couldn’t hear your giggles, his heart was beating fast. Something is not right.

Standing up straight, he runs to the ferry. Calling for you. 

His frantic eyes caught a few people still coming out but he couldn’t find you. What happened? Times like this makes him more anxious because he couldn’t call you. At seventeen, having a phone in this little island is a luxury. Promising himself to get a phone soon with the money he collected from part time jobs.

One hand on his hip and the other is rubbing his face, he broke into a cold sweat. His mind is moving too fast with questions. Were you left behind? Did something happen to you? Are you alone?

Just before he almost turned around and grabbed his bike to look for your coach or your mom, he saw a solemn figure at the back side of the ferry. 

His second hard moments in his life is watching you injured.

His heart beats like a drum when he sees you in crutches, one leg is wrapped and head down looking at the floor. He walks with a heavy heart to you, whispering your name as if calling you out loud would break your already fragile state.

“Hey, look at me,” Taehyung says softly as he holds your chin. Prompting you to look up to him. He gasped after his eyes set on your face. Your lower lip is busted and red with dried blood, your eyes are swollen, which he assumes from crying. He hates that he was right.

His greatest fear, your tears.

“Taetae,” the break in your voice is stabbing Taehyung all over the place.

“Shh, It’s okay, you’re okay.” He cupped your face with his hands. As gentle as he can. Eyes frowning seeing you in pain. Taehyung wishes there are things such as transferring pain because right now he wants to take yours.

“I lost,” you sob, letting tears and snot rolling down your face. The sting on your lip is the least pain you can feel.

“Oh dear, it’s just one lost. I’m sure you did your best.” Taehyung cooed as he wiped your tears and snot.

“No, it’s not gonna be one lost from now on. I tripped and fell so hard. It’s gonna take months to heal,” you hiccups and Taehyung swears this is the sound that breaks his heart the most and he vows to keep you away from it.

“I’m gonna miss the nationals, Tae what am I gonna do?” you wail. Breathing becomes hard. With hiccups and sobbing and a blurry view because of the tears, you’re breaking down in his arms.  

“Shh shh, take a deep breath for me. Come on baby, don’t scare me. Please, please breathe.” he puts his forehead on yours. Hoping to ground you back to him. Thumbs rubbing softly on your cheeks.

The term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you. Baby.

“Taetae,”. You were still sobbing as you leaned on him.

Taehyung is terrified, he never saw you cry this hard. He doesn’t know how to calm you and it kills him to not be able to do anything to lessen your pain. So he kissed you, softly. On your forehead, on your cheeks, on your eyelids, on your nose. 

The traces of his kisses feel like a feathery touch. And your sense is following his trails. Closing your eyes you’re no longer sobbing. Only soft whimpers fill the space.

“There we go. No more tears, baby.” Taehyung is relieved now that he can feel you breathing at a steady pace again. “Let’s go home,” he hesitated when his eyes landed on your lips. Swollen red from the biting. 

You noticed the lingering stare and with a beat of the heart you crashed your lips on his. Seeking comfort and warmth, Taehyung is soaring high. The kiss was like a warm wave. Languid and soft. Taehyung is so gentle. He peppers soft kisses around your busted lips. 

“Don't wanna hurt you,” he breathed. Pulling himself from the kiss, he rubs a soft circle on your cheek. “Let’s go home,” he added. 

He piggybacks you home first and comes back again later to pick up his bike and your crutches. From that day onward, you both knew that you aren’t just friends anymore.

You have been itching to get your feet back on track and once the cast is off, you swear you’re gonna spend every evening running. It wasn’t ideal since the injury was bad and you were advised to stay put until it completely healed. 

But you were so determined to get back on track because your only goal is getting into nationals. You have planned it out. Since you don’t perform well academically, running is your only golden ticket out of the island. You got to join the national teams. You must.

The evening after you took off your cast accompanied by Taehyung, you asked him to drop you off at the track field.

“What are we gonna do in the field? You’re not planning on running aren’t you?” Taehyung speaks with scrunched eyebrows. 

“Taetae, please. I really missed the track.” You pouted and he’s a goner.

“No running!” He pointed his finger at you. You smirk before pretending to bite it. 

“I’m serious. No running,” he gently flicked your forehead. “We’re just gonna take a walk, okay?” he hums, turning around to make sure you’re securely safe on the back of his bike.

“I promise.” You squeezed his waist, an answer yes I’m alright back here Taetae.

You have no idea how much you missed the track until Taehyung helped you down from the bike. The sudden gush of air fills your lungs like you’ve come up from drowning. Taehyung can sense that you’re become quite overwhelmed. His hand enveloping yours as he kissed your temple.

“Come on,” he whispered.

Rahhhh!! Rahhh!!! 

The chant of the crowd broke a smile on your face. You missed it, you missed smelling the old burgundy track, feeling the burn from the sun, the sweat and the satisfying burn in your lungs when you reached the finish line. 

You missed a certain someone waiting there. With his ridiculous boxy grin, and his booming cheers, muting other sounds and you can hear nothing but his voice. 

It is so hard to be the one sitting in the audience instead of being on the track.

Taehyung left you for a minute to buy some lemonade and you desperately need him to ground you. Otherwise you’d be a crying mess. Yearning to be on the track but your almost healing leg is holding you back.

It is an annual event, something like sports day for the people in your island. It wasn’t even a big event, unlike the ones you used to compete in. But your heart hummed in a painful tone. You’re jealous of those who can run freely on the track you held dear to your heart.

A soft tap on your shoulder broke you from wallowing in self-pity. Taehyung sat next to you, hands holding two cups of lemonade. He knows coming here is not a good idea but you woke up so early and dressed up to be here. He doesn’t have the heart to say no.

Seeing your frowning face, Taehyung started to think maybe he should’ve said no or maybe brought you somewhere else but here.

“Hey, did I tell you that Miss Choi is helping me submit my art to the National Art School?” Taehyung winced at his futile attempt to distract you. No, Taehyung, this isn’t about you. He bit the inner cheek. Handing you a cup of lemonade before he could think of anything to turn back the time.

“No way,” you gasped. He knows you’d be excited for him. But he didn’t expect how your face would just glow in excitement like this. He was glad. 

“Taetae! Why did you just tell me now? How could you!” you punched his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt a bit. Taehyung is still lost in your happy smile. 

“Ah, I'm so happy. Finally, Let the city people look at your art. They're gonna praise you Taetae!” You smile adoringly and Taehyung hated that he had one thought you wouldn’t be happy for him.

“Yea, but I’m not sure yet what piece I should submit. I’m not that good and nope before you can scream at me let me finish,” he raised his finger on your lips. Just managed to stop you from gasping out loud. 

What an outrageous statement! Kim Taehyung’s arts are the most magnificent arts. Though you have no clue how to appreciate art, you would break hell if people couldn’t appreciate his art.

“It’s a tough competition, even if my piece were received and reviewed, the chances of me getting in there are slim. There are so many talented artists out there, baby. Let’s not have high hopes. Not to mention I haven’t had a decent piece to submit yet.” he sighed. Shoulders slumped and he emptied the lemonade in one go.

He is nervous.

Looking at him, you squished his cheeks with your hands. “Look at me,” you demanded.

“Your art is the most breathtaking art I have ever seen, Kim Taehyung. And it’s a lot coming from me, who is practically blind when it comes to looking at paintings. I have zero knowledge about art but I know for sure, yours are gonna blow some minds. There’s people out there who studied arts, they will look at yours and be amazed by them.” You said.

“And you will always have good arts, they’re not just decent. You always said when the inspiration comes, it comes. Don’t pressure yourself,” you whispered as if it’s the only secret between you and him. And you’re selfish, not wanting to share the moment with the rest of the crowds.

Taehyung didn’t know how a heart could break until that night he received a call from your mother.

“Taehyung, she fell. Again.” 

The static noise filled his ears as he ran to the jetty. It was midnight and there’s no ferry to take him to you.

Stupid, stupid girl!

He cried while banging his chest. He could’ve prevented you from going. You told him you wanted to participate in a tournament. It was not even a month after you recovered. Teahyung did think you were so stubborn to go because apparently it was for a scholarship. You were hellbent on going because you knew, the moment Taehyung got accepted to art school, you will be left alone. 

You wanted to be in the city with him. You were so sure Taehyung would get accepted and the only way to be with him is to get the sports scholarship and join him in the city.

Taehyung was unsure at first. You just got better. He was scared that one slip could jeopardize your whole dream. Again, he hated that he was right.

Your mom was sobbing when she called him. “She can never run again Tae, her muscle was torn and there’s no way we can afford a surgery. She hasn’t woken up yet, she was under a high dose painkiller. I don’t know what to tell her Tae.”

Taehyung wished he could calm your mom but he couldn’t. Not when he was crying too.

You always tell him the same dream of yours. Joining the national team, go to the Olympics. Becoming the fastest runner of the country. Run until you can never feel your legs anymore. With him always telling you he’d be on the finish line. Cheering you on and on. And now the dreams will stay as dreams.

He couldn’t control his anger and thinking about your pain, he collapses on the ground. Letting the tears touch the ground. It wasn’t until he was collected enough to ride the earliest ferry to town. To come to you.

Taehyung stays by your side nights and days. Helping your mom as you don't have any male figure in your life. His parents understand it and he is thankful for that. They know how much you meant to him and they were so proud to see their son has been such a reliable shoulder especially in this trivial time for your family.

He was the one who meets up with the doctor with your mom. Discussing the recovery plan, and just being there to be your pillar. You were so quiet on the first day he arrived. The dark circles under your eyes and the hollow stare is tearing his heart apart. 

Not saying much he helped feed you, and carried you to the bathroom. You were still quiet, though Taehyung tried to engage you in small talks. He makes silly jokes, the repeated jokes you always laughed at only to be received an empty response from you now. 

“Tae, I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren't here. Thank you so much, son.” Your mom cries to him. Taehyung was so heartbroken to see your mom keep crying as he himself couldn’t do much to ease the pain. 

“She’ll get better, she is strong.” He said. It has become a mantra every time Taehyung sat alone, thinking about you.

One day, when the doctor allowed you to go home, you reached for him. Mumbling, “Taetae, will I be okay?” your voice was strained, rough and broken. Eyes still staring into the void but your hands held onto him so tight. Like you’re so afraid if he lets go.

“Yes, you will. You’re a strong girl, you’re my strong girl,” Taehyung replied without hesitation, kissing your forehead in hopes of banishing the negative thoughts from swallowing your mind. 

“But I can’t run anymore. What’s the point? I am no longer a runner.” 

“Maybe there’s another opportunity for you. Maybe we can try other things, I’ll help you,”

You scoffed, he sounded silly and unrealistic. “I am nothing without running. It’s my only purpose, Kim Taehyung.” 

He winced at his full name used by you. “I get it but you shouldn’t lose all hope. There are other possibilities for you out there, we just have to push harder to look for them. I believe in you.” Taehyung pleads.

“You don’t get it. All my life, one thing I am sure about is the track. I beat the time every time I’m on the track and now I am defeated with a broken leg and a stupid brain. Forget academics, you and I, we both know how terrible I am at learning. I’m not you! You’re a prodigy in everything. You have people who want to buy your art. I only have the track to stay valid so no, no one gets it. Not even you!” you were seething through your teeth. 

All of the pent up anger and frustration were let out to the one person you cared about. It’s too late to regret, now that his face shows nothing but hurt.

Taehyung feels like being punched in his gut with your words. How could you, when he himself couldn’t sleep a wink from the day he heard about your injury. When worried about you every time you were at a tournament. When he can barely sit still watching you running on the track.

He couldn’t say anything after that. He knows whatever comes out from his mouth will only make it worse. You were devastated, he got to understand that. You need time and space, and you will be okay again. 

Ever since you arrived home, you refused to meet anyone. Not even Taehyung. You were angry and most of all you were just sad. You wanted to be mad at something, something to blame but you couldn’t find it. 

Maybe it was yourself, maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, maybe if you waited a little longer. 

Taehyung did not give up. You were pushing him away and he didn’t move a flinch. He realizes he is being a pushover but you need someone. You were stubborn, through and through. You don’t have to come out of your room to talk to him nor him entering your room like he always does, but you know he’s around, he is home. 

He even followed you and your mom to your routine physiotherapy. But you ignore him. A part of you feels selfish and guilty for treating him this way. Another part is, you think you’re dragging him down on this stupid island. You tried to distance yourself from him, but Taehyung didn’t care. He stays stuck next to you. 

Even though you went to school all by yourself, Taehyung always follows behind you quietly. You didn’t talk to anyone and yet he still comes to your locker to help you carry your book. 

You forgot about his art submission, until one day he came up to your room. Knocking softly. He didn’t speak but who else would be in your house other than your mom. You opened up to see him holding a big white canvas under his arm.

He turns it to you, showing you a painting of a girl in her yellow and red jersey. The girl is running in a field of dandelions.   

“I want to submit this but I need you to see it first. You are my muse, you are my girl. It kills me to see you in this state and I want nothing but the very best of you. I used to cheer for you on the finish line but this time let me run by your side. Let me help you. If I get accepted, I will make a lot of money and I will make the best life for you, so you can stop worrying so much. We’ll learn together, just let me in.”

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Under the Table

A/N - Day 3 of Tickletober! Here is Prank, with Aizawa and Yamada. I hope you all enjoy.

Word Count: 1,264

       Pranking your grouchy husband never ends well. This was the realization Yamada had made the second he had heard Aizawa yell at him from across the apartment. By the tone of his voice, it did not seem that Aizawa appreciated Yamada replacing all his outfits with vibrant colored jumpsuits. Of course, Aizawa’s actual attire was hidden in a bin under their bed, but this wasn't known at the time, nor was it the point. The point was that Yamada was screwed. 

      Yamada needed to hide; fast. Leaving their apartment was a bad idea, the students would see him. Aizawa was too fast to just run from, he'd be caught in seconds. He needed to hide. Of course, he knew that hiding was just prolonging the inevitable, however it was certainly the safest option. Perhaps Aizawa would tire himself out before finding him. A foolish thought, really, but that's all Yamada could rely on at this very moment. 

      With Aizawa in their bedroom and Yamada in the kitchen, there was a limited number of options for him. Best case scenario would have been Eri’s room as hiding under a mountain of plush toys would be a piece of cake. However, Aizawa was bound to see him running through the living room with their bedroom door leading straight into the main living space. This also removes the possibility of hiding in one of the bathrooms. The kitchen pantry was a good option, but predictable. Under the table, however, was the next best thing. 

       Slipping under the tablecloth as swiftly and silently as he could, Yamada tucked himself against the wall on the far side of the small table, avoiding the three wooden chairs. Hugging his legs, Yamada rested his chin on his knee and stared at the warm colored tablecloth. It was time to wait and listen. 

        Aizawa could be silent when stalking villains or, in this case, hunting down his husband. Typically, when Yamada pranked Aizawa, it was when the underground hero had a deadline he had to meet. Today, he had nothing except for his eventual nighttime patrol, which wasn't for another few hours. Alas, instead of just grumbling his displeasure, he was allowed to have some fun with it today. 

         Heart threatening to pound through his ribs, Yamada covered his mouth with one hand, attempting to steady his breathing by only breathing through his nose. A thud from the other room caused his body to recoil; the couch had been lifted and dropped carelessly. Biting his lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping, Yamada could tell that Aizawa was in a playful mood. Normally, Aizawa would silently roam around the apartment like a cougar stalking his prey, but not today. His husband was toying with him, allowing this game of cat and mouse to drag on for longer than normal. 

        From there, Yamada listened to his husband's soft footsteps as he searched around the living room. Next, the sound of a door creaking open told Yamada that Aizawa was now in Eri’s room. The young girl was with Mirio that afternoon, the two of them went off to see a stage production of some kind. Yamada didn't quite remember what they were seeing, but Eri’s enthusiasm for it had definitely been a highlight of his week. With Eri gone, Aizawa had to actually look around her room, instead of just asking whether or not Yamada was in there. Eri was a wildcard in their relationship, her loyalty being a coin flip on who she would side with any given day for something like this. Though she was never the best liar. Even if she were home and she had been siding with Yamada, Aizawa could see right through her poker face. Granted, her poker face looked a lot more like a lopsided grin and delightful bubbly giggles, so a person didn't have to be a trained pro hero to tell if she was lying or not. At least she was adorable. 

       Not too long after he entered, Aizawa slammed the door shut. The hairs on the back of Yamada’s neck rose as an invisible claw of anticipation scratched down his spine. He knew where his husband was going next, and he knew this game was about to be over. 

        Aizawa padded softly into the kitchen and stood in the doorway for a minute. Yamada may not have been able to physically see him, but he could certainly imagine what his husband was doing: eyes shut, and breath held, all focus on his sense of hearing. The two men let out a breath at the same time, Yamada wanting to be as in sync as possible so Aizawa couldn't hear him. 

       Walking over to the pantry, Aizawa swung the door open and stared into the small room. Letting out a huff, Aizawa stepped into the pantry and grabbed a box, some sort of snack from what Yamada could hear by the contents within. He listened as Aizawa closed the door and began to walk toward the table, with his blood freezing in his veins the second his husband pulled back one of the chairs, letting it squeal across the tile floor. Sitting down with a grunt and the sound of his back popping, Aizawa began to eat the dry cereal by the fist full. 

       “Want some?” Aizawa said with his mouth full, reaching his hand beneath the table with a handful of Cheerios. He chuckled to himself when he felt Yamada's soft fingers gingerly take the offered food. “Want me to wreck your shit here or in the bedroom?”

      “Here's fine,” Yamada swallowed the last piece. “Eri isn't gonna be home for a while.”

      “Sounds good. You done eating?” 

      “Yeah.”

       “Good,” Aizawa replied, then quickly stood up and pushed the table aside, revealing his hiding husband. Smirking down at the blond man, Aizawa lovingly looked him over, admiring how his long hair framed his face and how his glasses always fell down to the top of his nose when he was seated. 

       “Like what you see?” Yamada waggled his eyebrows as he flashed Aizawa a warm smile. 

       “Oh, yes I do,” Aizawa said before pouncing. 

        Yamada didn't struggle whatsoever when his husband pinned him to the floor, both wrists held in one strong hand above his head. Situating himself on Yamada's hips so they were both comfortable, Aizawa’s irises reddened like embers alighting from coals. His raven black hair lifted, raised as if gravity had ceased to exist. Quirk fully activated, Aizawa attacked. 

       Laugh squeaky and of a higher pitch, Yamada threw his head back as his husband clawed into one armpit, then the other, switching it up randomly to get the best results. Enjoying this technique for a while, Aizawa decided to switch it up and bring his hand down to lift Yamada's shirt, rolling the fabric up to the middle of his chest. 

       “Shouta,” Yamada warned, though the undertone of his voice was all but serious. 

       “What's wrong ‘Zashi?” Aizawa teased, his voice low and gravely. 

        Before Yamada could answer, Aizawa pressed his face into his husband's belly and nuzzled the soft skin with his scruff. Cackling and squealing, Yamada thrashed beneath his husband, thankful that while Aizawa couldn't exactly see anything, his eyes were still open enough that his quirk was still working. Without having to be concerned about his quirk accidentally activating and breaking things in their apartment, Yamada was able to freely laugh and be playful with his husband. And they had all the time in the world, it felt like, so why not just enjoy their time together?

[cat-loves-music]

Hi Cat! I was wondering if I could request Mattheo Riddle x fem reader who gets migraines? And it would be her skipping class over getting a really bad one which is unusual and so he goes to check on her and he cuddles her, gives her head massages (and she has curly hair or it’s just not described as like easy to comb through so more of a scalp massage ig lol) and whatever else you want to add. Also they call each other like mi amor and cute stuff like that. If you don’t want to write this it’s totally fine! I love your work and hope you have a great day or night <3

Migraines

Omg hi! So sorry this took so long. Finding motivation is a pain in the ass. 😅

I also am not really familiar with migraines, so I hope I do this justice. Anyways I hope you like it!

Warnings: migraines, fluff, House not specified, fem!reader, not proofread!, somewhat shitty writing, and if there are more plz let me know!

The sound of a switch and the sudden blinding light of my dorm room awakes me from my peaceful slumber.

"Come on, Y/n! You need to get up, you'll be late," my dormmate says before leaving.

I groan as I sit up in bed, my head throbbing with pain and the contents of my stomach swish around uncomfortably inside the organ. The lights reflecting off of the vibrant colors of the dorm room make my head spin so I begrudgingly stand up to turn the light back off.

"Not today," I whisper to myself as I chase my relief in the comfort of my own bed.

♡♡♡

Mattheo's POV

"Hey Malfoy, have you seen Y/n today?" I asked him as we sat down in the Great Hall for lunch.

"Nah, mate. I would have thought you would have since you're the one dating her," he answers, shrugging.

I sigh as more of my friends come to the table.

"Have any of you guys seen Y/n by any chance?" I asked them.

"I didn't see her in class," Enzo replied, "she's almost never even late much less not show up."

"Yeah she wasn't in Defense or Charms," Pansy said, worry lacing her voice.

I get up from the table, my heart feeling like it's being squeezed. Something is wrong, I know it.

"I'll see you all later, I'm gonna go find her," I stated.

We bid our goodbyes before I head to her dorm. I arrive there and I knock on the door.

"Go away!" I hear her groan.

Twisting open the door knob, the lights are completely off and the curtains are drawn closed. Darkness envelopes the room, but I can still see Y/n's form buried underneath the covers.

"Mi amor," I whisper, "what's wrong?"

"I have a migraine," she speaks, her words slightly slurred.

I frown, "It must be a bad one because you never miss class, my love."

"Please stop yelling," she whines, "it hurts."

I walk over to beside her bed, take my shoes off and climb in next to her. Snaking my arms around her, I hold her close and she snuggles into my chest.

"Can I get a head massage please?" She requests, looking up at me with her tear stained cheeks.

"Of course, princess," I said, my heart squeezing once more.

I hate that she's in pain, sometimes I wish I could take it away from her so she'll never have to feel it again. I'd bear the burden so she doesn't have to, but unfortunately I can't so the next best thing would be helping her with a massage. My hands find their way to her head as I work my fingers into her temples and scalp. Y/n sighs in contentment as I do so.

"Thank you, love," she says, "that feels so much better."

I provide a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm glad."

For the rest of the day, we stay in bed with our bodies entwined in each other's arms.

Hi! I hope you liked it, but it’s been a hot minute since I've written an imagine so I'm sorry if it sucks. I tried my best to make it decent since I don't personally get migraines, but if you want me to add something, let me know!

@ravenclawprincess33

[writesick-lover]

Just One Date part 3!

>part 2 >>part 1

a/n: AAAND WE'RE BACK!!! I can't believe it, I am so sorry it took so long, but I had to figure out which way to take this story... And I am afraid this can and might turn out into the whole series!!! You guys seem to love it and I am forever grateful for the support! Anyways, here's part 3 xoxo

warning: !spoilers if you haven't read the first and second part!, mentions of self-hate, harm, wounds

tags: @peachydarlingz

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

➷ ➷ ➷ ➷

Finnick's panicked breaths echoed across the hall as he kept running around back and forth, his eyes darting around every corner like a madman. You couldn't just disappear, not under his watch, not when he finally felt like he was living again. The world turned so quiet suddenly, Finnick unable to hear the distant party as his blood rushed through his body, raging in his ears. The dreadful sound he knew so well from the arena, adrenaline rushing in, his senses hyperfixating on every sound, every move he could possibly spot that could lead to you.

A loud laughter came from the end of the hall, causing Finnick to straighten up, his charming smile on again as a group of women dressed in the most vibrant colors walked by. One’s gaze froze on Finnick, her head turned towards him. He winked, nodding with a grin. The girl giggled, catching up with her friends. As they cut the corner, he slumped down again, rubbing his eyes. He sighed.

Where were you? He will never find you here and he couldn’t help the weight falling on his shoulders, called guilt. You could have been long gone. Someone could have had you dragged away, drugged beyond any conciousness, while he was trying to have the time of his life. All of this just so they could take advantage of you because of him-

Finnick paused.

He will not find you here, but he knew where he will find some answers.

And suddenly he knew exactly which way to go, fear and desperation replaced by the anger, the boiling blood taking over his sight. When he entered the gardens the white roses seemed red like the blood that dripped from Snow's hands. He just wished it wasn't yours.

"Snow!" He yelled out as he neared a small silouette in the dark, the fragile hair coloured white like angel's wings, like the fresh snow, yet to be stained again and again by his horrendous sins.

President Snow turned around, a bright smile showing his white and prefect teeth, just as the rest of him. But Finnick knew better. His teeth were slowly rotting just like everything inside of him.

Finnick stopped infront of the president, huffs of hot air escaping in clouds from his flaring nostrils. "Where?" He began, staring into Snow's blue eyes, darkened by mischief.

"Where is what, my dear boy?" Snow retorted with a question, lifting both eyebrows in amusement. "Where are they?" Finnick huffed, his patience wearing thin. He wanted to kill him there and then, yet he knew he couldn't. He wasn't even sure what he was doing there. His own suicide. He was scared, sweating and only wanting to run for his life to the nearby coast before his throat could be sliced.

And yet he couldn't. Because he had won once in the face of deatn. Because the vision of what might be done to you will haunt him for the rest of his days. And he would never forgive himself.

Snow chuckled, seeing the state Finnick was in. He never saw him in this light and he couldn't help but feel entertained by the sudden rage in such a broken body he thought was left to wither. "You know Finnick," Snow began, walking past the young man and heading back to the mansion. Finnick knew it was his que to follow him, knowing there was no choice. He just hoped there was enough time.

"For a while you fooled me. I thought your rather sudden relationship was... fake," the president smirked, giving Finnick a quick glance before focusing his gaze on the road ahead again. "At first I did not understand why someone like you would pick someone like them," Snow hummed. "I thought it was madness. You had become so stupid, you decided to fake your relationship with someone so violent just to be like Peeta with Katniss. Make them desirable," Finnick's breath hitched in surprise but he wouldn't let it show. "When in fact, their path leads far away from happiness." President Snow chuckled to himself once again. "But I suppose you're smarter than I thought you to be, despite our long history and my deepest belief in you," he finally stopped by the entrance back to the mansion. The yellow light fell on his white sick face, shadows recreating his face to that of a demon, trying to show at least half of what this man was.

"Maybe you picked them for protection. Maybe to kill all the victors. Or maybe they will kill you in your sleep one day. One day, when they realize what you dragged them into." Snow smiled brightly, Finnick trying to find sense in his puzzles.

"They are in their chambers. I did them a favor and send them with a friend. That way, they don't have to be alone. And maybe they might find something common to talk about later." The demon in front of Finnick winked, his words sinking into Finnick's skin until he understood their meaning too well. His mind went blank.

After that he was on his way. He flew up the stairs, rushing down the bright colorful corridors until he found the right door, calling out to him. His hand was on the doorknob when it turned, opening the door. Back at him was staring an unfamiliar face, makeup smudged all over their face due to heavy crying. Whimpers escaped their mouth as they clutched to their clothes, bruises and cuts already visible on their arms and legs.

The short man looked up at Finnick with tears glistening in his eyes, only to be met with cold yet confused look of the victor. Finnick's eyes flickered to the room, trying to find the one he actually came looking for. He shoved the man aside, causing him to fall and cry out again, but he didn't care. "Crazy," he heared the man whisper. "They are all crazy monsters,"

Finnick rushed in. He found you on the bed, your once beautiful dress all torn apart with only pieces hanging on to their dear life, still keeping you at least half decent. You hugged your knees, your right hand squeezing the dagger with your knuckles turning white.

Your eyes brightened upon falling on his face, filling with tears held for so long. You got up only to get hit by Finnick's scent, your cheek crashing onto his chest, his warm safe arms wrapping around you. The dagger clanged on the wooden floor.

"I didn't mean to- I- I-" you sobbed, your eyes wide from the shock as you realised what truly happened. "I was just pro- protecting my-myself" you tried to catch your breath, Finnick staring down at you as you gazed to the distance. "I- I- am not a monster! I swear, mom!" You exclaimed, squeezing him tight.

"Y/n" Finnick spoke up, finally making you look up at him. Your eyes were shaking, disoriented. His hands slid from your waist to your cheeks, hugging them just as tight. "It's me, Y/n," he stared into your eyes, trying to find you. He sat you down. "Breathe," he whispered, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face.

You took a few deep breaths, finally grounding yourself. "Are you hurt?" He asked but you did not answer. "What happened? Did he do anything to you?" Finnick slowly started checking  up on you without your answers. Your eyes avoided his gaze in embarrassment as you frowned. "You met him by the door. You saw how he looked." You gulped, squinting your eyes for a while before opening them. "And?" Finnick raised an eyebrow, not understanding your point. "How are you asking me if I'm okay, when I obviously hurt him?!" Your head fell to your hands as you yelled out in frustration, palms covering your ears. You just wanted to shut the world out. It was happening all over again. You were back in the arena, trying to survive while now the tributes are doing worse to you then just killing you. You are not worth even the end of your suffering. You will sin again and again, your fate sealed ever since you won your own games. You're the victor. You became part of the cycle. You won your one-way ticket to hell.

Finnick sighed, his hands shaking a little. His heart ached from the state he saw you in. Somewhere deep down, he knew this was exactly how he looked all those years ago. He was all alone then.

"Y/n," Finnick's voice seemed distant with your palms over your ears, but it was there. He bent down, forcing himself into your field of view. "I have been there," he spoke, his voice calm almost shaking a little. "I blamed myself day and night, first for not doing anything and then for doing something to those, who chose to hurt me willingly over and over again."

"I felt like I was nothing. Worse than nothing. I hated myself, I hated my life, I hated my mother for giving birth to me because if she hadn't, I wouldn't have to be here in the first place."

Finnick closed his mouth, the damning silence falling on the both of you, his words echoing in the room like a curse.

You looked up, tears in your eyes again. You were scared. Beyond scared. But when you looked into Finnick's eyes, despite the salty tears watering them, they were calm just like the ocean after a storm. When everything finally quiets down.

"Do not blame yourself for picking up the rest of human dignity you saved for yourself and standing up. Do not blame yourself for what you have done to protect your life, hoping it would give you what you were asking for. Do not blame yourself for winning, because you will have to live with it whether you like it or not. Blame those who put you into that position." He talked slowly, every word rolling down his tongue like a prayer he told himself once. Maybe he still did to this day. You nodded, swallowing the rest of the tears down to your core. He was right. The blame had to be shifted because that was exactly what this cycle was feeding on. Victors haunted by the blame, by the guilt, by the grief. The hurt, hurting others. You wrapped your arms around him.

"Please do not leave me again."

. . . . .

"Did you know Katniss and Peeta also faked their relationship?" Finnick said, ending the silence in which you were lying on the bed, your head on his chest as the hand around your shoulders brushed your hair. "What?" You mumbled. "Snow told me. He said he thought I just jumped on the opportunity to win me some love and peace with another star-struck lovers story." Your chests rose in sync. You looked up at him. "Snow told you?" You're eyes widened.

"We..." Finnick fell quiet for a while. A strand of your hair got tangled in his fingers.

"We have a history, me and him. One day I will tell you. I'm sorry." He whispered the apology, his body shaking a little. "What are you sorry for?" You asked, your gaze fixed on something in front of you as if looking miles away. "For not being ready. For dragging you into this. I never should have fallen for this trap. Never should have believed it for a second." He shook his head, burying his face in your hair, and placing a kiss into it. "I will never ever leave you again."

"I'm sorry too." You spoke. "I cause trouble wherever I go. I deceive. But one day I will tell you. I have a history as well." You spoke, earning a tight smile from Finnick. He let his mind wonder to the man he found by your door, when he first rushed in. He was cut deeply, way worse than you. But that didn't mean anything. You were protecting yourself and that was enough for him. But the questions, especially one you haven't answered. What happened? He had to shut them out. At least for now.

"I have to talk to them one day," Finnick chuckled. "Katniss and Peeta. Ask them, how they did it."

"You're not mad at them?"

"A bit? Yes. They fooled us all while signing their death wish. But they are the same as me and you. Just victors, nothing else. Bunch of kids, thrown to arena, doing all it takes to win." "Yes, I know that feeling." You chuckled to yourself.  Finnick hummed, his thoughts taking him back to Snow. He was so angry when Snow told him about Katniss and Peeta. He was angry at them that he became a fool, just like the rest of the Capitol. He also remembered the smile playing on the president's face. Maybe that's what Snow wanted the whole time. He wanted to make him mad at other victors. First by picking him as one of his servants. Now by pouring honey into Finnick's ears. Hiding behind the shadows of his lies.

And what about you? Could you really kill him in his sleep one day, or was it just one of Snow's deceits. The deceitful victor. Finnick never saw your games. He just heard the rumours he chose to ignore, due to his own encounters with you. They were different than the stories knitted around you. And who was he to judge your way of surviving when it was your fight and not his?

But lately there was also this other thing.

He cared for you.

He cared for you, way more than he realised. It was weakness, now that Snow knew. But it was also strength, now that he had you with him again. One day, he will tell you how he feels. Maybe you will feel it too. For now he just had to try for a world, where feelings could exist in the first place.

➷ ➷ ➷

Let me know how you liked it with like, comment and repost!

Thank you for all the support and let me know if we should continue this story!!!

I just got some inspiration for another part :D

[xxmaxwellxx]

Hello! Me again! I’ve finished writing another story. Again, any constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated! I’m also thinking of making another part to both the stalker story and this one. If anyone is interested in something like that please comment, dm me or send a request! As always sorry for any errors, I’m slightly dyslexic and if I missed anything in the warnings please tell me so I can fix it! (Also if anyone has any requests please don’t hesitate to send one in! I’m trying to grow my account and be better at writing so requests are very helpful!)

Tw: merman, general Yandere behavior (body horror? No gore just a very unique merman)

Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns!)

The seagulls screeching above are oddly comforting. Over my time as a researcher, I've learned that if the seagulls aren’t flying overhead, a storm is near. And luckily for me, the seagulls are in the sky and very vocal. I grab a shrimp from my dads cooler and throw it up towards the birds, watching one swoop down and grab it before joining the others. I always admired how intelligent they were, following boats in the hopes of getting food. I reach back into the cooler for another shrimp before my dad yells at me, “Hey!” I whip around at his voice, “Don't waste all our bait on some gulls! If you keep feeding them, they're going to swoop down and eat all our shrimp!” I giggle at his words. He's always lectured me about feeding the birds. The boat slows to a stop and my dad leaves the wheelhouse and lowers the anchor as I take my sweater off and put my flippers on. I wore my favorite sweater over my wetsuit, the wind out at sea surprisingly cold.

My dad sets up his fishing rod at the edge of the boat and I go to the other side to avoid his fishing line. He always fishes when I go diving, not to eat but to keep himself entertained while I'm gone. He never keeps the fish, just writing down the type of fish, how big and how old he thinks it is before throwing it back. He has multiple notebooks he keeps on his boat from years back when mom would go diving. She was always my role model, she was the reason I got my degree in marine biology and my scuba permit. She was the reason behind gaining a passion for fish, the reason my room was filled to the brim with marine animal stuffed animals. She had to stop diving, when I was young she got sick, and it was too dangerous for her, but that's why I'm here. I'm going to continue her studies for her, so she can still see the ocean she loved so much from her bed.

Putting my goggles and mouthpiece on, I excitedly roll off the deck and into the water. Right below me is a magnificent coral reef filled to the brim with color. Hustling and bustling with fish of all colors of the rainbow. Clown fish in the anemones, iridescent parrot fish, yellow butterfly fish, stripped Angelfish, a few yellow finned Damselfish, Surgeonfish and small Goby all swimming in and out, over and under the coral. I take out my camera and snap a few photos, not just for mom, but also for the other researchers back at the lab. They sent me out with a few videography robots to study the effects global warming has had on the reefs, but I don't think they'd mind if I snuck a few to my mom. I drift further and further away from my dads boat, distracted by taking photos.

A few photos of the vibrant parrot fish, a few of clown fish seeking residence in sea anemones, a few of the small goby fish and a lot of the vibrant coral. I keep wandering further, always keeping the boat in view when something catches my eye. A hole. A large hole. No, not a hole, a sea cave. I peer inside and see dots of color. I wouldn't hurt to venture in, would it? For science, I tell myself, for research and the betterment of knowledge, I tell myself, but I know I'm just too curious for my own good. Upon my entrance I see various seaweed, algae and sea sponge species. The further I go, the less light. The less light, the more things produce their own. I see a few small fish and algae glow but something big catches my eye, something really big, too big, and oh so colorful. Swirls of orange and blue and too humanoid to be a fish, but too fish to be human. It has what looks like hair, long and glowing blue on one side and orange on the other, with many streaks of the opposite color mixed in. a long tail with swirls of the same colors, and it goes up it's body onto what looks like a torso and arms. It has arms? Why would a fish have arms? Cave dweller or not, fish are not supposed to have arms.

I quickly pull out my camera, I have to document this. What I didn't account for was the automated flash, it has a light sensor and if it's too dark, the flash turns on. Suddenly the cave is lit up with light from my camera. I panic and fiddle with my camera, trying desperately to turn off the automated flash, but my efforts are in vain. A clawed hand grabs the lens, and I turn my attention to the creature in front of me. A wave of fear washes over me as I look up to a humanoid face, my heart rate picks up as I notice the scowl he wears. I start to hyperventilate as he leans in closer and reaches a hand out towards my face. A clawed hand coming towards my face. He's going to hurt me, isn't he? My fight or flight kicks in and in my panic I choose fight.

I quickly raise my legs and kick him in the stomach, making him curl into himself and let go of my camera and propelling me away from him. While he's distracted, I grab my falling camera and rush out of the cave and towards the boat. I didn't notice how late it's gotten, the sun setting over the horizon as I pull my self out of the water and onto the ledge. I quickly dislodge my mouthpiece and throw my goggles further onto the boat, trying to regulate my breathing once again. What was that? Human? Fish? Some kind of sick hybrid? Should I tell dad? Tell the team? Did I even get a clear picture of that thing? If news gets out, what will the press say? What will the scientists do? If it has the conscience of a human, it will be cruel to report on it. What if someone hurts them? Kills them? What do I even do?

My thoughts are broken by my dads voice, “Everything alright?” he always asks that after I come up, but he sounds worried this time. “Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine.” I'm lying through my teeth, I know it, and I'm pretty sure he knows with the look he gives me “Well, if you're sure. I made dinner while you were gone. It's on the table whenever you're ready.” he tips his hat and walks away, presumably to go eat the aforementioned dinner. I sigh and take off my oxygen tank, hanging it with the others before going below deck to take a shower.

My dad snores in his bed as I eat the dinner he made. Vegetable dumplings with a side of soy sauce and ramen. Simple, easy to make and oh so good. He always made the best food. I'm scrolling through my camera roll as I eat, checking if my team can use any of the photos I took when it pops up. I almost drop my dumpling when I see it. The creature on my camera roll, slightly blurry but still visible with glowing eyes. I want to throw up. He's objectively beautiful, but he's earth shaking. Merfolk aren't real, they're evolutionary impossible, and yet here he is. I suddenly don't have an appetite anymore, it's too much to handle. I put my food in the fridge and lay in my bed. What am I going to tell my team? What am I going to tell dad? That despite every odd on the planet, merfolk are real, and I had an encounter with one? They're going to think I'm crazy, right? What about the picture? Would that really be enough proof for them? Would they accuse me of editing the picture? What possible excuse could I come up with to explain it? If they do believe me, I don't want them to hurt him. Would it just be best to delete it? Export the photo off the camera and keep it for myself? These thoughts keep me up well past my bedtime.

Something is off. I feel like I'm being watched. I turn my gaze from the ceiling to the glass floor. It's him. The thing from the cave. It smiles, reveling razor sharp teeth. What have I gotten myself into?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They're mine. It was set in stone when we met.

When I heard of the cave shells, I knew I had to check it out. Supposedly there were shells that glow in the dark and I just had to get my hands on one. Avoiding the moray and brushing aside small lantern fish, I make my way deep into the cave. I've been there for a solid hour, going from tunnel searching the sand. I was getting frustrated. Where are those shells?! A flash catches my attention. Whipping around, I see a human. They look exactly like the rumors. Humans are real? And what's that box in their hand? What was that light? Was it a mating signal? Do they like me? I swim over to investigate the box, laying my hand on it, the thought crosses my mind. This was probably a mating gift! Immediately after I realize what it is, they kick me and swim off with the box. Humans must be a species that want to be chased before they mate!

I quickly swim after them when they go up above the water onto a strange piece of metal. That must be their home! My suspicions are proven correct when I see them sitting in a strange object and eating. Merfolk only eat in their homes, so it must be the same for humans. They crawl onto something squishy and cover themselves with something.

I dare to get closer to them, my face bonks against something clear, this must be the glass the other merfolk were talking about. I place my hands upon the glass, watching my mate. Eventually they look down at me, my friend Erin told me humans like when you smile, that smiling was a show of friendliness to humans.

Rest assured, little human, the next time you're in water you will be mine. Our mandarin babies will be so cute!~

(Merman is based off a mandarin fish, look them up! Very unique fish!)

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #85

*deposits the cleaned skull of a deer* As tribute, darling.

F

Danny doesn't erase the memories of his parents after the Reality Trip episode. Maddie and Jack tell Danny they love him and try to help via helping him figure out what the limits of his powers are and what he needs to be a healthy half ghost, but G.I.W. find out, catch Danny and tada, vivisection on our favorite Ghoat Boy. A rag-tag rescue mission ensues, consisting of some of Danny's "rogue's" and Valerie, who was brought into the fold earlier. A big battle in the Main facility happens that the group barely manages to get Danny out and escape to Fentonworks. Jack and Maddie, knowing there was nowhere way, set the portal to blow and, with heartfelt platitudes and tight holds, send the children through to save them and sacrifice themselves to keep the Agents from capturing Danny once more. Tucker, driving the Spector Speeder, tries to keep the group calm while Sam, Valerie, and Jazz work to patch up Danny.

In trying to stop Danny from fully dying, Jazz makes a wish, completely forgetting about Desiree's powers.

"I wish there was a world where you could be safe, little brother." Jazz whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks and pressing a clean wad of gauze onto Danny's bleeding chest as Sam works diligently to sew him back together.

The Speeder rumbles, and Sam barely has time to look up, horrified, at Jazz before Desiree's silky smooth voice whispers across their ears. "So you have wished it, so shall it be..." Green mist swirls around Danny's chest before exploding outward, momentarily blinding the teens.

Tucker barely has time to stop the Speeder from smashing face-first into a shiny metal wall, sending the occupants tumbling on the floorboards of the cabin. "Fuck, Jazz, you can't say the W-Word! It's taboo for a reason!" He starts to reverse the Speeder when the door was ripped from its hinges.

Valerie's suit slipped over her body as a wrist blaster was pointed towards their assailant. Her arm dropped slightly, and her shoulders relaxed. "Holy shit, what did you wish for, Jazz?" She asks, staring at the burning red gaze of Superman, who had tossed aside the door like it weighed nothing.

"Did we hope realities?!" Sam yells out, quickly jumping to her own feet while pulling out her Laser Lipstick and popping the cap off in preparation. "Cause that looks real to me!"

Tucker is the one to step forward, eyes trailing over the statuesque form of the Comicbook Hero. "Pinch me, cause this can't be real." He holds his arm out to Sam, who immediately digs her pointer and thumb nail into his sweaty skin. "Ow! Fuck, Sam." He watches as the red fades from Superman's eyes and he settles down onto the ground quietly. "Nope, comics are real cause he's not a ghost and he was fucking flying."

"How did you get up here?" Superman's voice is smooth, strong, with a hint of a Midwestern twang, and looking closer at the Boy Scout shows he was a mix of all of the live action actors that had played him on the Silver Screen. His suit is just like the comics, vibrant and brightly colored with the stylized symbol for the Hoise of El emblazoned proudly on his broad chest.

"Jazz, you wished us into the fucking Detective Comiscs world. I... I think we're in the Watchtower, the one that orbits Earth..." Tucker's legs give out as he continues to stare at the World's Strongest Man. "We're not in Illinois anymore..."

And then we get further in where Danny heals and then looses his shit about his parents sacrifice and then the rest of the JL try to adopt these spitfire kids. Could throw them to the Titans, or to the Young Justice group, anything really.

Really, I just wanted to get this one out of my head.

[ya-zz]

Merry Christmas

This was a thank you to @yore-donatsu for taking time out of her schedule to sketch some Ramattra stuff for me which I still adore and smile at each time I open my phone or log into my pc 😭

Thank you again, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas!

~~~

Ramattra x reader (gen)

Word count: 4715

The sun was beginning to set over the village in Nepal, and the sky’s ablaze with color; warm oranges and reds peek over the mountains as the night fades in. The air is crisp and cold, and the stars are beginning to twinkle in the dark abyss that’s approaching quickly. It’s a peaceful and serene night without many disturbances. The stars shine brightly in the sky, and the moon casts its silvery light over the village. 

The winter evenings in the Nepal village are a time for rest and relaxation whilst the monks in the monastery gather together to prepare a small event as they talk about their day, tell stories, and laugh together. The evenings are a time to forget about the stresses of life and to simply enjoy the company of loved ones.

Whilst the village below was bustling with life, the monastery just as vibrant and while many of them did not celebrate the idea of Christmas, they were happy to indulge those who were. Decorations were drawn up, holly and tinsel lining the walls and in the main entrance way stood tall a tree littered with baubles and ornaments that were gifted from the villagers. 

Candles were lit, illuminating every dark area inside, somehow never going out despite the wintry breezes that pass by. The stone floor was icy, human feet would freeze should they walk on it. The omnics could feel the cold, but it wasn’t detrimental to their systems so they didn’t mind, however they would always ensure that any human that visits would wear shoes to protect their feet at this time of year. 

The monastery was warm, certain rooms warmer than others and one of which was your room. With the fire on and the snow falling outside, it looked like a scene out of a movie. Bundled up on the chair beside the fire, you sat there with your mind focussed on your work. There were exactly six days before Christmas Day, six days before the monastery held that small gathering between the monks and of course, you were invited among the group. 

For once, you felt like you belonged. They were always there when you needed support, a shoulder to cry on or even just a friendly chat in the morning or evening. Someone was always there for you.

One omnic more than others. 

Although… you hadn’t seen him for a few days and that worry was growing with each passing day. Ramattra had been out of the monastery, whether he was avoiding the holidays, the monks or you, it was a thought that constantly crossed your mind. 

All you could do was help the monks prepare, lending a hand when they needed it and accepting theirs when you needed it. You were doing what you could to take your mind away from the missing omnic. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, something that reminded you of home; being a child and helping decorate the tree, running around the stores with your parents getting the last minute gifts, accidentally smashing a bauble but the spirits were high that you didn’t get yelled at. 

If only you knew what Ramattra was doing and where he was. It wasn’t like him to wander off without a reason, especially without telling you his plans. Ever since you grew close to the omnic, Ramattra would talk to you almost every day and he’d tell you his schedule should it conflict with yours. 

Looking out of the window, you sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. The clouds were growing thicker, a storm was approaching.

It wasn’t his first Christmas, definitely wasn’t his last, but this year it was different for him. 

He didn’t want to tell you what he was doing, he made sure nobody knew. It was a surprise, and he was making sure that there were no obstacles in the way of his plan. So far, everything was going smoothly. 

As the snow continued to fall, covering the villages of Nepal in a thick blanket that only grew within the coming hours, Ramattra began his return to the monastery. He was two days travel away, but with the constant snowfall, he knew it was going to take longer.

Ramattra had to plan accordingly. His model wasn’t necessarily made for wandering in deep snow, he figured that out the hard way a few years prior. His cooling was verging on freezing, system error coming up critical. He was lucky to have made it back inside before the worst had happened and he shut off. 

By his calculations, he had three hours before his cooling completely freezes, he had to be somewhere warm before those three hours were up and while he had his cowl to keep him warm, the cold still pierced through to his chassis which in turn began to lock up his joints. 

His monk robes clung to him, wet and freezing as he started his walk back, staff in hand to help him move up the cobbled roads. Ramattra passed several humans, each wrapped up warm with coats, hats and scarves, gloves protecting their fragile hands. He looks down at the bag he was carrying, hoping that what he had picked out for you was correct in size, but also something you would wear with pride, something you would love because he got it for you. 

A gift, for you. 

Ramattra had never bought a gift for anyone in his life, but you were someone special, someone who he held close to his circuits. You wandered into his life and he had never once regretted it. Despite some misunderstandings and debates, you are one he doesn’t want to lose. 

He would protect you. Though his disregard and hatred is high for the human species, you were the exception. Ramattra would make sure you were happy, that you were healthy. He would make sure you were safe, no matter the cost. Should he be decommissioned against his will, he would hope and pray to the Iris that you were safe. 

He pauses in thought for a moment, optics looking ahead yet not looking at anything in particular. His system alerts him, cutting his thought short. 

[ WEATHER WARNING. SEVERE SNOW STORM ]

The omnic looks up to the sky, now noticing how dark it had become since he started his travel. His hand twitches around his staff as he looks back down and continues to walk along the road, the snow getting heavier, thicker with every passing minute. 

He was close to the village edge and the moment he decides to walk past those stone pillars, there is no protection from the cold, no shelter until the next village which was under three hours away by foot. 

Ramattra sighs, entering a small inn and paying for a room for the night, the omnic innkeeper escorting Ramattra to his room. It was too risky to go out when a storm was coming. He sits down on the bed and stares out of the window as his processors work to figure out a new plan should the storm last too long. 

He looks down at the bag, servos tracing the metal pad on the back of his hand. For once, the omnic was nervous, worried that he may not make it back to the monastery in time.

Ever so slowly, his plan started falling apart. 

—

Commotion could be heard all throughout the monastery as the monks rushed around to cover up the windows to keep the heat in, but also to protect themselves and everything inside from the harshness of the storm. 

The clanking of feet outside of your door startles you before it fades off, the monks rushing past your room as they keep working. Meanwhile, you stay seated, bundled up warm beside the fire that heated your cheeks. You were too comfortable, too cosy to move in fact. 

Your room was warm despite the open window where thoughts escaped from and where worries left. However, the warm room felt lonely without Ramattra seated in front of you on the floor. Hands craved to be tangled in his cabled hair whilst he meditates before they slip down and tilt his head back so you could smile down at him, reassuring him that you cared and that he was safe with you. 

The fire burns your eyes as you stare into it, cheeks hot as you wonder where Ramattra was. Something wasn’t right but you couldn’t quite place it but as the storm continues, winds howling outside and snow sticking to everything it touches, you could only fear the worse. He was out there. 

You had two options; wait it out and hope that he got home to you safely, or venture out there in hopes to find him… but that came with great risk to your life. You’d have to plan accordingly, know where shelter is, know where he had gone. One plan you could do easily was the travel; there’s inns dotted around the village, many didn’t require payment to stay if you’re sheltering in the main living area, but the second part, finding where Ramattra went, was the tricky part. 

He never said he was leaving. Never mentioned it to you or any of the other monks. One hour he was there and then the next he was nowhere to be seen. One monk pointed out that he had left through the main door, everyone including you, assuming he was going down to the village to visit the library or pick up some parts for his projects that he was tinkering with. 

But then that begs the question; why didn’t he ask you to come with him?

Ramattra would always come to you first and ask if you wanted to join him on a small trip to the village, a walk in the garden, join him in meditation or even just sitting in silence in the small monastery library. You were the first to come to mind and system with him. You were the one whom he wanted to spend time with. You were special to him. 

A human and a ravager - an unlikely and blossoming friendship. 

Turning your gaze back to the window, tears pricking your eyes from staring too long into the fire, you let out a shaky sigh as you watch the snow fall in large clumps. You think about venturing out there to find the missing omnic, but then that means risking your life. The storm had claimed many lives in the past, human and omnic alike. Even those fully prepared don’t make it to their destination without careful and precise planning. 

“Where are you, Ramattra…?” You sigh, holding your mug a little tighter, feeling the slight tingle as it burns your palms. “Please be safe…” 

…

…

Three days had passed and there was still no sign on the missing omnic. Many of the monks were getting concerned, others were still prepping for the event in three days.

You had gathered what you could, layered on several shirts and coats, the thickest pants and socks you could find and the winter boots you were gifted earlier on in the year by another monk. Your hat, scarf and gloves were snug, keeping your fragile hands and ears warm as you ventured out into the icy weather, the storm still strong as it battered your cheeks. 

The backpack was heavy on your back, as you tread carefully down the slippery monastery steps. Everything was telling you to head back, to go back inside where it was warm and safe, where your life wouldn’t be on the line. 

All you were hoping was that Ramattra was safe, that he hadn’t succumbed to the harsh winter storm, buried under several feet of snow. The thought makes you shiver. 

“Please be okay…” 

You repeated the same three words over the last three days; when you woke up to an empty sofa, when you stared at the water in the cup before drinking it, when you showered and spaced out thinking the worst. He was the first thought when you woke up and the last one before you went to bed. 

“Ramattra…” 

Your quiet pleads were silenced by the wind as you stumble outside of the monastery walls and out of the first village after hearing that Ramattra was not here. There was no going back now, there were four hours of walking to go before you’d reach the next village. It would usually be a lot quicker, an hour and half at most but with the snow making the terrain uneven and unsafe, it added more time. 

The snow continued to batter your body as you tread carefully along the edge of what you assumed was the path, following the walls and rope that travelled between the villages for this very purpose. A guide for travellers to follow. 

A guide for you to find Ramattra. 

Meanwhile, he was preparing to leave the second village, bag and staff in hand as he set the timer within his HUD the moment he stepped out of the door and into the harsh cold. His system was on high alert, the temperature below freezing as he started his walk into the white abyss. 

The snow didn’t seem to let up at all, constantly falling and covering his shoulders and hooded head with a thin, sparkly sheet. He needed to get back and soon, this specific road was longer than the previous one and the longer he stayed outside, the riskier it was for the omnic. While the snow continued to fall, it was a miracle it never went any higher up his metal calves. The sun was still warm, slowly melting the top most layers.

His staff sunk deep into the snow, piercing holes that only filled up within minutes and his treadmarks that followed behind him followed the same agonising pattern. Left, right, left, right, and the only colour that surrounded him was white and grey with the occasional beige rope and grey brick. Monotone. Dull. He’d much rather be back within the confines of the monastery, back within your hold, soft hands caressing his frame and settling his mind. He needs the colour back… 

He needs you. 

Far off in the distance, his systems pick up faint movement. Something was approaching him slowly and no matter how hard he tried to single the entity out, the snow was too thick and continued to get in the way.

Ramattra deemed it another traveller, but then wondered why someone would be venturing out at this time knowing how bad the weather was. 

It wasn’t until he got closer that he realised who it was. His systems went into overdrive as he heats up, rushing over with panic rising within his wires. 

“[y/n]!” His hand drops the staff into the snow and reaches for your face, lifting your head up to face him. “What are you doing out here?” His tone was full of worry and concern. He notices how cold your body is despite the several layers you have on. “You are freezing!” 

Through slurred and chattered words, you speak quietly to him. “Came to find you.” 

Though touched, Ramattra shakes his head, turning to pick up his staff before looking back at you. “Your concern touches me, but you could hurt yourself.” 

“Was worried.” 

Ramattra notices the lack of words and takes another look at you, seeing the flushed cheeks and blue lips. Placing his staff in his other hand, he pulls back your hat and sees how red your ears are. His system flares up, warning him that frostbite had begun setting in for you. 

“We need to get you back. Now.” There was urgency in his voice as he covers your ear back up. “Can you walk?” 

You stare at him, your own head trying to process his words. 

He sighs, dropping the bag and staff back into the snow as he takes off his cowl and draping it over your shoulders, pulling the hood over your head. He turns and kneels, allowing you to climb onto his back to which you do without questioning him. Before he stands, he grabs the bag and staff, hooking the bag into the crook of his arm and carrying the staff in his hand once more. 

Before he starts walking, he slowly heats his back up and runs through several different plans on how to conserve what power he has remaining in order to get back to the monastery without too much damage. 

There was roughly an hour left of the journey, however, with you on his back and the added weight of the clothes and whatever was in your backpack, he estimates another half an hour at a steady pace. I am pushing it… he thinks to himself, beginning the walk. 

“Where did you go?” You mumble into his back. 

“I had an errand I needed to run.” He states, the grip on your thighs was tight as he keeps you from falling from his back. He feels you nod and hum. “You are a fool.” 

“I know.” 

“Something could have happened to you.” 

“I know.” 

“This is serious. Your body isn’t made for these harsh climates. You should have stayed at the monastery.”

“I was worried.” You tighten your grip around his neck, feeling the warmth seep though your clothing from his back. 

“You are making me worried right now. You have frostbite.” He sighs, trying to keep his pace fast. 

You smile, nuzzling your head into his back, the cowl covering your face from the snow. “It’s nice to know you care.” 

Ramattra squeezes your thigh once. “I have always cared about your wellbeing.” 

“Liar.” 

He chuckles. “Okay, maybe not all of the time, but more so since we got closer.” 

“You’re nice when you’re soft.” 

“I am not soft.” 

…

…

The walk back to the monastery was slow, Ramattra having to make a quick stop in one of the local stores to pick up some hot tea for your hands to hold on the rest of the journey. He stayed silent, not muttering a word to you about where he had been and what he had been up to, and that irked you somewhat. After risking your life to look for him, you had hoped he’d be a little more forthcoming with his whereabouts.

When you two had arrived at the monastery, finally safe within the confines of the stone walls, the monks inside were relieved to see that the pair of you were okay. One monk handed you a hot drink after taking the other empty cup from your hands, whilst another was quick to pull you towards the nearby fire to warm up. 

Ramattra watched on, a comforting feeling coursing within his wires as he realised just how much your presence meant to the others. He tilts his head towards you and if he could smile, he would be doing just that. 

By the time the evening came around, the pair of you had wandered back to your shared living quarters, finally stripped free of the outdoor clothing. He sat with you, the usual spot of him on the floor and you sat behind him on the sofa. He let you keep wearing his cowl, marvelling in the way it made you look and bundled up in something he loved to wear made him feel warmer.

“I was worried about you.” You finally broke the silence you shared, hands tangled within his cabled hair. 

“So you have said.” He chuckles. “You did not need to come looking for me.” 

“What if you never made it back?” 

“You do not need to worry about that. I planned accordingly.” He states. 

“But-”

“I am here now, am I not?” He tilts his head up to look up at you. “Your concern for me is appreciated, but you did not need to risk your life.” 

“I would risk everything just to make sure you were okay.” You smile down, thumb brushing the white faceplate of his. “Christmas wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

“It is our first Christmas.” Ramattra shifts his optics, looking at the soft glow of the fire within your eyes. 

“One of many, I would hope.” You could feel his head get a little heavier as he leans into your hands. You continue to speak, voice soft and loving. “I wish you would’ve said you were leaving. Everyone was worried about you.”

“I will remember that for next time, but as I said-”

“I do not need to worry.” You laugh, badly mimicking him. 

Ramattra chuckles before looking forward again, the fire warming up his faceplate as he goes back to a meditative state. 

“Are you charging again?” You whisper, pulling his cowl up around your arms. 

“Yes.” 

“How long do you have left?” 

“Two days.” 

“Why is it so long?”

“I have been in and out of this state for the last four days.” He states, fingers twitching on his lap. “I… May have dropped to below ten percent.” 

“Ramattra!” 

…

…

The omnic was in and out of conversation during the two days he was charging, but those two days lasted longer than either of you had wanted. Christmas morning came around and Ramattra was still sitting there on the floor.

The fire had been put out and relit several times over. Your hands stroked his wires while you sat there in silence, listening to the hum of his inner workings; and even now as you sat on the sofa in the exact same spot, Ramattra was still motionless on the floor. 

Part of you worried, but the occasional twitch of his servos was all the indication you needed that he was still here. 

He finally woke up in the early afternoon. His hands flexed before his fans picked up speed slightly which startled you out of the small nap you had fallen into. The room was a comfortable warm, dangerous even, as it pulled you under for the last hour. 

“You’re awake.” You say, voice quiet as you sit up. 

“So are you.” Ramattra chuckles. “My charge is finally complete.”

“I’m glad.” You reach up to him, pressing your forehead against his. “You were gone longer than two days.”

“I am sorry.” His own hands come up your jaw, pulling you in a little closer. 

“You babble omnicode a lot.” 

“I do?” He tilts his head in questioning. 

You smile, letting out an airy laugh. “Yes. It’s quite funny.” 

“I am glad you find humour in that.” 

He doesn’t let go of you as he pulls his face back. “You are still wearing that.” 

You look down at the cowl still draped around your shoulders. “Yes… It smells like you.” 

He chuckles. “Keep it. It looks good on you.” 

As you look up at him, Ramattra admires the way your face lights up before finally dropping his hands. 

“And, I have this for you.” He steps away, heading for the bag that he had placed at the foot of the bed when he entered the room those two and a half days ago. He returns, handing the bag to you. 

“Ramattra…” You look down at the bag and then back at him. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way-”

“I insist. It is the holidays after all.” He gestures for you to sit down on the sofa and sits besides you when you do. 

He watches you, optics shifting their aperture as the fire flickers. When you pull out a soft sweater, carefully knit in your favourite colour, your cheeks heat up and not from the fire. 

“Rama…” Your voice was gentle as you feel the knitted garment, fingers tracing over the soft fabric. 

“I do hope it fits. I had to guess.” He admits, looking down at his hands. 

You smile, tugging off the cowl and pulling on the sweater. The sleeves were long, bunching at the wrists. It was a size too big, but in the cold weather, it was perfect for snuggling up into. Straightening the fabric on the front of your body, you look back at him, a warm flush on your cheeks. 

“I love it!” Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. 

His arms come up, hands caressing your back.

“I do hope it keeps you warm, even in the harshest of winters.” He mumbles into your neck. 

“You went out of your way to get me this…” Tears prick your eyes. “You remembered.”

He chuckles. “It is hard for me to forget. We were walking through that village five months ago when you saw it in the window. There… Is also something else.” Ramattra feels you pull back and then look at him with confusion. 

“Something else?” 

“Yes.” He pulls you off of him and grabs the bag, pulling out a small box and handing it to you. “I… Had this one personally made.” 

“What-” The shock was evident on your face as you stare at him. “Ramattra-”

He hushes you, holding onto your hips as he watches you open the box. 

“Ramattra…” Your tone softens as your fingers touch the small necklace that sits in the cushioned box. “This is…” 

“Merry Christmas, [y/n].” His thumbs gentle rub the sides of your body as he keeps his grasp on you. 

“Thank you…” 

“Anything for you, my dear.” He trails his hands up your sides before resting his palms on your jawline, pulling you in as he taps his forehead against yours. 

“Promise me one thing?” You ask, placing the box down and holding onto the golden metal of his jaw, thumbs caressing it slowly. 

“That highly depends on what that promise is.” He jests, moving his hands back down your body and squeezing your sides. 

“Please tell me the next time you might be gone for a few days…” 

Ramattra leans further into you, thumbs pressing into you. “You are insufferable. I promise.” 

You laugh, tilting your head up and pressing your lips against the centre of his faceplate. “Thank you.” 

His fans pick up, humming quietly in the silent room. 

“Are you blushing?” 

“Would you consider this blushing?” He tilts his head before looking away. 

The smile on your face makes him turn away further. “You are blushing.” 

His grip gets a little tighter which causes you to laugh more only for him to pull you flush against his chest. 

“Ramattra!” Through the giggle fit, you wrap your arms around him, feeling his body vibrate as his inner workings get louder and faster. 

He only chuckles in response, body warming up with every passing second you stay with him. 

“[y/n]...” His vocaliser softens, optics staring out of the window as the snow falls outside. 

You hum, slowly relaxing against him. “Yeah?” 

Ramattra hesitates before speaking. “I love you.” 

He feels you tighten your grip on his back and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. The sweater feels soft and warm in his hands as he rubs up and down your back. 

“I love you too.” 

You stay in his hold for a little while longer, revelling in the warmth he was emanating. Hands dipping in and over the metal braces that lined his chest and back. His body hums quietly alongside the fire and your breathing. 

“Perhaps we should show ourselves to the other monks.” He tries to pull away but when you hold him just a little bit tighter, he stops talking altogether. 

“They can wait a little longer…” Softly spoken by you, Ramattra chuckles in response, pushing you further into his chest. 

He goes to speak but nothing comes close to the amount of love and comfort he was feeling. 

Your breathing slows, body relaxing against him. “If this is how we spend this Christmas, I hope we spend the others like this too.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

“Just… Without the whole running off into a storm thing.” You laugh, leaning back and looking up at him. 

“Your persistence about that issue continues to astound me.” He tilts his head to the side, hand coming up to caress your cheek to which you lean into. 

“I love you, Ramattra. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas. I love you, [y/n].” 

[random-things-of-mine]

Microscopic mistake

Rainbow Factory Wally x GN Reader

______________________

"The biggest scam in life was Rainbow saying he wouldn't get angry if I told him the truth."

Y/n muttered this under their breath as they stood in Rainbows office, nervously twisting their fingers.

Their boss stood across the desk, his white lab coat pristine, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was unreadable, except for the slight twitch of his long hair that betrayed his barely contained irritation.

"Explain." Rainbow said, his voice calm and cold, which was somehow worse than outright yelling. The silence stretched, and Y/n swore the whirring machinery in the factory below grew louder just to mock them.

"Well..." Y/n hesitated. "You see, it's not that big of a deal. Just a... tiny mistake."

He raised a single, sharp brow. "A tiny mistake."

"Yeah! Like, super tiny. Microscopic, really!" They grinned nervously, hoping humor might save them. It didn't.

"Enlighten me."

They took a deep breath. "Okay, so... remember how you told me to double-check the color calibrations for today's production run?"

"Yes." He replied, his tone clipped.

"And how you said—uh—'Y/n, if you mess this up, there will be consequences'? And I said, 'Don't worry, boss, I've got this'?"

"Yes." His eyes narrowed.

"Well, funny story..." They let out a nervous laugh. "Instead of double-checking the calibrations, I kind of... maybe... accidentally set them to grayscale?"

Silence. Absolute, deafening silence.

"Grayscale." Rainbow repeated slowly, as if testing the weight of the word.

Y/n nodded rapidly. "Yup! So, uh, instead of a rainbow of vibrant colors, the factory is currently producing... fifty shades of grey. Literally."

Rainbows expression didn't change, but the way he leaned forward slightly over the desk made Y/n's survival instincts scream.

"You mean to tell me." He began, his voice icy. "That an entire day's worth of production, the very foundation of this factory, has been turned into artistic monotony because you didn't double-check the settings?"

"Artistic monotony is one way to put it." They mumbled, then immediately regretted it.

Rainbow straightened, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. "Do you know what happens to assistants who make mistakes like this?"

"Um... they get promoted?" Y/n offered weakly.

Rainbows eyes snapped to them, and they quickly added. "Kidding! Totally kidding!"

He stepped around the desk, moving closer, and they instinctively backed up until their back hit the wall. Together with his tall stature, he had a presence that could silence a room—or an assistant's smart mouth.

"I should throw you into the Color Recalibrator and see how you like being reduced to grayscale." He muttered darkly.

They gulped. "I'd prefer not to, if I'm being honest."

Rainbow stopped, tilting his head as if considering the idea. Then, with a sigh, he straightened and adjusted his coat. "Fix it. Now. Or you'll find out firsthand how forgiving I really am."

Y/n bolted for the door, muttering to themselves. "Yup, biggest scam ever. He definitely gets angry."

As they scrambled to fix the mistake, the tired puppet man leaned against his desk, letting out a low huff. "Fifty shades of grey." He murmured to himself, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

As much as his incompetent assistant drove him mad, he didn't have to heart to get rid of them. At least so far.

______________________