#i was waiting for them to show up and stuff

[sweetcalebb]

Zayne's tired and snaps at you ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 1k

a/n: this was an ask by anon! i accidentally posted it before it was ready </3 but they requested angst and said that they were going thru a rough time. i'm really sorry to hear that :( my DMS/ inbox is always open. but i hope this is okay, and if it's not, pls feel free to let me know thru the comments, my DMs, or thru another ask! 🫶🏻

content: hurt/no comfort, zayne is stressed, slight neglect, themes of insecurity, sad reader </3, also avoidant reader again!! (let me know if u want something else)

––

It'd been a long week. You hadn't talked to Zayne as much as you would've liked—or at all.

You weren't particularly clingy, but you missed him. You missed telling him about your day and the random gossip from work. You missed hearing about his days, too. Missed seeing his lips curl in that micro smile you loved. You missed the way he’d kiss your temple before closing the door. The way his eyes softened when he asked about your day.

So you waited up for him. You sat on the couch, eyes glued to the TV screen playing your favorite show while you passed the time.

You'd been up for hours. And when you finally heard the familiar click of the front door, followed by a quiet creak, your heart nearly leapt in your throat.

You turned the volume down and glanced up at him.

He looked tired, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. But you tried for a soft smile and a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey."

Low. Clipped.

You swallowed back the rising feeling of rejection.

"How was it tonight?"

Zayne didn't look at you. He loosened his tie and dropped his bag by the door. "Long," he murmured.

You stood up, the words coming out slowly. "I know you're tired.. But can we talk? We haven't really—"

"I'm—I need a moment," he said, finally looking up at you, eyes narrowed and jaw tense. "Let me breathe."

Heat stung your face. Breathe?

What was that supposed to mean? Was he trying to imply that you were... suffocating? That when you tried to speak to him—really talk to him—for the first time this week, it was suffocating?

You hesitated. "Breathe?"

"Yes, breathe."

You let out a quiet breath. "We've barely spoken all week, but I try to talk to you once and all of a sudden I'm—"

"Please," Zayne suddenly exasperated, his voice rising before quickly leveling again.

He looked away, shrugging out the cuff-links of his shirt. "I can't do this right now. So please... just—don't."

He waited a second, like maybe he realized how ugly those words sounded. But if he noticed it, he didn't apologize.

Instead, he shuffled down the hall to your shared bedroom like he hadn't just dug a hole in your chest.

He didn't mean to.

He would never mean to.

It was misplaced anger. But it felt all the same.

I can't deal with you right now.

That's what it sounded like to you.

Tears stung your eyes. You tried to will them back. It wasn't Zayne's fault. He was working late taking care of people—saving lives even. You should he happy.

It wouldn't be fair.

Your chin trembled, eyelids burning and throat frantically working around nothing.

But you didn't cry. Not yet.

Quietly, you started down the hall to your shared bedroom and stopped at the door. You peeked inside, palms sweating at the thought of seeing Zayne again.

But he wasn't there—must've been taking a shower. So hastily, you grabbed a pillow, a blanket, and stumbled back to the living room.

The world began to blur through tears as the floor croaked underneath you. You could hardly see, but you kept walking.

You set your stuff down on the couch. Then, finally, a broken sound tore from your throat. You whimpered, desperately pressing your lips shut to stop the rest from coming, but it was too late.

Was it too much to want to talk to your tired boyfriend?

You sank to the couch, your shoulders shaking with the force of your cries.

He can't handle you.

You're too much.

The cushions dipped under your weight as you shifted, trying to get comfortable, even as everything felt wrong—your skin, your thoughts, your feelings, your very being.

You brought the blanket up to your face and turned to face the cushions, shoulders still shaking with silent sobs.

I can't do this right now.

His words replayed in your mind. Over and over until the ache in your chest burned and your throat throbbed.

The tears subsided after half an hour, but you still lied there, restless—cheeks red and sticky, eyes bloodshot and puffy, lips swollen and raw, breath catching in your throat painfully. You were a mess. A sensitive, snotty mess.

Then, quiet footsteps.

You snuggled deeper into the blankets and shut your eyes. Maybe if you pretended to sleep, you could file this away and shove it deep, deep down.

Pretend it never happened.

"Sweetheart?"

Your heart ached, but you said nothing.

Zayne stepped closer. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he crouched beside the couch.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered.

Still, nothing.

His hand hovered over your shoulder for a second, hand flexing like he was torn between touching you and pulling away. His hand dipped closer, just an inch away, then he stopped.

Silently, he pulled away.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch." He waited a beat. "I can take it."

Again. Nothing.

Zayne sighed, the sound strained. "I… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I lost my composure," he murmured. "I have no right to ask, but can you come back to bed?"

Finally, he reached out again. And for a second, you let him touch you. But everything came rushing back—his tone, his looks, his words.

You pulled away, shifting as close to the cushions as you could, like his touch was something you dreaded.

Zayne swallowed hard, another shaky breath leaving his lips. "I'll respect your space."

He stood up again, but he lingered. Then softly—so soft you almost didn't recognize him—he whispered, "Goodnight."

He waited. Seconds passed, but you didn't say anything. Your lip trembled like you were about to, but you didn't.

Then he was gone again, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

Tears spilled down your cheeks again, staining your pillow.

It was stupid. So stupid.

He said sorry. He asked you to come back to bed.

But you let him sit there in his own silence.

Maybe you were too much.

[rainrot4me]

I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA

how do you think the proxies/creeps would subtly show that they like you? aka obvious signs they have a crush on you

✦ . JEFF THE KILLER

Jeff’s version of “subtle” is standing closer than necessary and making rude jokes that weirdly sound like compliments. He doesn’t know how to flirt—he teases, smirks, and gets overly protective when others talk to you. He’ll stare from across the room, dead-eyed, until you look back, then pretend he wasn’t staring.

“What’re you looking at? …Tch. Whatever. You’ve got something on your face.” He wipes it off with his sleeve, then walks away fast.

✦ . TICCI TOBY

Toby gets nervous. He stutters more, taps his fingers, pulls at his hoodie strings. He’ll bring you random stuff—rocks, weird flowers, trinkets he found in the woods—like a forest gremlin version of gift-giving. If you’re cold, his jacket is yours.

“I dunno… I j-just saw it and thought…you m-might like it. It’s dumb, just t-throw it out if you want.”

✦ . EYELESS JACK

EJ won’t say it aloud, but he lingers longer when he checks your injuries or tends to you. He starts memorizing your habits, prefers to be in the room with you even if he’s silent, and might brush his hand against yours under the guise of a pulse check.

“You’re hungry. Again. I made something for you. Eat it.” It’s your favorite dish, suspiciously perfectly prepared.

✦ . MASKY (TIM WRIGHT)

Masky gets quietly territorial. He’ll always stand between you and others, offer you a smoke, let you wear his jacket. Doesn’t speak much about his feelings but will do little things—fix a broken item of yours, patch up your shirt without saying anything.

“You gonna keep wearing that torn sleeve? Here. Sit still.”

✦ . HOODIE (BRIAN THOMAS)

Hoodie is subtle to a terrifying degree. He’s always aware of your presence, keeps tabs on your mood, and shows affection through acts of service—making sure your door is locked, quietly fixing your gear, handing you your favorite drink without asking. You never see him coming, but his playlist changes to your favorite songs whenever you’re around.

“Your gun was rusting a little on the trigger. It’s all good now. Just watch out for it.”

✦ . KATE THE CHASER

Kate gets sarcastic. She’ll tease, bump shoulders, act like she’s just “looking out for you.” But she watches you more than she watches others, and gets weirdly quiet when you get all giggly with her. Also, she always volunteers to go on missions with you.

“I’m not following you around—I just don’t trust the others not to get you killed. That’s all.”

✦ . BEN DROWNED

Ben gets cocky. He challenges you to games constantly, brags when he wins, and sulks when you beat him. He’ll stream you horror games he knows you hate just so you’ll “need” him close. May glitch your phone to have no signal so you’re forced to hang out with him.

“You’re seriously terrible at this game. Lucky you’ve got me, huh?”

✦ . CLOCKWORK

Natalie tries to act chill, but she gets flustered around you. She fidgets with her blade, talks a little faster, makes more eye contact than usual. She’ll make excuses to spend time near you, like training together or sharpening gear next to you.

“Wanna practice hand-to-hand? Or you could just sit there and watch me. I don’t know, it’s whatever.”

✦ . LAUGHING JACK

LJ goes full chaos. More magic tricks, more gifts, more jokes. He pokes at you (literally and figuratively) just to get your attention. If you laugh at his jokes, he’ll light up like a Christmas tree and hover around you the rest of the day.

“Oh, you like that one? Just wait! I’ve got a hundred more—unless you don’t like them. Oh, well. I’ll tell them anyway!”

✦ . NINA THE KILLER

Nina is shameless. She blushes, giggles, and clings to your arm. She’ll carve your name into trees, write hearts with your initials, and stare dreamily when you talk. If you compliment her? She might actually faint like a victorian maiden saved by her knight.

“You’re so sweet… Stoppp I’m flattered. Wanna match outfits?”

✦ . HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu is careful. He smiles gently, listens to you talk for hours, and always makes sure you’re okay. He’ll brush hair from your face, offer you tea, and stare at your lips when you speak. You’ll catch him looking away too quickly.

“You talk like you don’t know how captivating you are. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

✦ . JANE EVERLASTING

Jane is respectful, but her affection shows through her loyalty. She defends you in conversations, praises your strengths, and checks in on your emotional state. She treats your opinion like gold and always makes time for you.

“No offense, but I only came to this because I knew you’d be here.”

✦ . X-VIRUS

Cody flirts. Constantly. He’s touchy, makes suggestive jokes, but backs off the moment you seem uncomfortable. Underneath that, though, he gets real quiet when you’re upset, and will actually go out of his way to make you laugh.

“C’mon, beautiful. Don’t look at me like that—I’ll die of guilt and then who’ll charm you?”

✦ . SLENDERMAN

Slenderman doesn’t show it the way humans do. He watches over you, warps reality to protect you, and appears the moment your heartbeat spikes. He communicates through feeling—like safety and calm when he’s near. Sometimes you find little notes left behind. You hear a soft hum in the forest, and suddenly, you feel…very safe.

“Sit and stay if you prefer. I’ll be here.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[on-the-clear-blue]

Unlike the others, Connor wasnt very excited about having a new "brother".

He had only really truly started to get along with Clark (yes he refused to call the man anything else) a few months ago after years of emotional will tehy won't theying, and it was only now that Connor actually had a room at the Kents.

But as always, they were firmly still awkward around each other, usually needing another person there to be social lubricant to make sure neither of them said something random like "Why dont you love me" or "I never wanted you to exits but-"

Anyways...after the sudden outburst of swearing and cursing to flipping Batman of all people, Connor was looking forward to at least introducing Danny to Tim...not the other Bats or Birds just yet, no body needs that kinda attitudes or bullshittery without deserving it.

His eyes flicked between this Maddie lady and Clark, he could see the resignation on her face, along with guilt and a swiftly crushed hope.

('Wow, great job Clarkie, way to just harsh the vibe')

The boy, or really, teen was standing by his mother looking he would rather be anywhere else, and Connor could understand that too a T.

He was told that Danny had powers and a lab accident, so at least the usually Kryptonian suite of weirdness mixed with whatever kinda crazy science that the Fentons had cooked up (Clark had been tight lipped with just what exactly the woman and the husband she cheated on were doctors of, though he was sure a quick stop to Titans Tower or a YJ base to run a search)

What Connor was trying to get at was...Danny would 100% get a "Super" title and some blue spandex in a week tops, maybe sooner. Something about being around Clark just made perfectly sane people decide to be heros and vigilantes.

(For fucks sake he is sure he had caught Lois brainstorming a hero name out loud before she saw him and blushed harder than he had ever seen her do before telling him to go clean his room)

---

Clark stared into Madelines eyes, daring the woman to say something else, to try and insulate that he could have been cared the least bit about her still.

There was a time, years back, that he would have dropped everything in his life to see this woman again, he had built her up to be some sort of goddess in his mind and yet.

The second he actually saw her again all he could feel was apathy for her, and anger at being denied access to his son.

He watched as she nodded, eyes squeezed shut before letting out a long sigh, before finally turning away from Clark, and to the son he never knew he had.

"Daniel, I love you. More than you ever could know...Jack and I will fix this, we...it was our fault this is happening. I will call you when I can okay? Jazz will be coming up next week with some supplies and a few..." the woman turned to the Kents, then to the people milling in the street, it seemed the Fenton sized tank was gathering more attention the longer it stayed there on the busy city street.

"She'll have some vials, it should speed up the healing process, dont use any of *those* powers dont turn, anything with ecto can alert them, just..." the woman's eyes flicker to the Kents once more, "Learn from your...learn from Clark how to defend yourself, he will know a bit more than I do about what you can do."

The two, mother and son, shared a long hug before they pulled apart, and like that Madeline Fenton was out of his life once again.

---

Okay yeah Jon had so many questions and he was going to explode if he cant ask any of them.

But a quick look to his mom and- Yeah the clouds look great today, totally not going to just blurt stuff out, it would be...untactful.

He watched as the silver hulking beast actually crunched down the street, leaving some cracks on the pavement as it sped off...

Yeah the Mayor was so going to hear about that...at least this time it wasnt one of his family members that caused the destruction of public property!

Wait tho if it was Danny's mom then...technically it was...

"Dad can I show Daniel around the house! I want to give him the tour!" Jon decided that, it wanst worth worrying about the city's budget when he had a new brother to show around!

His Dad looked towards him, having stared after the silver tank as it left until he called out, and he only gave a small smile when Jon usually would have gotten a grin, "Of course kiddo, just go slow with him...Daniel is still healing."

Right, he was hurt...wait what even hurt him? Like he was a half Kryptonian right? Did this GIW group find Kryptonite? Ughhhhh that would totally, utterly suck dealing with...

But thats Later Jon's problem, right now he had something better to do!

"Come on! We're sharing a room since Kon is a jerk and didn't want to share! Mom and I built a bunk bed and I'll even let you get the top bunk if you want! Oh this is gonna be so cool!"

Grabbing his new brothers hand, Jon started to, carefully, drag him into the condo building.

---

After one awkward elevator ride up, filled with the youngest chattering away about anything that seemed to pop into his mind, Danny was very quickly realizing just how much the low ecto in Metropolis was affecting him.

Danny was usually pretty good with kids younger than him, having done his fair share of babysitting jobs and dealing with Young Blood, and hell, Jon wasnt even that much younger than him, barely a year and half younger (if Tuckers super secret technique of scrolling through Clark and Lois's Facebook accounts were correct)

But by the time the elevator stopped, and he was able to step out, Danny was utterly drained.

Maybe it was the cross country road trip at break neck speed, dodging their GIW tails and fighting anyone that they couldn't go around, plus the extra burden of healing...

Danny only wanted to eat a dozen Nasty Burgers, down a gallon of cola and hibernate till next spring.

Though, he didnt have the heart to phase through Jon's grip on his arm, and let himself be pulled along.

Once inside the apartment he would be staying in for an undisclosed period of time (about long enough for his mom and...yeah Jack is still his Dad, to dismantle the GIW), Danny could see that it was a pretty average place, nothing super fancy but still better than his house. Though not as fancy as Sam's mansion.

"Okay so this is the living room, Mom says we can watch what ever we want as long as it is pg-13 or keep it down if it's R, the dining room is over there, we only really eat then on Sundays." Danny nodded along, walking with yhe younger boy before pausing as he felt his phone vibrate in him.

Yes, inside of him.

He had lost the damn thing so many times between fights, extra dimensional hops and governmental black site medical exams that he had found it just so easy to keep inside of him for safe keeping.

Looking over to Jon to pull his hand away, he was met with a barely, pathetically hidden look of horror.

Then he felt a large hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was spun around, looking at his bio dad and oh shit he looks pissed...oh not pissed, okay many a bit angry but very concerned it seemed.

"Daniel...what is ringing inside of you?"

Ugh...he really didn't want to deal with this....

Maddie looked down at the floating, giggling baby boy in front of her, and felt old guilt bubble up inside of her.

It had been at first time Jack and her had fought, disagreeing on theories and neither of them left the arguments at the lab, Jazz had just been a little girl then, barely tottering around with a big gummy smile.

They had tried to patch it up, to pretend that the words they said in their rants didn't hurt, but in the end...Jack had taken Jazz up state, vist his family for the summer and leaving Maddy all alone.

It really was a moment of weakness, she had met Clark Kent and it was a whirlwind of emotions almost instantly.

She had a type, sue her, big nerdy farm boys that stuttered when they got kissed, who looked at her like she was the only thing that ever mattered...

She saw Jack in Clark's sky blue eyes, and the guilt built up.

The romance was wild and fast, like a runaway train hurtling towards a cliff. They moved fast, skipping through the long talks and planning that she had with Jack, and going right to the down and dirty.

Even though she loved it (even though she loved Him) Maddie knew that she couldn't keep it up, she admitted in the end, that she was married, that she had a child and neither of them wanted to tare that family apart.

She still remembered the betrayed look on Clark's face when she told him, when he found out that she was cheating on her husband, the kind of hurt that echoed in her mind, those sky blue eyes that she fell so hard for were like icy flakes as she held her head in her hands and cried.

She didn't know what she had wanted from.him then, to fight for her, perhaps to even comfort her at that time, even though she had spent the last months living a lie. In the end Clark just stood and left, his shoulders tight and back straight, walking out of the small apartment that Maddie rented in Metropolis to get away from it all.

It was for the best, she knew that. When Jack came back they managed to work the relationship out, Jazz had been young enough not to remember the fighting.

And by the time that the baby bump started to form, she didn't doubt that it couldn't have been Jacks child.

(A lingering in the back of her mind, a dark nothingness whispered, "its not his. It's the man you toyed with and threw away")

She had managed to push those thoughts aaway, convincing herself that it had to be Jacks, that the child (Daniel, after her grandfather) would bring them together, mend the cracks even more.

When the boy was born she could only see His eyes. Not Jacks cloudy, ocean blues, but Clark's stark sky colored ones, the same small curl in his downy baby hair.

She had never felt more in love, and never had felt more disgusted in herself.

Maddie let Jack think Danny was his, trying to keep the grimace off her face each time she saw her husband, the man she had spent so long building up a new branch of science with, coo and tickle the child that was proof of her infidelity.

When the boy started to float, that was when she felt a pang of panic, she didn't have the meta gene, she had tested and double tested to make sure, and came to the conclusion that it was Clark. That Clark had powers and never felt comfortable enough to tell her.

(Little did she know, that on the day she told him, Clark had a ring in his pocket, his mother's simple band that held a small diamond, he had planned to propose, to tell her his biggest secret, but the words died in his throat at her confession, and the box now sat, in the dark corner of his bedside table, only to be gazed at with a sorrowful heart in days he is reminded of the woman he thought he knew)

It was when the boy, Danny was age 14, bloody and delirious, with scars in a Y shape across his chest that oozed green instead of red, when she had to pull him out from a lab that used her own technology to torture her son that she finally pulled out her phone, with shaking hands she typed out the same number that even after all these years she still remembered.

"Hello Kent residency! How can I help ya?" A young voice answered, and she could hear the cheery sunshine smile through the line.

("He has a family now. Don't you dare feel jealous Madeline, you did this to yourself")

"Hi there, is Clark there? I-i need to speak to him about something." She managed to say with an even voice, even though her heart pounded in her chest.

"Uhhh...yeah I think Dad is around. Lemme-oop here he is" there was a rustling as the phone was passed between hands, a whispered conversation.

("Who is it Jon? *I dunno Dad, just some lady asking for you?* sigh, dont just answer my phone son, now go help your mother, it isnt fair that she does all the house work")

There was a shuffle of feet and then- "Hello, Clark speaking, may I ask who is calling?"

That voice. It was deep but gentle and caring, smooth like velvet with a hit of that country still in him.

"Clark...its been a while....I-its Madeline. Please dont hang up. I am just...I just need you help with something." She hears a sharp drawn in breath, the perfect stillness that she could have thought that he had hung up until-

"What do you need." It was clipped, words controlled and even, though there was something behind held back, old emotions and hurt dug back up with just a simple phone call.

"After...our-our relationship. I got back with Jack. I am not...not calling to get back together. It's just...Clark I was pregnant. It...he was yours."

There was another drawn in breath, then a sound closer to a whimper than a sigh "W-what?" (On the other side, the Man of Steel was hunching over the living room coffee table, glasses thrown to the side as he massaged the bridge of his nose, breath speeding up as his brain raced) "How...how can you be sure it is mine..."

She presses her back agaisnt a wall, her head leaning agaisnt it as her eyes closed, "Clark. He can fly. And lift cars. And...and lived when thousands of volts of electricity ran through his body...I dont have the meta gene, neither does my parents or Jack and his. The only conclusion i can come is that..."

"He's mine..." Clark's voice was limp, sounding far away yet all the same still there.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, both clearly going though the motions, before Clark finally spoke "Why did you never tell me till now." There was a longing in his voice, one that Maddie couldn't fully understand.

"It wasnt until he was born that I knew for certain Danny was yours Clark. I didn't want to...to risk everything that Jack and I had built again after it all just to call you...I knew how much you had wanted to be a father but i...I was scared Clark."

The mans stuttered breathing was the only way that Maddie knew that he hadn't hung up, "I am only reaching out now that...that Danny is in danger. Things have been happening and...he needs to get away from Amity Park, the GIW have been hunting him. I have managed to stem most of the attempts but they are getting annoyed at the lack of results. I dont ask you this lightly Clark...but I have no body else to ask."

The line was quiet for a while, before Clark breathed out slowly, "I would love to meet him...a-and if he is in danger...i-i would be honored to take care of him."

---

Danny clutches his bag as he stares up at the tall condo, his nose scrunching up as he makes a face, "...Y'know mom when I said I wanted to cosplay Percy Jackson for Halloween I was thinking, more letting me dye my hair silver for the stripe thing and getting an orange t-shirt and a sword, less finding out my dad isnt actually my dad and getting shipped to New York..."

Maddie sighs as she rubs at her eyes, "Daniel...please. this is hard for me enough already. I really do not have the patience for the sass...Clark is a good man, he will take care of you while Jack and I take care of the GIW..."

Neither of them get the chance to respond as a tall man with curly black hair steps out from the condos entrance, flanked by a dark haired woman, a young boy with a big smile and a punkish looking teen that seemed to want to be anywhere else.

"Here they are Danny, the Kents."

[urrockstar-xe]

need you - j.t x fem!reader

posted july 13th, 1:19 am

watching captain america brave new world to feel something again lols, not proofread and mentions of reader's hair, also the spanish is google translated please correct me if it's wrong!!

dad!Joaquín x mom!reader fluff fluff fluff

masterlist

wc: 1.2

He was exhausted. Aching bones and bruised ribs, and a cut lip, was all he could bring home to you after this past mission. It was too late past midnight, there was no expectation for you to be up at this hour, not when you had updated him just two days prior about your toddler’s current sleeping schedule, and it was not good. 

But maybe, if he was lucky, you had been hoping for his early return, or read his mind somehow, and just knew, and put a plate away in the fridge for him to heat up upon his arrival. 

He was pretty certain he’d take scraps from the 13 month old at this point. 

With tired fingers, he punched in the code on the locked front door, his duffle heavy on his shoulder as he opened the door with a huff. 

It was quiet inside, as he had expected, living room lights were off, but the light in the kitchen was still glowing softly. He waited to hear the door automatically lock with a soft click sound, before going to investigate. 

Clues were splayed out the closer he got to the entry way to the small kitchen, a soft sound of keyboard typing and your quiet hum along to whatever 50s song was playing in your headphones. That must be why you hadn’t heard his entrance. Joaquín audibly sighed at the sight of you, still in your jewelry and makeup from the day but nice enough to yourself to put on pajama shorts instead of jeans and a hoodie, his hoodie. A baby monitor sat beside your macbook, the camera showing the crib of his sweet little girl curled up with a pacifier and her blanket. He smiled at both sights. 

He didn’t want to scare you, but he needed you. It had been rougher than usual without you these last couple weeks. A rougher mission, rougher bad guys.

The sight of you wasn’t enough anymore, he needed to feel you. 

Joaquín dropped his duffel in the doorway, hoping the noise would get your attention before moving to untie his boots.

Luckily for him the sound of it hitting the floor was heard just when the silence between the song ending and another beginning had stalled. You turned when he had his head down, pulling off your headphones ”Joaquín?”

He closed his eyes at the sound of your voice, pulling off his second boot before standing up straight and tilting his head in your direction. He could hear you getting up. 

“Hi honey,” 

he could melt at how sweet you sounded, the way your arms looped around his neck and pulled him into you, guiding his face to your neck and letting him just breath you in. Joaquín has to be in heaven, this must be what paradise feels like.

“I missed you” you murmured into his shoulder, nails running along his back and then down his arms when they wrapped around your waist in attempts to drag you closer. 

“Missed you, please keep talkin’” his voice was barely there, it was the first thing he had said since beginning the journey home. He needed to hear your voice, needed you.

“Okay” you thought for a few seconds on what to say next, pressing a soft kiss to his jacket covered skin. “Thank you for comin’ home to us in one piece. I didn’t wanna tell you over the phone but Mari keeps crying for you.” 

Joaquín let out a sad hum at that, before letting you continue.

“I’ve been up trying to write some while she was finally sleeping. I only made grilled cheeses for dinner but we still have so much stuff if you want me to make you one?” You cut off any rambling that could’ve been forming to ask the question, pulling away to finally really look at his face.

Joaquín opened his eyes, taking in the mix of concern and relief in yours, the faded lipstain and the way your hair was falling into your face. 

His hands found your cheeks, and you leaned into them. Your eyes scanning his face over a billion and one times to make sure he wouldn’t crumble in your arms. 

“Grilled cheese actually sounds really great right now” 

You let out a soft laugh at his whispered words, earning a small, tired smile in return. 

“Okay, I’ll make you a couple.” 

Joaquín gingerly pressed his lips to yours, murmuring a soft thank you, and sighing at the feeling of your mouth on his before begrudgingly pulling away and moving to go change. 

You smiled, doing a small and silent but excited jump at your man finally being home before turning to the table and swiftly shutting your laptop. 

You were just about to open the fridge when you paused, watching the screen on the baby monitor as Joaquín came into frame, leaning barely on the bars of the crib and gently running his hand across the baby’s head. Not enough to wake her up but enough for his own piece of mind. 

You watched until he left the frame, a soft smile settling on your face as you nodded your head in an attempt to get rid of the tears brimming your eyes as you opened the fridge.

They were gone in time for Joaquín to be back, you were waiting for the sandwiches to be ready to flip when you felt his strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“Hola, mi amor, te extrañé” hello, my love, I missed you.

Quickly you flipped his food before turning in his arms to kiss him again, more needy this time, more urgent. 

Your hands found his hair as soon as his tongue found yours. Joaquín hummed into your mouth but the make out session was soon cut short at the idea of burning the last four pieces of bread and having to make another meal at almost 2 in the morning. 

He let out a quiet whine at the loss when you turned back to the stove. Instead pressing soft and wet kisses to your exposed neck, using one of his hands to assist you in tilting your head. Eventually he was just breathing you in again. Just letting his lips and nose linger in the crook of your neck, hands ever so softly squeezing your waist every so often. 

“Okay, baby.” You murmured, turning off the stovetop and patting his hands, a signal for him to move and when he reluctantly listened, you plated the two sandwiches and handed it to him, pecking his lips before letting him go sit down. 

You weren’t far behind him, taking the seat next to him and occupying yourself by cleaning up the small clutter you had left while working. Joaquín smiled, as if knowing that You needed to be near him too brought him some peace of mind about the fact that he would most definitely be up your ass the next couple days.

He always was after missions, you liked it that way. Showed it made an impact on him to not have you around.

Joaquín wiped his hands together after finishing half of his second one and crossed his arms, looking at you with a titled head. Tired and loving glazed over eyes watching you plug in your computer for tomorrow’s usage.

Once you turned back to face him, he was already beckoning you closer, pulling you down into his lap as soon as you became close enough. One hand around your waist and the other settled on your thigh, you ran your fingers through his already disheveled curls. 

“‘M glad you’re home,” you whispered. 

“Me too.”

[lillilybells]

May I request platonic batfamily x batsis!child!reader (maybe reader is like 4-5 yrs old) one day jason read her a fairytale book and explain her what having a crush on someone feel like. many days later reader told her brothers she's having a crush on someone. the batfam are going crazy tryna find who's her crush. (fortunate for them) turns out reader’s crush is a cartoon character she watch on tv.

Puppy crush✧₊��

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|batfamily x toddler!reader

summary|Jason’s not great at explanations..

word count|1214

warnings|this was made by a very sleep deprived human.

notes|not my best work but this request was so cute!!

masterlist

It was one of those rare days when Jason Todd actually decided to grace the manor with his presence. Nostalgia had struck like a semi-truck, and he figured a visit wouldn’t kill him—as long as Bruce didn’t try to lecture him and Alfred made those double chocolate cherry cookies he liked.

He made it explicitly clear that he was here for two things only: Alfred’s cooking and you—his favorite (and youngest) sibling. Everyone else could take a number.

You’d been clinging to him since the second he stepped foot inside.

Jason, in his leather jacket and boots, looked wildly out of place being tugged through the manor by a toddler in mismatched socks and a pink dress. You showed him every single crayon drawing taped to the wall in the kitchen, explaining each one like a gallery tour.

“This one’s me and Titus. I gave him a cape so he can fly.”

“Kid, if Titus could fly, Gotham would be a crater.”

“And this one’s you!” you pointed proudly at a red scribble with horns.

Jason mock gasped. “Why do I look like the devil?”

“Because I was mad at you last week,” you said sweetly. “You said you’d come and you didn’t.”

Jason clutched his heart.

After that, you insisted on baking cookies with him. Jason did most of the work while you sneakily ate half the chocolate chips and used flour like it was fairy dust. Alfred eventually stepped in before things got nuclear.

Finally, you and Jason collapsed onto the living room couch, the results of your baking sitting on a plate between you. The cookies were... technically edible. The TV played old Looney Tunes reruns as you cuddled up to Jason’s side, one thumb in your mouth, the other gripping his sleeve like a lifeline.

Bruce entered a few minutes later, arms crossed. “Alright. Enough cartoons. It’s bedtime.”

“Nooo!” you protested dramatically, hiding behind Jason’s arm. “I wanna stay with Jay Jay…”

Jason raised his brows at Bruce smugly. “See? Kid’s got good taste.”

“‘Jay Jay’ has to go home,” Bruce said pointedly. “Say goodnight.”

Jason shifted. “I can put the gremlin to bed. Don’t get your cape in a twist.”

Bruce exhaled heavily, then turned with a muttered, “Good luck with that…”

Upstairs, Jason managed to wrestle you into pajamas and tuck you into your pastel pink bed without much resistance. But as he made a break for the door—

“Wait! Where you goin’?” you frowned, grabbing his hand.

Jason blinked. “Uh… to go brood dramatically in the hallway?”

“Nooo,” you pouted. “Daddy tells me a story before bed.”

Jason squinted. “Bruce? Bruce Wayne? Tells you stories?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “From his ‘magination! Sometimes they’re about you!”

Jason tilted his head, stunned. “Okay, now I know you’re messing with me. Bruce doesn’t even tell me the Wi-Fi password.”

He sighed and dropped into the armchair beside your bed. “Alright, alright. A story. Let’s do this.”

You sat up excitedly, pulling the blanket to your chin.

“Okay, uh… once upon a time, there was a princess named… Snow White. She had a mean stepmom. Real piece of work. Kinda Cinderella vibes—”

“Who’s Cinderella?”

Jason blinked. “You don’t know Cinderella? What is Bruce teaching you?!”

“Taxes,” you said seriously.

Jason wheezed.

“Anyway,” he continued, regaining composure, “Snow White had to clean and do chores, which sucked. But she had animal friends and liked to sing and stuff. And one day, a prince walked by and heard her sing—and he got a crush on her.”

You tilted your head. “What’s a crush?”

Jason froze. “Oh. Uh…”

He leaned forward. “Okay, so a crush is when you like someone a lot. Like, you think they’re really cool and funny and cute. And they give you, like, butterflies in your stomach.”

“Like the zoo?”

“Sorta. But inside you.” He poked your tummy gently and you giggled.

“Did the prince get butterflies?”

“Yeah. Big ones. Like mutant butterflies.”

You giggled more, eyes starting to droop.

“And then they rode off into the sunset while the dwarfs cheered,” Jason finished, quietly. “The end.”

You yawned. “That was a good one, Jay Jay…”

“Goodnight, short stack.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before tiptoeing out.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Two days later…

It was a normal afternoon at Wayne Manor. Damian sat on the couch reading case files, sipping strong coffee, the picture of grim concentration.

You were on the floor with your crayons, singing to yourself and scribbling away.

Without a word, you waddled up to Damian, holding up your newest drawing.

He looked up. A tall stick figure with a cape, messy black hair, and a big pink heart next to its head.

“…Who is this?” he asked slowly.

You leaned in, voice conspiratorial. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He raised a brow. “Go ahead.”

“Pinky promise you won’t tell!” you held up your pinky with authority.

He sighed and linked his pinky with yours. “Fine. I swear.”

You grinned. “It’s my crush!”

Damian stared. “Your what?”

But you were already running off, giggling with the drawing hugged to your chest.

He blinked. “What the hell…?”

The thought haunted him all day. Who was your crush? Did he know them? Were they a threat? He needed to know.

Later that night, the Batfam returned to the cave after a long mission. When they wandered into the manor you greeted them all with a cheerful wave, still coloring.

Damian lingered in the shadows, arms crossed, staring at you like a secret agent trying to crack a code.

“Why are you looking at her like that?” Tim asked.

“She said she has a crush,” Damian answered darkly.

The room fell silent.

“...What?” Jason blinked.

“I was shown a drawing,” Damian continued. “Tall figure. Cape. Hair. Hearts.”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned. “Not already.”

“Do we know the guy?” Dick asked cautiously.

“No,” Damian hissed. “She ran off.”

“We need to find out,” Duke added, already concerned.

“Absolutely not telling Bruce,” Jason declared. “We don’t need him to realize she’ll grow up.

At that moment, you waddled in again, holding up a new drawing. “Look! It’s my crush!”

Jason crouched down slowly. “Alright, sweetheart. Who is that?”

You beamed. “Batman!”

Silence.

“…Seriously?” Damian blinked.

“He’s so cool! He punches bad guys and never smiles and has a cape and everything!” you explained proudly.

Jason fell back onto the floor with relief. “Thank god.”

Dick was laughing. Tim was trying not to. Damian turned away and muttered something under his breath.

“Don’t tell him, though!” you begged. “It’s a secret crush.”

“Too late,” Bruce’s voice cut through the air as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. “I’m telling him everything.”

“Daddy, nooo!” you squealed, giggling as he tickled your side.

The others watched in exhausted silence.

“Who taught her what a crush even is?” Tim asked.

Jason coughed. “Okay, to be fair, I was trying to tell her a bedtime story, not teach her about emotions.”

“Next time, be more specific, Todd,” Damian muttered.

“Or just… maybe don’t,” Dick added, patting Jason’s back. “I don’t need this scare again for another decade..”

You? You just sat in Bruce’s arms, happily drawing a new picture of Batman with a crown and hearts around his head.

[double-faced-spectre]

Simon didn’t want commitment, but he couldn’t stop visiting you. You and his daughter.

Part 1

Simon didn’t linger after he found out you were both okay and recovering after the delivery. He didn’t think it would go over well after the long and painful ordeal you had just been through, so he cut his losses, paid for your hospital stay and medicines, and fucked off. But that didn’t mean he had left you two alone again. No, this time he retreated to bide his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Leaving the hospital was difficult. You were still very much in pain and your daughter didn’t like the cold. She was thankfully a pretty quiet baby who cried only when she was hungry. Still, the first week home was horrible. You were up all night coddling your daughter and your stitches healed slowly, still leaking blood sluggishly. She wanted to be fed all the time and you were scared she was going to chew your nipples off with her enthusiasm. 

You were out of resources. Diapers were running low and your fridge was bare. Going out into the world with a newborn strapped to your chest and looking like you hadn’t showered in a week was the last thing you wanted to do, but you sucked it up and did it anyway. However, when you opened your front door, your daughter drooling on your shoulder, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There, slightly sagging on your doormat, was a brown paper bag filled to the brim with groceries. A large pack of Pampers, a new pacifier, piles of frozen dinners, baby food, and some fresh fruit. Just about everything you needed to get from the store was sitting on your doorstep, innocuously slumped against the wall. Deep down, you knew who left it there. You didn’t have any family in the area and you weren’t close enough to anyone to call them a friend. That meant there was only one person who was insane enough to track you down and leave groceries on your doorstep.

A large part of you wanted to kick it aside and go out and buy it yourself. Your pride almost didn’t let you accept help, especially from the person who was partially responsible for the state that you were in. But your daughter’s little fist curling around a piece of your hair was your undoing. No matter how much it hurt, you leaned down and picked up the bag, because regardless of how it made you feel, you were low on money, energy, and resources and every little thing counts.

Sadly, that was not the first time you had to begrudgingly accept Simon’s help. A car full of gas, packets of medicine and vitamins, and once, an entire baby blanket. The gestures slowly chipped away at your heart, but the fact remained that if Simon really wanted to be involved, he had your number and knew where you lived. A knock on the door or even a simple text would have shown he cared more. You seethed silently as you covered your daughter in the blanket that he dropped off, getting angrier the more you thought about it. Your job, no matter how shit, gave you paid maternity leave, so you could afford all this stuff. You had a car to take you to the grocery store. No, the biggest problem you had -  your greatest lack - was loneliness.

A/N: This is only the second piece of writing I have ever posted and I thank you for all the love you showed my first one. I am truly grateful.

[goobstars]

hi!! Love the blueberry theme, it's rlly cute :3 could you do a fic where caine sends them all on a beach adventure, and jax is kinda flustered and stares at reader the whole time? I thinks it'd be cute, feel free to decline <3

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

summary : beach adventure, but instead of paying attention to the waves, jax is only paying attention to you.

tags : romance, censored profanity, and jax is in a swimsuit. yes, that is in the tags, it must be tagged.

note : i'm aware i posted this after i removed my blueberry theme, but thank you, and i hope you enjoy!

everyone had been to the digital lake, but this was ten times better than that.

the sight of the beach was enough to make everyone excited, and the sound of the waves hitting the shore only made that thrill grow.

according to caine, he had overheard someone—zooble—complain about the digital lake and how they preferred a beach given how it had sand. yet, all caine heard was that the digital lake wasn't mature enough for them, and that led to a beach adventure.

oddly enough, there were no strings attached to this adventure. he informed you all about how there would be no monsters or anything like that—just beach time fun for everyone.

and everyone made sure to take advantage of that knowledge.

gangle and zooble were sitting on a towel while drawing stuff in the sand with sticks, ragatha and pomni were building a sandcastle, and kinger was standing in the water while little fish swam around him.

and what was jax doing?

he was still debating on what he wanted to do.

there were so many possibilites. he could kick gangle's sand drawing, he could steal zooble's parts and bury her in the sand, he could throw ragatha in the water, and who knew what else he could accomplish during this adventure?

maybe he'd even find a crab to stick in ragatha's hair.

he stuck his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks, and he looked around as he attempted to decide on what to do first. he wouldn't ruin gangle's drawing until it looked like she was almost finished with it, and he had to wait to steal zooble's parts when they were clearly distracted.

what if he kicked down ragatha and pomni's sandcastle?

he peered over at the two, and a slight frown crossed his face once he noted how they had barely even started. it was just a blob of sand. he couldn't even put a crab in ragatha's hair because then she'd freak out and leave the sandcastle as the blob it is.

pomni looked like the type who didn't know how to build a sandcastle, so he wasn't going to leave her to fix their mess of a build.

the only person left was kinger, but when he turned to face the chess piece, he noted how you were present now as well.

didn't you say you were going to explore the island? at least, that's what ragatha had told jax when he questioned where you were earlier.

jax's eyes flickered across your form, and he paused for a moment. why was he staring at you? everyone else was wearing a swimsuit, too, so it didn't make sense as to why his attention was frozen on you.

despite his thoughts, his gaze didn't leave you. he only continued to watch as you pointed at random fish that were swimming around kinger, and you reached down into the water as you picked something up.

your hands were pulled out of the sea as you proudly showed off a tiny crab, and the creature slightly moved around in your palm while it held up its claws. kinger tilted his head at it before holding out his hand, but the crab only pinched it while kinger let out a scream. he started running around with the grab still attached to his hand before he belly flopped into the water, and your laughter echoed through the beach while you stared at kinger.

your eyes were gleaming with joy while your smile was practically beaming—you were beaming—and jax felt his chest tighten at the sight.

that was until he noticed you looking his way.

his face grew hot as you raised an eyebrow at him, and you gifted him a wave before jax hastily looked away.

he heard you call out for him as he started to walk away, but he only ignored you. he didn't expect to get caught, and he had no excuse to give you as to why he was staring. usually, he would've had an excuse ready, but he didn't this time. it confused him.

the sand shifted underneath his feet while he looked around for something to distract himself, and once he noted that zooble and gangle weren't far, he headed straight towards there.

he stepped on top of gangle's drawing with a grin while gangle frowned at the sight, and zooble narrowed their eyes at him.

"what's your deal?" zooble questioned while jax stopped, and gangle let out a sad noise once he slowly turned his feet in the sand to face them both.

he only stared at zooble before yanking the stick out of gangle's hand, and he threw it away. the girl quickly got up from the towel to go retrieve it, and jax took the opportunity to grab the end of the towel before lunging at zooble.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" they screamed while jax wrapped them up, and he picked them up as he shrugged. "relax, zoobie! i'm just having fun! i forgot you hate fun..."

and with zooble trapped in the towel, it gave jax time to dig a hole.

the sun had started to set by the time he had successfully dug the whole, place zooble inside, and put the sand back on top of them. their head was still poking out as they shouted at jax, but he just hummed lightly as he patted the sand.

"all done! pretty comfy, right?" he smirked once zooble shot him a glare, "get me out of here."

"not even a please?"

"now, jax."

"i was going to, but now that you're being mean, i think i'm just going to leave you here for a bit." jax stood up from the sand before dusting himself off, and he hummed to himself before starting to walk off. "YOU F*$%*&^—"

zooble's shouts were ignored as jax continued to walk off, and while he was walking, he decided to look around.

ragatha and pomni were still working on their sandcastle, and it looked decent. it was better than the blob they had before. as he passed by them, he decided not to kick it over. it wouldn't be much fun given how small it was.

jax assumed that gangle had gone to try and free zooble once he didn't see her, and he noted how kinger was still face down in the water. the question as to whether he had drowned or not flickered in jax's mind until kinger lifted his head, "I SAW A TURTLE!"

the shout echoed for a second before kinger shoved his head back in the water, and jax just shrugged as he stopped walking.

now, where were you?

earlier when he was burying zooble, you were still with kinger, and he knew that for a fact. he kept peering over his shoulder and moving around on the sand so he could glance at you.

but you had seemingly vanished, or so he thought until he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"why have you been staring at me?"

the sound of your voice filled jax's ears while he slightly turned around to face you, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trunks. "because i have eyes, dollface, that's what they do. stare."

it wasn't his best line, but it worked.

the tight feeling in his chest from earlier reappeared as his eyes rested on yours, and he hated it. he hated every second of this.

why were you making him act like this? feel like this? the feelings were light before, but ever since this adventure started, they worsened, along with his ability to hide them.

"you know what i meant," you responded, and jax only smirked as he fully faced you. "do i?"

your frown only made his smirk slightly falter while his eyes flickered across your face, and he let out a quiet sigh. he noted the way the sunset lit up your face perfectly, and despite your obvious irritation, your eyes still held that gleam he constantly found himself looking for.

"what are you doing to me...?" he mumbled, and while he didn't intend for you to hear, you did. "what do you mean?"

"you know what i mean."

as soon as you fell silent, he regretted his words. he should've stayed silent, but he didn't. he just had to say something, didn't he?

but once he heard you let out a quiet laugh, his face flushed out of embarrassment. "i can't tell if you're flirting with me or not," you stated as you tilted your head. "are you?"

jax's expression was enough to give you your answer.

his eyes slightly widened before he let out a scoff, "no—why would i be flirting with you? that's weird."

despite his words, it was obvious he didn't mean them. he was attempting to deny your question, and you smiled at the way his sentences appeared rushed. "you're cute when you're nervous."

he paused once you complimented him, and the flush on his face grew deeper before he walked passed you.

"where are you going?" you questioned, and you watched as he stood next to kinger before flopping down into the water next to him.

the reason as to why he did that?

because he didn't want you to see the grin that had formed on his face due to your words.

[peasack]

Thought this was a wholesome and cute idea so I wrote it out.

Enjoy!!!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

~ 750ish words~

✦ Late night grilled cheese ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

The kitchen glowed with warm light. It was past midnight, and the world outside was a quiet blur of crickets and distant traffic, the kind of silence that made your thoughts echo too loudly in your head.

You weren’t planning on staying up. You just wanted some water. Something to cool the burn in your chest from thoughts you didn’t want to think. But the moment you walked in, your tired eyes caught them, Bob, sitting on a barstool at the counter, and John standing over the stove, spatula in hand, flipping a grilled cheese like it was a sacred ritual.

The smell hit you instantly. Golden-buttered bread. Melted cheese. A hint of garlic from the butter John always seasoned just right.

Bob looked up first, his brown eyes soft under the kitchen light. He smiled softly before talking “Couldn’t sleep?”

You moved toward the cabinet, grabbed a glass. “Yeah.”

John didn’t look away from the pan, but he greeted you like he knew you’d be coming “Join the club.”

The sink gurgled quietly as you filled the glass. You sipped once, then leaned back against the counter across from them, fingers curled around the cool glass. You didn’t talk. Neither did they. Just the occasional soft sizzle from the stove filled the air.

And then John, without asking, without saying a word, pulled out a third slice of bread from the bag, stacked the cheese like he always did when he cooked for the team, and tossed it onto the skillet.

He didn’t look at you. Just said, “You’re not walking out of here without a sandwich. Kitchen rules.”

You didn’t argue.

A few minutes passed, quiet and soft and almost normal. Then John plated two sandwiches, cut diagonally, obviously, and passed one across the counter to you before sliding the other in front of Bob.

You took it. Sat down on the stool next to Bob. Your fingers felt steadier with the warmth of the bread seeping into your skin.

It was Bob who finally broke the silence. “Nightmares?”

You nodded slowly. “Not the kind you can wake up from.”

He hummed, something knowing in it. “Those are the worst kind.”

John didn’t say anything right away. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed now, his gaze a little distant. You picked at the edge of the sandwich. Ate a bite. Let it anchor you.

“Sometimes,” you said quietly, “I think sleep just makes the walls go down too far. And then all the stuff I’m good at ignoring just shows up. Like it’s waiting.”

“Yeah,” Bob said, voice gentle. “Like it knows you’re too tired to fight it.”

You didn’t expect to say the next thing. Maybe it was the warmth. The quiet. The safety of the kitchen at 2 a.m. “I think I’m scared of myself sometimes. Of the stuff I’ve felt and done and buried. I don’t wanna dig it up, but it keeps scratching at the surface.”

Neither of them tried to fix it.

John moved slowly, sitting on the other stool, sandwich long forgotten. “You ever feel like... if you stop holding everything in for even a second, it’s all just gonna spill out and drown the room?”

Your gaze flicked toward him, surprised. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

Bob said nothing, but you could feel it in the way his shoulders relaxed a little. The understanding in his silence.

John leaned back a little, a flicker of something old and worn-down in his eyes. “There was this kid. Private First Class Tanner. He was nineteen. Barely made it through basic. Skinny as hell. Couldn’t keep his rifle straight. But he had this laugh, man. Like the world hadn’t broken him yet.”

You watched him, blinking slowly. He wasn’t telling this for sympathy. Just to say it out loud. To give it weight.

“He used to sneak candy bars into our rations. Share ‘em with everyone. Thought it made things better, even if it was just a bite.” He exhaled through his nose. “We lost him in a desert I don’t remember the name of. Didn’t even have a body to bring back.”

The kitchen stayed quiet. Your sandwich forgotten in your lap now, half-eaten and warm.

“I still hear him sometimes. When it’s late and too quiet. That laugh.” John rubbed the back of his neck. “Grief’s weird. It doesn’t always hurt. Sometimes it just... lingers. Shows up in the stupidest places. A grilled cheese sandwich. An empty hallway.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything. You just let it sit there. The story. The silence.

And then, gently, you leaned your head against the counter, cheek resting on your arms. The sandwich was still in your lap, but your eyes were getting heavy. The water, the food, the talking, it had peeled something sharp off your chest.

John glanced over, seeing your breathing slow.

“They out?” he murmured.

Bob nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He stood and grabbed a nearby throw blanket from the living room, draping it over your shoulders without waking you. “Let them sleep there. We’ll keep watch.”

And they did.

John cleaned the pans. Bob sipped what was now cold coffee. The kitchen stayed softly lit, the three of you sharing a quiet peace, a supernatural being, a super soldier, and a (super?) kid, tethered to each other by broken pieces that somehow made the night feel whole again.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Had to give some form of trauma bonding one-shot to yall, hope you enjoyed!!!

[wonbyyou]

hii I love ur work may I request something for jay? Maybe some angsty stuff like an argument and then him apologising or wtv you'd like in angst!

<3

Hope its not too much thank youu

hey anon, thank you for your ask and don't worry at all, it's never too much, you can send as many asks as you like, i'd love to write them all. it's such a great prompt plus, i haven't written angst before so it was very fun writing this piece. i hope you'll enjoy it.

for @onlyywwon

-

The muffled roar of the departing crowd outside was a dull counterpoint to the silence crackling between you and Jay. He slumped on a worn couch, damp hair plastered to his forehead from the encore, a half-empty bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

His stage clothes—black jeans and a threadbare band tee soaked with sweat incongruous against the cheap velvet. You stood near the door, your overnight bag already slung over your shoulder, the weight of disappointment heavier than the luggage.

"You cancelled again, Jay," you stated, your voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth reserved for him. It was the third time this month.

"Dinner. Reservations I made weeks ago. You said soundcheck ran late, then the promoter needed you, then…" You trailed off, the excuses tasting like ash. "You didn't even call. Just a text. 'Can't make it. Tour stuff.'"

Jay rubbed his eyes, exhaustion etching deep lines around them. "It was tour stuff, babe," he mumbled, his voice raspy from singing. "The label rep showed up unannounced. Had to schmooze. You know how it is." He gestured vaguely towards the door, towards the fading noise of his adoring fans. "This… it takes everything right now."

"Everything except me," you shot back, the dam breaking. The cool detachment vanished, replaced by a sharp, aching hurt. "That's what it feels like, Jay. Like I'm the last item on a checklist you never get to. You blow into town for 48 hours, sleep most of it, play the show, and then…" You swallowed hard. "You barely look at me. Barely talk to me."

He looked up, a flicker of defensiveness in his tired eyes. "That's not true. I'm just… wiped. You saw the show. That energy's gotta come from somewhere."

"And where does my energy go, Jay?" Your voice cracked. "Waiting? Hoping? Planning things you cancel? Feeling like a groupie you occasionally sleep with?" The accusation hung heavy. "I saw you tonight. After the set. Laughing with that photographer, Liv. Leaning in close, whispering jokes. You had plenty of energy for her."

Jay's head snapped up, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by indignation. "Liv? She's taking promo shots! It's work! Jesus, are you seriously jealous of work?"

"It's not jealousy!" you fired back, stepping closer, the air thick with unshed tears and frustration. "It's evidence! Evidence that you can engage, you can be present… just not with me. Not anymore. You give your best to the crowd, to the band, to the label reps, to the damn photographer… and I get the exhausted scraps."

You grabbed the strap of your bag tighter, knuckles white. "I feel invisible, Jay. Like I'm just… background noise to your main event."

He pushed himself off the couch, swaying slightly. "That's bull, you know what I'm building! This band… it's finally happening! It's for us!"

"For you, Jay!" you countered, your voice rising. "It's always been for you! Your dream, your schedule, your exhaustion! Where's us in that? Where's the us that existed before the tour bus became your whole world?" Tears finally spilled over, hot and humiliating. "I can't keep living on crumbs of your attention and then watch you light up for everyone else. I need more."

You turned towards the door, the cheap metal handle cold under your trembling fingers. The roar of the departing crowd was almost gone now, leaving an oppressive silence.

"Fine!" Jay's voice ripped through the quiet, raw and ragged, fueled by exhaustion, guilt, and a sudden, terrifying panic. "If I'm such a fucking burden, if my dream is such an inconvenience, then maybe you should walk! Go find someone whose life isn't so damn demanding!" The words were meant to wound, a desperate lash-out from someone cornered by their own neglect.

The cruelty of it stole your breath. You didn't hesitate. You yanked the door open, the cacophony of roadies breaking down equipment hitting you like a physical blow.

You stepped out into the chaotic backstage corridor, the harsh fluorescent lights stinging your wet eyes. You took one step, then another, heading towards the exit sign, the weight of his words a crushing stone in your chest. The sound of your own choked sob echoed in your ears.

Then, footsteps—frantic, heavy—pounding the concrete floor behind you. A hand, calloused from guitar strings, shot out and grabbed your arm, not to pull you back roughly, but to anchor you, to stop your retreat. You whirled, ready to shove him away, but the sight stopped you cold.

All the defensive anger, the tour-bus bravado, was gone. His face was pale beneath the stage makeup smudged with sweat, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and filled with a raw, undisguised terror. He looked utterly shattered, the rockstar persona evaporated.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, his voice a broken whisper, rough from singing and now thick with remorse. His grip on your arm tightened almost imperceptibly, a plea. "God, I'm so sorry. That was… vile. I didn't mean it. Not a word." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're right. I've been… gone. Even when I'm here, I'm gone. Lost in this… this fucking machine."

He gestured helplessly back towards the green room, the symbol of everything consuming him. "I see you waiting. I feel you pulling away… and I just get scared, so I bury myself deeper in the noise." His thumb brushed over your wrist, a tentative, desperate touch. "Don't go. Please. I'll… I'll cancel the damn acoustic tour next week. I'll make time. Real time. Just… please."

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the apology hanging fragile and absolute in the grimy, chaotic air, the roar of the departing crowd finally silenced, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing.

His hand on your arm felt like a brand, burning with the ghost of every missed dinner, every half-asleep conversation, every time you’d watched him laugh easily with someone else while you felt like a stranger in your own relationship.

His eyes, wide with raw panic and slick with tears mixed with stage sweat and rainwater, searched yours desperately. The offer hung there—I'll cancel the damn acoustic tour next week—but it landed like a stone in stagnant water.

It wasn't about next week. It wasn't about cancelling one thing. It was about the thousand little cancellations of you that had already happened. The way your shared dream had become solely his, leaving you standing on the periphery, waving from the shore as his tour bus pulled away, again and again.

You looked at his hand on your arm, then slowly, deliberately, you lifted your other hand. Not to touch him, but to gently, firmly, peel his fingers away. Your touch was cool, final. The warmth of his skin against yours, once your sanctuary, now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping through your fingers.

"No, Jay," you said, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor deep in your chest. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the backstage clatter and his ragged breathing like a knife. It held no anger now, only a bone-deep weariness, a profound, aching sadness.

"Cancelling the tour won't fix this. It won't give us back the time that's already gone. It won't make me forget how it feels to be... an afterthought."

You saw the hope die in his eyes, replaced by a dawning horror as he truly understood you weren't bargaining, weren't waiting for a grand gesture. You were stating a fact.

"It's too late," you whispered, the words catching on the sob building in your throat. You took a deliberate step back, putting precious, irrevocable space between you. Your hand found the cold metal of the exit door push bar. "For us. It’s just… too late."

You didn't wait for another plea, another broken promise. You pushed the door open. The chaotic noise of load-out—the clang of equipment cases, the shouted instructions of roadies—surged in, a stark, indifferent counterpoint to the silent devastation in the corridor behind you. You didn't look back. You walked straight into the chaos, weaving through the cables and flight cases like a ghost, heading for the cool night air outside the venue's service entrance.

The moment the heavy metal door swung shut behind you, cutting off the noise and the sight of him standing broken in the corridor, the dam burst. A ragged sob tore from your throat, loud and ugly in the quiet alley.

Tears, hot and relentless, streamed down your face, blurring the harsh glare of the security lights. You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking violently, to call a ride. The cold night air bit through your thin jacket, but it was nothing compared to the icy void opening up inside your chest.

The taxi ride home was a blur of streaking city lights and stifled cries. You pressed your forehead against the cool window, shoulders shaking, trying to muffle the sounds escaping you. The driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror but said nothing. Every red light felt like an eternity, each one a fresh wave of crushing grief.

You saw Jay’s shattered expression every time you closed your eyes—the panic, the tears, the desperate grasp on your arm. You heard his ragged apology, his offer to cancel… and your own quiet, devastating pronouncement: It’s too late.

Unlocking your apartment door felt like entering a tomb. The silence inside was oppressive, heavy with the absence of him. No discarded guitar picks on the coffee table. No familiar scent of his cologne lingering.

Just… emptiness. You dropped your bag, the sound echoing in the stillness, and sank to your knees right there in the entryway. The sobs came harder now, wracking your whole body, great heaving gasps that left you breathless and aching. You curled in on yourself, arms wrapped tight around your middle, as if you could physically hold the broken pieces together.

Too late. The words echoed in the hollow space, bouncing off the walls of your grief. It wasn't just about tonight's fight or the cancelled dinners. It was about the slow, insidious erosion of you within the relationship. The way you'd shrunk yourself to fit the margins of his demanding life.

The way the vibrant connection you'd once shared had faded into static, drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the relentless grind of the tour bus engine. You’d tried. God, how you’d tried to be understanding, supportive, patient.

But patience had curdled into resentment, understanding into invisibility. The love was still there, a raw, bleeding wound, but the foundation it was built on—mutual presence, shared attention, simple time—had crumbled to dust.

He’d seen you walking away. He’d chased you. He’d apologized. But the chasm was too wide, the neglect too deep. Fixing it would require a fundamental shift, a dismantling of the very thing driving him—the band, the success, the dream.

And you knew, with a certainty that felt like a death knell, that even if he tried, the resentment would fester. His dream had cost you yours—the dream of us. And that cost was simply too high. You cried until your throat was raw and your eyes burned, kneeling on the cold floor of your empty apartment, the silence broken only by your ragged breaths and the crushing, undeniable truth: it was over. The tour bus was moving on, and you were finally, irrevocably, left behind.

The deep, velvet blackness of night pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating. Sleep, when it finally came after hours of crying curled on the cold floor, was thin and haunted.

You drifted in a fog of exhaustion, the phantom ache in your chest a constant companion. Then, a shift in the air. The faintest creak of the bedroom door. Soft footsteps crossing the carpet. The mattress dipped beside you, the cool sheets rustling.

You didn’t startle. Didn’t panic. Some deep, instinctual part of you recognized the rhythm of his breathing, the familiar scent of him beneath the lingering traces of stale smoke and stage sweat—a scent woven into the very fabric of your memory.

Jay.

He slipped beneath the duvet silently, his movements hesitant, almost reverent.

Then, strong arms slid around you, pulling you back gently against the solid warmth of his chest. His forehead pressed against the nape of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. The dam you’d barely managed to shore up crumbled instantly. A fresh wave of silent tears soaked your pillow.

Slowly, painfully, you turned in his embrace. The faint moonlight filtering through the blinds caught the tear tracks gleaming on his face. His eyes, usually so bright with charm or fierce with stage energy, were red-rimmed, swollen, and swimming in raw, liquid sorrow.

He looked utterly wrecked, the confident singer stripped bare, leaving only a man drowning in regret. Seeing him cry, really cry, tore at something deep inside you.

He lifted a trembling hand, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear trailing down your cheek. His touch was infinitely gentle, a stark contrast to the desperate grip backstage.

"I know… I know I don’t deserve to be here. Shouldn't have come in without…" He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in the dim light. "But I couldn't… God, I couldn't stay away. Not after…" His voice hitched, breaking completely. He buried his face against your shoulder for a moment, his shoulders shaking with the effort of containing his own sobs. When he lifted his head, his eyes held yours with a desperate intensity.

"I was wrong," he whispered, the words heavy, carved from guilt. "So damn wrong. Every word I said… every accusation… it was poison. Lies I told myself because I was too chickenshit to face what I was doing to you."

His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline with aching tenderness. "I took you for granted. Like you were… something that'd always just be there. My anchor. My safe harbor. And I…" He choked, fresh tears welling and spilling over. "I treated you like background noise. Like something that could wait. While I chased something shiny and loud." He shook his head, the movement frantic.

"I missed dinners. I cancelled plans. And when I was here…" His voice dropped to a shattered whisper. "I wasn't here. My head was still on the bus, on the stage, on the next damn thing. I wasn't giving you me. Just… the tired leftovers."

He took a ragged breath, pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'd vanish. "I saw it," he confessed, his voice thick with self-loathing.

"I saw you pulling away. Fading. And instead of fighting for you, I got defensive. Angry. Blamed you. Because it was easier than admitting I was failing you. Failing us." He pressed his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours on your cheeks.

"I let the best part of my whole damn world slip through my fingers because I was too blind, too selfish, to see what I had right in front of me until you were walking out that door."

He paused, the silence heavy with the weight of his confession. His dark eyes, still swimming, held yours with unwavering sincerity, stripped of all pretense, all rockstar bravado.

"I love you," he breathed, the words raw and profound. "More than the roar of any crowd. More than any stage. More than this whole damn dream. It ain't worth a thing without you beside me." His thumb brushed your lips softly.

"I swear to you, on everything I am, I won't do it again. I won't take a single second with you for granted. I'll be here. Present. Every damn time. I'll cancel whatever I gotta cancel. Rearrange whatever needs rearrangin'. The band…" He swallowed again, the words costing him, but he meant them.

"I'm nothing without you. Please…" His voice cracked, a broken plea. "Please give me a chance to prove it. To be the man you deserve. I can't… I can't lose you. Don't make me live in a world where I drove you away."

The raw vulnerability in his voice, the utter devastation on his tear-streaked face, the desperate sincerity in his promises—it shattered the last of your defenses. The love you thought was buried under layers of hurt and neglect surged forward, potent and undeniable.

You saw not the neglectful singer, but the man you’d fallen for, broken and pleading for redemption. You didn't want a world without him either.

Slowly, tremblingly, you lifted your hand, mirroring his gesture, cupping his stubbled cheek. His skin was warm, damp with tears beneath your palm. You leaned in, closing the scant distance between you.

Your lips met his—not with fiery passion, but with a profound tenderness, a desperate affirmation. A silent acceptance of his apology, a promise of your own. A mingling of salt from both your tears, a sealing of the fractured space between you.

His arms tightened convulsively around you, pulling you flush against him, a shuddering breath escaping him as he returned the kiss with equal parts desperation and reverence. It was a kiss born of shared grief, profound remorse, and the fierce, unyielding determination not to let go.

His body, warm and solid against yours, felt like both an anchor and a lifeline.

The desperate kiss sealing his apology had settled into a fragile truce, but a deeper hunger stirred—a need for tangible proof, for skin-on-skin absolution. You shifted, turning fully into the shelter of his arms. Moonlight caught the lingering dampness on his lashes, the profound remorse etched beside the fierce devotion in his dark eyes.

Your thumb traced the rough line of his jaw, feeling the tremor beneath your touch. "Jay," you breathed, your voice husky, thick with a yearning that went beyond mere desire. "Make love to me. Show me you're really here. All of you."

His breath hitched, a ragged intake of air. He searched your eyes, seeing the lingering shadows of hurt beneath the desperate hope.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. "Always. Only ever for you." He didn’t pounce; he approached you like sacred ground. His lips met yours in a kiss that was achingly soft, a slow exploration laced with reverence. His calloused hand, familiar and beloved, slid down your side with infinite care, pushing up the thin cotton of your sleep shirt.

Each inch of skin revealed was met with the brush of his lips—your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the swell of your breast.

His hand journeyed lower, skimming your hip, coming to rest on the bare skin of your inner thigh. His touch was a question whispered against your pulse point. You arched silently, a sigh escaping as his fingers found the damp heat of you through your panties. He palmed you gently, a slow, circling pressure that made your hips lift. "So ready," he breathed, nuzzling your neck.

"Soaking for me already?" With agonizing tenderness, he hooked a finger under the elastic, easing the fabric down, his eyes holding yours captive. Cool air kissed your core, but his touch returned instantly, sliding through slick folds with a reverence that stole your breath. He groaned, gathering your wetness. "My sweet girl. Always so sweet for me."

He took infinite time opening you. One thick finger traced your entrance, circling maddeningly before sinking in with exquisite slowness. The stretch was profound, a deep filling ache that drew a gasp from your lips. He watched your face intently, his thumb finding your clit with feather-light precision.

"That's it," he soothed, his voice low and hypnotic. "Just let go, baby. Let me love you like you deserve." He worked you open with one finger, then two, each shallow thrust deeper, each twist deliberate, building the sweet tension strand by strand.

His whispers were a constant benediction: "Never rushing you again… gonna learn every inch… worship this perfect pussy every damn day… always present for you… always…" By the time he withdrew, you were trembling, open and slick, aching for the fullness only he could give.

Shedding his clothes was a quiet, focused act. His cock, heavy and hard, nudged against your thigh. He positioned himself between your legs, bracing on his forearms, cradling you.

The broad head pressed against your entrance, slick with your arousal. He pressed forward with infinite slowness, letting you feel every ridge, every thick inch as he stretched you, filled you, reclaimed the space that was uniquely his.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he commanded softly, his voice strained with restraint. "Look at me while I love you." You drowned in the depths of his gaze—love, remorse, adoration swirling in the moonlight.

He sank deeper, deeper, until fully seated with a groan that vibrated through both of you. "God… yes," he gasped, forehead dropping to yours. "This is home."

He began to move. Not fast, not hard, but with a deep, rolling cadence that felt like a vow written on your skin. Slow, deliberate thrusts dragged his length against every sensitive place inside you, each withdrawal an exquisite emptiness, each return a profound relief.

His hips moved with a gentle power, his body blanketing yours. He kissed you deeply, his tongue mirroring the languid push of his cock. His hands roamed—cupping a breast, thumb grazing a taut nipple, gripping your hip to anchor you closer. "Never taking this for granted," he whispered against your mouth. "Never making you feel second best… right here with you… feeling every tremble… every sigh… you're everything… everything…"

The pleasure built like dawn breaking—slow, golden warmth spreading from your core outward. You clung to him, legs locked around his waist, meeting each deep stroke with a roll of your hips.

The intimacy was staggering—shared breath, shared skin, shared heartbeat. As the coil inside you tightened unbearably, as the slow burn ignited into white-hot need, the words tore from you, raw and true, gasped against his lips: "I love you, Jay… Oh God… I love you…"

Hearing it, feeling your body clench fiercely around him as you confessed it, shattered his control. His rhythm faltered, then surged deeper. His eyes locked on yours, wide and burning with intense emotion as his own climax seized him.

"I love you!" he cried out, the words ripped from his soul, rough and fervent as his hips drove into you one final, deep time. "I love you so damn much… almost lost you… love you… love you…" His body shuddered violently against yours as he pulsed deep within you, spilling with a heat that felt like a molten seal on his desperate vow.

He collapsed onto you, his weight a grounding comfort, his face buried in your neck, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your damp skin.

He didn't pull away; he held you impossibly closer, still buried deep inside the warm clasp of your body. The silence was thick with the aftermath—the slowing thunder of hearts, the mingled scent of sex and salt tears, the profound sense of a rift finally bridged.

"I'm here," he whispered hoarsely against your ear after long moments, his voice thick with unshed tears and absolute conviction. "Not leavin'. Not ever again. You're my world." He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes glistening as they met yours. "I love you," he repeated, softer now, but no less fierce.

"I love you too," you murmured back, the truth of it settling deep into your bones. You kissed him softly, sealing the words, sealing the promise in the quiet aftermath. Tangled together, sweat-slicked and breathing as one, the ghost of neglect dissolved entirely.

Only this remained: the solid warmth of him inside and around you, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the profound, unshakeable certainty echoed in their shared whispers—I love you. The tour bus was silent. The only destination that mattered was right here.

[zepskies]

Ahahaaa I love it!! Definitely need to buckle in for this one - it's wild ride for more than one reason lmaooo 🙀

This was soooo good! Pure poetry, friend! Brava 😍👏❤️‍🔥

ehehe thank you, lovely! Coming from you, that's big praise. 🥰🥰 (Also was debating like, how many metaphors for this is too many? Trying to be more creative with the smut writing 🤣)

Not the soap drop 🤣

*snorts* admittedly was a bit cliché and a little mean, but I couldn't resist 😂😂

I’m watching you…

😘

I’m reading up 😭😭😭 I’m happy he gets to say it to her again, but at the same time, I hope it’s not inevitable if the last times 🥲

You know, I even debated whether he should admit it yet, but for some reason it felt right. 🥹 Maybe because he knows he may not have as many opportunities to say it, and he's still reeling that she forgave him and is back in his life. ❤️‍🩹

Uh-huh, let’s do the fucking “second opinion stuff,” Mark?! How long does he think he can wait with this? 😅 And you raised an interesting point that I kept thinking throughout watching (and especially during that little fainting spell in 1x05) – how long does he think he’s gonna be okay enough to do this? At this point, it seems most likely he hopes to get shot because it’s be quicker 🙈

Right?! lmfao she's definitely going to bring that up again soon.

That's honestly what I keep thinking about. Until when does he think he can hide this from his team? And like we just saw in 1x05, how long until that happens while he's mid-mission, not just in a stairwell safe in home base. 😰 I think you're right - he'd rather just keep making reckless moves until he gets taken out on the job somehow, or at least try to finish this last mission.

Lol that poor man. Actually so curious where his story goes 👀

lol me too! He was thwarted in 1x05, but I don't think we've seen the last of him 😂

Yup!!! But I fear Rachel is too far gone and you can’t help someone if they don’t wanna be helped 🤷‍♀️

It's quite possible! But maybe by the end of this one she'll get some clarity on a few things lmao

Of fucking course! God, I hate that woman so much 🤮😂

hahaaa right? She's a lot (too much) 🤣🤣

I loved how reader instantly tore into Rachel! I was cheering her on throughout 😂👏👏👏

When she said "on sight," she truly meant on sight! 😝 Their problems go back way past Mark, unfortunately, so it was like popping the cork open on years of resentment on both sides 😅

Haha his road rage stood out to me, too. Fuckstick 🤣🤣

💯💯 lmfaooo girl I had to put it back the first time because I was like, "he really said 'fuckstick'??" 😂😂😂 This man.

This whole bit had me rolling!! Loved how reader just really gave it to Rachel, and Mark just stood and watched 😂😂 But man, this girl deserved it, and you delivered. Thank you, Alex 😻😌🙌 (And it’s clear theres no coming back from this. I don’t even think Lisette likes Rachel 😂)

Ahaha I'm so glad you enjoyed the show! (we know Mark did.) 🤣🤣 Reader definitely went all in, and tbh I think Rachel deserved it too. Girl needed a reality check 🤣 (honestly no, Lisette is that sad, disappointed woman who just realized she created a monster lol.)

That cut so deeply and it’s so true 😭 Please don’t kill my heart with this series 🙏 (Slowly regretting sending you that song lmao)

Oof yeah, I think this is the part that justifies reader's rage the most. It's not just the fact that Rachel tried to steal her man/wreck her relationship, but the fact that reader and Mark lost precious time where they could've been already married, him getting treatment, etc.

Also I'm trying not to kill my own heart with that song inspo. 🤣🤣 Still trying to decide how big of an asshole Mark is gonna end up being in the next one 😅

Awww, such a callback to Downgrade! I loved this little tidbit between them and how it reminded him of her back then 😍🥹

omgg I'm so happy you caught that little tidbit!! 🥹 That's exactly what I was going for 💕

Oooh, I can’t wait to see where you take this! They tried to paint Valwell in a better light with what Bell said, but I’m still kinda sus of the man – asset or adversary? So I love that reader is in the middle of all of this (even if she doesn’t know it yet) 👀

Aww thank you!! Nah I think Valwell is skeevy tbh. Maybe he was a good prosecutor in his younger days, but he strikes me as getting more of an ego as the power got to him. Reader may or may not be about to find out how in the middle she is in the next part... 🫢

And I sound like a hypocrite after I told you about my angsty deadly Mark dreams, but please let that second opinion work out 😅🙏 Can’t wait for the next part, Alex!! 😍💙💜

Oh my God, Wayne you nearly killed me with that!! 😭 Please be gentle with my heart, friend, you know I'm delicate! 😂😂💙🩵

I'm so happy you're enjoying this little series! I'm genuinely having a lot of fun with it, like I know you're having fun with ATS. Right now I'm torn between going my own way and seeing what they do to end S1, but I guess we'll see in parts (and episodes) to come...

SISTER, SISTER

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: You and Mark have an emotional reconnection after he finally comes clean. But that also means you have some unfinished business to take care of with your sister, Rachel.

AN: Wrote this last week because I guess I can't stop myself! 😂 So yep, these Mark stories have officially become a series of one-shots called — ‘Til When Do Us Part. This one is also a gif check requested by my friend @lamentationsofalonelypotato for the 5K Follower Celebration. I think this is an important puzzle piece to explore after Catastrophic Blues. 😉

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: [Set during 1x02] 18+ only! Reunion smut, fluff, an epic cat fight (lol), angst, hurt/comfort

Series Masterlist

His hair dragged through your fingers again. First soft and loose, then gripped tight—desperate, hot tingles across your skin.

It was almost too much.

A halting moan fell from your lips, his biting kiss along your throat as he moved inside you.

“Fuck. Takin’ me better than ever, baby,” he said into your skin, his words gritted out and tinged with smoke and relief. “Gonna feel me for fuckin’ days at this rate.”

The sound of his voice reached deep into your bones. The safety of his arms caged you underneath him on his bed, the old mattress creaking with every test of the springs. He wrapped an arm around your thigh like curling steel, opening you up more for him, making his rolling thrusts hit deeper. Harder. A man possessed.

You gasped, your pussy already throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Your words were barely syllables, but they escaped you nonetheless. "Oh, fuck. Mark..."

He smirked into your neck. His lips trailed down to your shoulder and nipped harder with teeth, just to feel you writhe against him. You whimpered, your sensitive nipples brushing against his chest when you arched back up into him.

His hot breaths further ignited your skin. Your nails raked down the back of his neck and down his shoulder as you held on for the ride—an obscene squelching of wetness and hot breaths, skin against flushed skin. Your fingers pressed into every divot of muscle, as if you could sink right through his skin and make him feel you. Not for days. Forever.

You didn’t have words to speak. It was all in your eyes when they met his. Raw, vulnerable, glassy with pleasure, your breaths unsteady with emotion.

He pulled back a little, just so he could slip his hand between your bodies and find your slick, swollen clit again. He swept the pads of his fingers in the angles and rhythm he knew would serve you best in between his thrusts.

He swallowed your gasp of his name, your whimpers as you shuddered and came. A sensation like kaleidoscope colors, bursting like so many stars. You fucking squeezed him from the inside out for the third time tonight, finally forcing a ragged groan from his own lips as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered a shaky and powerful release.

You grabbed his face and poured your soul into that kiss, a wet and filthy meeting of lips and tongues.

Panting breaths forced their way through his nose, but he wouldn’t break that kiss for all the world. He finally had you back in his arms. He had the scent of your floral soap in his nose, your familiar sweetness on his tongue, your hair threaded through his fingers. He had it all.

It wasn’t the faded memories he clung to in a brick-and-mortal cell, or the daydreams of what if that had been torturing him whenever he saw a girl in a white dress, or a family sitting at dinner with their little kids in highchairs. 

It was you, solid and real.

Your kiss swollen lips dragged from his slowly, reluctantly, with shaky breaths in between.

He let your thighs slip down to rest more comfortably around his hips, but he didn't move just yet. He stayed buried deep inside you.

He brushed your frizzy hair away from your forehead, his eyes a little softer, less crazed. You sniffled as a tear rolled from the corner of your eye. He swept the wetness away with his thumb.

“I know it was good, but you don’t need to cry, sweetheart,” he teased lightly. There was a tender note in his voice though.

Your heart clenched to hear it. Part of you still couldn't believe this was real. Despite yourself, you laughed a little, breathless and boneless.

“I guess it’s just, um…it’s been a while.”

“Really? You haven’t, uh, been seeing anyone?” he asked, trying to hide the hope from his voice.

You snorted. “No.”

Plain and simple. He quirked a smile.

“And you?” you asked reluctantly, as if the answer wouldn't tear into you if he said any form of yes.

He almost laughed. “I was in lockup for nine months, remember?”

Relief allowed you to relax again. A smirk began to curve your lips as your fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his dewy arms.

“What, you didn’t get yourself a little boyfriend? No ‘drop the soap’ action?” you teased.

Mark’s jaw nearly unhinged. He stared down at you, disbelief and amusement warring for dominance at your cheek.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”

Your whole body shook in effort to contain your giggles, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh. Honestly, he should’ve expected nothing fucking less from you.

You were still kee-keeing when you caressed his bearded face with both hands, then twined your arms around his neck. But soon, you sobered up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… You had to live with those animals for almost a whole year. I can’t even imagine how deeply shitty that was. How scary,” you said.

Mark huffed, shaking his head. He rubbed your arm and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Heh. I was in hell long before I walked into Palmdale,” he said.

The confession slipped through his lips before he could think better of it, but there it was. Your expression fell even more. With a sigh, he stroked your cheek. Then he carefully withdrew, pulling out of your heat. You both felt the loss with soft groans.

He climbed out of bed just to grab a towel from his bathroom for the cleanup.

This was the first time you’d come to his place, just a couple of days since he took you home from that bar in Downtown. Two days since he came clean to you about what happened in Venice. Two days since you somehow found it in your heart to forgive him.

He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing with you. He hadn’t discussed it with you, hadn’t labelled it. It was almost as if you two had picked up from where you left off, except this time, there was an unknown expiration date.

That reminder literally hit him between the eyes. It forced him to pause in the bathroom and white-knuckle grip the edge of the sink. He grimaced and willed the pain away, stifling a grunt. Fuck...not even a moment's fucking peace.

"You okay?" your voice filtered over from the bedroom. Mark turned his face away from the mirror, just in case you could catch an angle of him.

"Yeah," he said, a little rougher. He breathed in deep, until the sharpest edges were passed. He padded back out and brought the dampened towel back to you.

It was late, but he still checked his phone on the nightstand for any missed notifications. He never knew when he might get called in by Blythe—another thing Mark couldn’t tell you about. He wondered if the taskforce was on your radar anyway, what with how D.A. Valwell was consistently trying to butt into their operations.

So far, you hadn’t mentioned anything weird going on with your boss in the office. Maybe Valwell was keeping you out of it. As he should.

You welcomed Mark back into bed and under the covers, luring him into a kiss as he settled in beside you. He drew you into his arms and couldn’t help but stare. He took in every contour of your face. Every shade of beauty.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Have I said that yet?”

A slight, sad smile twitched at your lips. Your heart pulsed sharply.

“What’s happening to you isn’t your fault. There’s no reason to be sorry,” you said.

“There is a reason,” he nodded. “I didn’t want to leave you twisting in the wind. I just…”

“I know,” you sighed. You watched his profile as he looked ahead, rather than at you directly. A deep breath ran through him, not altogether steady.

“I love you,” he said. He swallowed, jaw clenching. “Think it’s pretty obvious that I never stopped.”

You guided his face back toward you with a gentle hand on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over his lips.

“It’s become painfully clear to me,” you said, “that I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

Morning came, and you weren’t ready. You didn’t want to leave this house with its familiar smell and its gray-blue walls, which you and Mark painted together. After he inherited the house from his mother, who passed away a few years ago, you helped him clean and touch it up without losing the character of the house.

You were going to officially move in with him after you two got married and let go of your Downtown apartment that was close to your job, but often so empty. Obviously, that move never happened.

“You’re having dinner with your mom tonight, right?” Mark asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You finished tucking in your blouse into your skirt and began to fix your hair in his wardrobe mirror. You had to go into work, and so did he. He was buckling his belt over his jeans, already dressed in a dark green shirt and one of his favorite leather jackets—the black one you helped him pick out.

“Yeah, every Tuesday,” you nodded. You turned and reached for the edges of his jacket. “I know it’s your business to share, but…can I tell her about what you’re going through? That we’re back together? She would want to see you.”

Mark hesitated. “I’d like that too, but let's just keep this between you and me for now.”

You frowned. “I still can’t believe you haven’t told your precinct. How long do you plan to work like this? Mark, what if…what if something happens when you’re on the job? I mean medically.”

He couldn’t blame you for your worry and concern. He held you by your arms and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“You know I’m on a case right now. It’s important,” he said, trying to communicate the gravity of it through his eyes, the tone of his voice. “After that’s done…I don’t know. We’ll talk about it. That and the, uh, second opinion stuff.”

Despite your lingering worry, a small smile peeked through. “At least you said we.”

Mark flickered at a smile too. He bowed down to kiss you on the forehead, lingering there with a short sigh. Ever since he left you, he’d been operating with a reckless head and a worse heart. But if you were determined to stick this out with him, like you seemed to be, then it wasn’t just about him anymore.

He’d have to protect you too.

“Mmm, smells good, Mom,” you said, shutting the door of your childhood home behind you. Inside, the modest three-bedroom house was filled with the rich savory smell of something warm in the oven.

Your mom, Lisette, waved you over with her oven mitt hand. 

“Hey, honey. Come ‘ere and taste this.”

She took out a large glass pan filled with beef pot roast, complete with carrots, little yellow potatoes, and charred sprigs of rosemary on top.

“Wow, all that for just the two of us?” you asked, kissing her on the cheek. She just smiled and gave you a forkful after she blew on it first. You took the bite and fairly melted.

“Ughhh, so good. It’s been a long time since you made a whole…” You trailed off as you realized it.

Lisette’s smile turned bittersweet. “Yeah, it was your father’s favorite.”

She took off her oven mitts and left the pan to cool on the counter. She braced a few fingertips on the edge of that counter, as if her mind contained too many memories to sort through. You brushed a hand against her arm, earning her attention.

“Thanks. I brought dessert too,” you said, raising the grocery bag in your hand. You set that on the counter as well. You gave your mom a hug, warm and comforting.

Lisette sighed and hugged you back gratefully. She rubbed your back, like good moms did. But when she pulled back, she noted the smile on your face with a raised brow. It was genuine, not the fake ones you gave to pacify her. In fact, you looked more relaxed, more like yourself.

“You seem…”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. A little happier today, I guess,” she said. “Did something good happen at work?”

You huffed. “No. Valwell’s antsy and frustrated about something, but every time I ask what’s wrong, he tells me it’s fine. Nothing for me to worry about.”

Not to mention, he’d taken three long lunches at odd times in the past week alone. Every time he got back to the office, he seemed more agitated and upset, storming through the halls like they owed him rent money.

“Well, it’s probably above your clearance, honey,” said Lisette. “If he wanted you to know, he would tell you.”

You frowned thoughtfully, tapping a nail on the counter. Before you could think too hard on it, your mom subtly cleared her throat, the way she always did when she was a bit nervous. She busied herself with grabbing silverware for the dinner table. Your brows drew together.

“You grabbed three sets,” you pointed out.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “We’re going to be three today.”

“Who else is coming?”

Lisette hesitated, didn’t seem to want to meet your suspicious gaze. “Your sister. I invited her.”

Your face fell. Stony and incredulous.

“You did not.”

“I did. You two haven’t spoken in almost a year.”

“For good damn reason, Mom!”

“I know,” Lisette said, in a sharper voice than you expected. After a moment though, she softened. “I know. What she did to you…it’s frankly incomprehensible. But she’s still your sister. Your father would be sick to know you two are fighting like this.”

A harsh sigh fell from your lips. You rubbed your temples with both hands.

“We’re not fighting,” you said. “I’m just choosing to pretend I’m an only child.”

Lisette gave you a sad frown that spoke more volumes than her words could. You felt a stab of guilt for it, but you didn’t take it back. If you had to see that hateful bitch today, then you wouldn’t hold back this time. It would be on sight.

And…of fucking course.

As if on cue, there was a commotion at the front door. The lock began to turn and click. Then the door slid open, revealing Rachel with her key to the house poised in hand. She was a personal trainer and yoga instructor, so she was wearing her skin-tight Halara leggings (yes, the “TikTok Leggings”), along with a breezy crop top.

She had a chain-link purse strung over her shoulder and oversized sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, but you could still see her eyes widen when she caught sight of you, her steps stopping short in the doorway.

You stared right back at her. Your teeth clenched, like a train grinding against the tracks at a hard stop and shooting off sparks. Everything Mark told you two days ago came rushing through your mind—every unwanted touch, every disgusting, manipulative word she used to try and spin him into her web while he was at his worst.

“What—What’re you doing here?” she said, a frightened little deer caught in your trajectory.

You didn’t even answer. You couldn’t speak.

You just moved, rounding the kitchen counter and cutting through the dining room with a purpose. Rachel squeaked, and she scrambled to back out of the house the way she came in. She flung the door open and retreated.

You followed.

“I know what you really did, you lying, psycho bitch!” you hissed. Your voice carried and seemed to slap Rachel upside the head. She stopped on the stone walkway leading up to the house. She turned around, lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head, and she glared at you warily.

“What’re you talking about?” she shot back.

You laughed in disbelief. “Oh, don’t act dumb now. What you did to Mark isn’t just reprehensible. I should file a report and get you fucking arrested for being a vile cunt.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed. Her face screwed up in anger, so much that she strode back up the steps and slapped you across the cheek. Your head twisted to the side at the stinging blow. You even stumbled a little, but your shock gave way to a grim smile.

Can we say, self-defense?

Her face dawned with realization, just a bit too late. She didn’t even have the instincts to duck your punch.

“Goddamn it. Fucking move, people!” Mark muttered uselessly at the cars in front of him.

It had been a long damn day. It also looked like he and the team were heading to Mexico in the morning. Doing a drug run for Javi, a local cartel boss, would hopefully get them one step closer to finding out who he carried a shipment of goddamn fissile material for. They had to find out who was trying to orchestrate another 9/11 in California. 

Mark was on his way home, cutting through L.A. traffic the best he could during rush hour. His stomach was practically attacking his liver in hunger. He also wanted to see you before he left, hopefully for just a day or two.

Didn’t you say you were over at your mom’s for dinner? Damn, that woman could cook.

How many Sunday dinners had he spent with your family in the past five years? All those Christmases and Thanksgivings, birthdays, Fourth of Julys at the beach and Memorial Day backyard barbeques.

Your mom was a sweetheart, too. She always bought him gifts at Christmas, never forgot his birthday, always saved him a special cut of whatever she was cooking. Truth be told, she was like a second mother to him, especially after his mom passed.

Mark sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his head slowly fall back against the headrest. A warning flash of pain echoed through his skull, like a small oyster knife on the twist.

Fuck me.

It would be good to see Lisette—and be able to share another one of those meals with you too, however many of them he had left.

The traffic light finally turned green. Mark found himself changing lanes, then changing directions. Another twenty minutes had him pulling up to your family home on a quiet residential street.

Well, it was usually quiet.

“Aw, shit.” Was that Rachel out there on the driveway? What the hell was she doing here?

She was beelining up those cobblestone steps right for you. She threw you a slap so hard it snapped your head to the right, making your hair fly in your face.

“The fuck?!” His angry brows furrowing, Mark parked the car and unclipped his seatbelt quick, but when he next looked up, he caught sight of your swift left hook.

“God-damn,” he couldn’t help but laugh. As a man of the law, he knew he should've been stepping in right about now, but this opportunity was a little too satisfying to give up. He stayed where he sat to watch the show.

Rachel went down like a sack of shit.

And you didn’t waste no time. You pushed her the rest of the way down into the grassy front yard and got on top of her, pinning her arms behind her back and wedging your knee in her spine. Before she could swing back and headbutt you, you shoved her face into the grass.

Your dad taught you pretty damn well.

Rachel screamed and cried for help, but all it did was fuel your ire. You felt crazy and deranged, but you also felt alive too, for the first time in a long time.

Meanwhile, your mom watched in worry from the porch. Her protests weren’t strong enough to reach you though.

“Get off me, you fat ugly bitch!” Rachel screeched.

You saw a nice little brown pile the neighbor’s dog must’ve left this morning. It was just close enough for you to grab (unfortunately) with your bare hand. You pulled her head back by her hair and smeared dog shit all over her face—her cheeks, her forehead and chin. Her shrill screech reached new heights.

The neighbors could’ve been watching with shocked open mouths and iPhone cameras raised high, but you didn’t give even half of a fuck. You did quiet her down though, by shoving her face back into the dirt. The lawn was still nice and damp from the afternoon sprinklers.

“Yeah? You like that? Keep talking shit and I'll break your fake-ass nose, which I helped pay for!” you shouted. “I waited in that fucking lobby for hours while they hacked off the old one. I gave you cold compresses for your swollen, puffy lobster face. Now how about I snap that shit off like you’re Mr. fucking Potato Head?”

She cried as if you were killing her. Dramatic, as always. But eventually she stopped wriggling and thrashing so much, just shaking her head and sniveling. Realizing she wasn’t about to get out of this so easily, she switched tactics.

"Okay." She splayed her hands out the best she could behind her back in surrender. "Okay! Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!"

“Oh, yeah? You’re sorry? What’re you sorry for?” you asked.

"I already told you I fucked him! I fucked your fiancé!"

"No, but you tried to," you seethed. "You just couldn't, could you? Because he's a good man, and you're a lying slutbag. Isn't that right?"

Rachel tried to deny it, but the harder you shoved her shit-stained face into the wet dirt, the more she coughed and spluttered. You eased up just enough for her to nod her head, lips trembling.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end up so bad,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just let me go—”

Tears began to sting in your own eyes. “Do you know what you actually stole from me?”

Your breaths shook, along with the inner most depths of your soul. You bent closer to her ear.

“Time. That’s what you took from us,” you said, a coarse whisper. “Time we’ll never get back.”

Rachel continued to cry pitiful tears. You almost, almost started to feel bad for her.

But then, you didn’t. Too many memories were rising to the surface.

“Why’d you do it, huh? Danny Mendez wasn’t enough for you?” you said. “Oh yeah, you remember him, back in high school. You made out with my boyfriend the night of my senior prom, bitch!”

Oh yeah, that was a fun little memory to unlock from the brain bank. You realized now that it established a pattern of behavior, one you still couldn't completely understand. It hurt your heart.

“Why?” you demanded through blurry tears. “Why do you hate me so damn much?”

“Because!” she yelled. Her own tears had mixed with the shit smears on her face. Her lips wobbled. “Everyone thinks you’re so fucking perfect! Mom…Dad…he practically worshipped you.”

Your brows knitted together. “No, he didn’t. What the hell are you talking about? He rode my ass all the time! Way harder than he ever did to you.”

Your dad had been a good man, but he'd also been a fucking hardass. A former marine turned LAPD, from officer to Homicide Detective, and finally Captain. In typical firstborn syndrome fashion, you took on the brunt of his expectations, and even resented him for it at times. But you eventually saw the wisdom and the work ethic he was trying to instill in you.

Then again, it would’ve been better for everyone if he had paid closer attention to Rachel. She had been a wild child who even you had a hard time corralling. Your mom was a loving, nurturing person, but unfortunately, not much of a disciplinarian. Your father had too much on his plate at work to wrangle Rachel in as much as he’d wanted.

“Because he believed in you!” she said. “He didn’t just pick at you or criticize you or tell you what to do like you were one of his little soldiers. He talked to you like…like a person. Even…even when he was dying. He only ever asked for you, or for Mom. He never asked for me.”

You heard the resentment and immature selfishness in her voice, but you also heard the hurt. The deep kind of hurt that could make you lash out at others, just to try to mask the pain.

After a long moment of hearing her pitiful sniffles, you sighed.

“He did ask for you,” you admitted. “That day, when you and Mom went out to get coffee, and it was just me and him…I think he knew it was the end. He opened his eyes for the first time in days, and he said your name. His eyes went all around the room, like he was looking for you.”

Rachel’s body shook underneath you. Her quiet sobs of realization reached your ears.

“I called you, but you didn’t pick up. Maybe you had your phone on silent because we were in the hospital… Anyway, a few minutes later, he was gone,” you said. “But he loved you, Rachel. He just hated that he couldn’t stop you from becoming what you are. Selfish. Insecure. Immature and vindictive. A truly heinous combination.”

Rachel had long stopped fighting you. She just cried and shook like a leaf.

You jolted at a touch on your shoulder. You were surprised to find Mark, looking down at you with calm reassurance and a tinge of humor in his eyes.

“All right, sweetheart. Think she’s had enough,” he said.

Rachel gasped and craned her neck up as far as she could. Her eyes went impossibly wide, her mouth falling open in shock to see him.

Mark helped you up with one hand on your arm and another around your waist. He guided you away from your sister. Rachel pushed off the ground and scrambled shakily to her feet. She wiped at her disgusting face painted with three kinds of shit, but shame was what radiated the most when she looked up at you and Mark.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said.

It was the first time you actually believed her. You didn’t say anything, but you swallowed tightly.

Rachel shot one last glance at Lisette, who was teary herself with disappointment. Rachel grabbed her purse off the ground and retreated quickly to her car. You watched her go, releasing a deep breath and the rest of your fury.

Mark massaged the back of your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. He felt a surge of pride well up in his chest for you. Not just for being a veritable badass and handling your business, but for still having the kind heart he knew underneath.

“You good, Rocky?” he asked with a note of teasing.

Your lips tugged reluctantly at a smile. You wondered how much he saw. How much he heard. All you knew was, you really needed to get cleaned up.

“I don’t know. I might still be a danger to myself and others,” you said, a little slyly as your gaze ran up to his. “Might even need you to restrain me.”

His brows rose, his resulting grin showing teeth. You still knew how to catch him off-guard, in the best fucking way.

“Mark, is that really you?” your mother asked from the porch.

You two had to put a little pin in your game, for now, but his green eyes were full of promise. His lips twitched upward and he squeezed your waist. Then he looked up.

“Hey, Lisette. Been a while.”

When you and Mark ventured up the steps to join her, Lisette welcomed him into a warm, warm hug. The kind that sunk into his bones and made his shoulders feel a little lighter.

She later sighed and pulled away, giving you both a raised brow.

“It looks like there’s more to the story of what happened last year,” she said.

“That there is,” Mark nodded. He shared a look with you, and with your clean hand, you rubbed his back in support. However he wanted to do this, you would back him up.

“Well, we can talk about it over dinner,” Lisette said. She opened the front door to the house, giving a small smile. “I made a pot roast.”

Mark’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, I’m excited.”

You and your mom had the same laugh, like sweet sunshine.

“You remember my pot roast?” Lisette asked.

“’Course I do. With the little potatoes, sprinkle a’ rosemary?”

Mark held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, and he shut it behind him.

AN: Sister, sister, dog shit eater. Amirite? 🤣

I have another Mark fic in this storyverse for you guys next week! I do have more ideas too (especially after watching 1x05 😭), so I plan to continue this little series as we get deeper into the season. 💜

But until then, I'd love to know what you guys think of this one! I think reader and Mark deserve a lot more "making up for lost time" moments lol. And was her confrontation with Rachel everything you wanted it to be? 😂

Next Time:

Your arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A smile began to tug at his lips on reflex. He felt your head resting against his dewy skin. Your hands inched up his chest and playfully teased with your nails. Little sexy scratch. Little kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. A teasing note crept into his voice, “It’s too early for you.”

“You got in late last night.” Again. He’d been pulling late hours all week. Whatever case he was on, you had a feeling it was a big one. He still wouldn’t give you any details though. Not even when he was gone for almost two days, coming back smelling like a rancid farmhouse and covered in sweat and grime.

“I want to see you,” you added softly. “Kinda the whole point of me being here.”

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[faestunna]

what are your headcanons for Jack? domestic fluff and/or smut if you're comfy with that :)

boyfriend!jack o’connell

WARNINGS: some silly domestic fluff, smut (18+) under the cut

A/N: you know, i initially was against writing for jack but…thinking of boyfriend! jack has me tweaking. as always, this was written with fem!reader in mind! i made the layout a little different since its my first jack x reader piece. i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are always and greatly appreciated!

boyfriend!jack is home from filming, but he’s jet lagged and exhausted, so he’s got more than four alarms set in the morning—none of which wake him up. “jack!” you whisper hoarsely at six am. he grumbles awake and turns them off with his eyes closed before putting an arm around you, “sorry, love.”

boyfriend!jack understands that sometimes women take a little longer to get ready. he’s not the one to complain or bug you about time because he know that doesn’t change anything—he literally learns how to do your hair while you finish your makeup. learns tips and tricks from stylists and MUA’s on his sets too. he’ll learn to braid, too, and show you: “look at the one, eh? i think i’m gettin’ better.” he is slowly but surely

boyfriend!jack picks up your prescriptions from the pharmacy for you. gives your name and birthdate, and eventually, the pharmacologist knows to recognize him now. he’ll come back home and joke they’re on a first name basis.

boyfriend!jack who does the laundry as long as you do the dishes. he cannot stand the thought of putting his hand into various pots and bowls of mysterious water. sometimes you splash him with it because the shrieks he makes are hilarious. “i swear to god, babe,” he says every time now. “you better not!”

boyfriend!jack agrees to make a private, secret insta account just for you. “no point, love, you know i try to stay off that stuff,” is how he’ll make it seem at first. give or take a few weeks, he’s sending you reel and after reel while he’s literally a room away. and about ten seconds after, he asks, “oi, babe, did you see the one i just sent you?”

boyfriend!jack likes to hit it from the back. he doesn’t call himself a tits or arse man, he loves every part of you…but no, jack just likes having you bent over with your face pressed into the bed while he pounds into you. “christ, i can feel that pretty cunt grippin’ me.” one hand settled on your lower back to bring you to him with every thrust.

boyfriend!jack goes deeper than any other man has before. it’s especially in doggy, but, really, go in any position and the tip of his cock will be leaving little kisses at your cervix. in missionary, he especially love to put his hand just above your mound and press, so he can feel himself rutting into you. “that’s it. look how deep i am, baby, i can almost see it.”

boyfriend!jack asks to give you head. “you don’t have to do anything, love” he says as he spreads your legs and licks one bold stripe through your folds. when he hasn’t shaved, the scruff on his jaw and chin adds a perfect sensation. “so good, sweetheart. tastes so good.” and he gets dirty with it. uses his entire face—yes, his nose too—to push you over the edge.

boyfriend!jack actually just likes admiring you. every part of you, but he loves to just have your legs spread apart, pussy gleaming with slick and heat. “she’s so pretty” he says lowly, lips hovering over you so you can feel his breath hit your folds. “all pink and swollen and waiting for me.”

boyfriend!jack isn’t afraid to use toys. there i said it. and he won’t have anything crazy mainly because he doesn’t understand it but, at the very least, there’s a bullet vibe or a wand or a rose toy because he likes making you feel good. he’ll have you completely wrapped in his arms, holding you down while you writhe and squirm as he pulls a fifth orgasm from you. “that’s it, now, love,” he covers your mouth with one hand and pins the toy to your clit with the other. “all over my hand, there you go. that’s my girl.”

© faestunna 2025.

[cherryyserenade]

ur hee bf head canons were so cute 🫶 could u do a hoon version?

*ೃ༄ boyfriend enha headcannons ft. sunghoon

a/n: this ask was so sweet omg thank you :) i had so much fun writing this version so i hope you like how it turned out <3

pairing: 박성훈 x fem!reader ᨳw: mentions of jealousy, dry texting, teasing, simply just fluff

sunghoon is the type of boyfriend to...

01. …act like he’s annoyed when you cling to him in public, but never move away.

he’ll be like “ugh, why are you like this,” while literally adjusting his arm so it wraps around you better. his face is straight but his ears are bright pink. if anyone teases him about it, he’ll just say “she’s cold.” you’re not. he just likes having you close.

02. …refuses to share his stuff with the members but hands you his hoodie like it’s nothing.

jay once asked to borrow it and got a straight up “no.” you yawn once and he’s already taking the hoodie off the hanger. he’ll drape it over your shoulders all dramatic and then act like he didn’t just give you his favorite hoodie of all time. you’re the exception, always.

03. …makes fun of your music taste and then secretly adds all your favorite songs to his playlist.

he’ll say that it “doesn’t even match the vibe” while still letting it play. then two days later you catch your comfort song sitting in his “late night skate” playlist. don’t ask questions. just know he listens to it when he misses you.

04. …looks like he’s not listening when you talk, but remember every little thing.

you’ll mention craving strawberry milk one time, just randomly, and the next time you see him, he’s handing you one like it’s nothing. doesn’t even say a word. just gives it to you and keeps walking, because of course he remembered. and right before he turns away, he leans in and kisses your cheek like it’s just routine.

05. …let’s you put rings or hair clips or stickers on him and pretends he doesn’t care.

but the second you leave, he looks at them in awe for a weirdly long time. one time you stuck a pink bunny sticker on his phone case and he never took it off. when someone pointed it out, he said “oh i didn’t notice.” he definitely did.

06. …be brutally honest about everything except how much he loves you.

he’ll roast your outfit, your movie taste, even your sneeze — but the minute someone else teases you? oh this man turns into your personal defense lawyer. “shut up, she’s literally perfect.” and he says it so casually, like it’s just a fact.

07. …sees you across the room and tilts his head with that slow, lazy smile like he’s already yours.

he won’t wave. won’t call your name. just that look. that quiet smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. like he’s not even surprised you caught him staring. he’s been staring.

08. …fake complains whenever you lie on top of him, but won’t let you move.

he’ll be like “can’t. breathe.” and act like you’re crushing him even though he literally pulled you into his lap in the first place. he’ll rest his chin on your head and scroll on his phone like it’s the most normal thing in the world. this is his happy place.

09. …sends dry, low effort texts like “ok” and “lol” but lights up the second he sees you.

he’s not the best at texting, just short replies, random memes, and the occasional “you up?”but in person? oh he’s all warmth. smiling before you even say hi, pulling you into a hug that lasts a little too long, like he’s been waiting all day. sometimes he brings you your favorite drink without saying a word. he’s just better at showing he cares when you’re standing right in front of him.

10. …secretly takes videos of you just doing random things because he thinks you look cute.

he literally has a camera roll full of you tying your shoes, yawning, even downing a energy drink like it’s a wildlife documentary. and he’ll never admit it. you’ll just find them by accident one day and he’ll get all flustered and go “don’t look at those.”

11. …gets jealous in the pettiest, quietest ways.

he won’t really say anything, but you’ll notice he gets real focused on his phone the second someone else makes you laugh. when you ask what’s up, he shrugs and says “nothing”, but then he’s suddenly sitting closer, casually reaching for your hand and resting his on your thigh like it’s no big deal. he’s not mad, just reminding you where your attention should be.

12. …does everything to keep up his cool guy idol image but completely melts when you call him pretty.

he’ll have his arms crossed, sunglasses on, trying to act all unbothered — but the second you say, “hoon you look so pretty today” with that smile on your face, he’s hiding his face behind his hand and trying not to smile. he’ll mumble something like “don’t say that” but you can literally see him glowing. he loves it. especially when it’s from you.

a/n: i LOVED writing this one actually. if there's a specific member you wanna see next, drop it in my inbox i am very easily influenced (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[iminyourwallsbabe]

Okay I figured someone should explain this about Momo and her friends because I feel like there's a lot of confusion but yes, ALL THREE OF THEM are gyarus.

Now you're probably thinking "well obviously Muko is, look at her, but the other two just look normal"

That's because Muko is what we would call a manba/yamanba gyaru. She tans really dark or she is just naturally dark, idk yet you can never tell with these characters. Besides the tan, their makeup tends to be more extreme, which is why hers stands out so much more compared to Momo or Miko.

Her accessories are also very colorful, which gives us some hints about her style outside of school. In keeping with manba fashion and just gyaru fashion in general, it's probably loud and super patterned.

The second thing we have to understand here is that they're all kogals.

"But wait, I thought you just said she was a manba?"

Kogal is technically not a style. I say technically because it's a little complicated. Kogal, generally speaking, is a term meant to encompass gals currently in school. The reason you may look this up and see a lot of uniforms isn't because that's what the "style" requires, but because these are often school-aged girls who don't have the choice to wear anything else on a regular basis. However, that in itself kind of became a style? In the sense that they would change the way they wore their uniforms and what they wore them with to align with gyaru styles outside of school. So while kogal is not a style by definition, there is a style by nature of that definition. Ykwim? If that doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. Just know for our intents and purposes we're gonna talk about kogal as a label and not a sub style.

Anyway, back to this. So all of them are kogals, which means a few things. One, their fashion in school is somewhat limited, and so are their hair and makeup choices. Some schools are stricter about this than others, some parents contribute to that strictness or add some that wasn't already there. As far as the school in Dandadan goes, it seems like they don't care too much about that kind of thing.

Not to mention, school is a lot of work! It gets busy, and gyaru makeup takes a long time. (I would know, I'm a gyaru). And if you're also fighting aliens who wanna steal your uterus and demons who just... do demon shit, chances are you aren't going to have the energy to be doing that every morning. Not even Muko, the most extreme of the two, does her makeup all the time

So the lack of makeup, even though it's usually a good identifier doesn't mean Miko and Momo aren't gyarus still.

Also, look at their clothes compared to real life kogals.

This is no coincidence. This is undeniably kogal.

Also notice that in these pictures, these gals are wearing gyaru makeup, but it's not as in your face as what I showed earlier. That could also be the case with Momo and Miko.

From my understanding I don't think they're wearing makeup but if they are, it's probably a lot more subtle, which is a real and totally acceptable thing for gals to do, especially in school. I can imagine this would be hard to animate properly, especially in a battle shonen. This is also why sometimes, you might not even know a character is gyaru until the creator confirms it later. (Think Camie and Mina from MHA). Like they were probably wearing the makeup the whole time, but because of the art style and the fact that it's animation, we couldn't tell straight away.

They could be doing something like this

It still has the pillars of gyaru makeup, like the nose stripe and the bright under eye, but if you don't look hard enough or you just pass by it in the street, you may miss it. What really gives away their subculture to the untrained eye is their accessories, the way they do their hair, their nails, and little things of that nature. It's why Momo has those big ass earrings, why she wears her choker, stuff like that. It all screams "gal" even without the makeup.

Now you may be saying "what about when she's not in school"

Well, like I said, she might still be wearing makeup but we cannot tell because of the medium this show is in. And two, do you see what she has to do damn near everyday? I wouldn't bother with makeup either. Imagine dodging fucking hair follicles in that kind of makeup, it'd be ruined within an hour. I'm sure she would do it if her life wasn't so hectic though, if she isn't already cuz like I said, we kinda can't tell.

But despite all of this, she does make a point to be dripped tf out at all times. I think that's also where some of the confusion comes from as well, because her style doesn't look like what we imagine as gyaru, especially in the west. But I'll get into that in part 2, because I can't add any more pictures lol.

I'm out.

[abyssalaerlocke]

I used to constantly crash because of lag spikes, so I headcanoned it that the chip damage is causing mini blackouts and stuff — one minute you're fine, then suddenly you're falling over the rail.

I have an (unposted) fic where Jackie didn't take the chip out, and it revived him. V's been telling him to be careful, especially as it progresses and gets worse. Eventually he ends up taking a dive into the canal, with the implication he died and rezzed again. Calls V, who picks him up with a change of dry clothes.

This playthrough, I fell in with the bike on my way to pick up Rogue for our date — good time to switch to Johnny's Porsche, but they're gonna show up soaking wet and smelling rank. Should have waited til I got there to switch to Johnny's clothes, they would have been dry 😅

(these were gonna be tags, but it's a lot of fun:)

Johnny crying about how Kerry's gonna put us in a ditch. Like *I've put us in the canal 3 TIMES this playthrough!*

Always prefer the bike though; Handling's better, Narrowness gives more leeway to avoid hitting things, can even drive on the walls and barriers

had a nice shot of the tire tracks where I safely passed over the heads of a couple junkies at the side of a tunnel

That Jackie fic I said V only rides, because they're a terrible driver. They very rarely drive a car, and describe themself as a "bad parking AI" — basically, whatever AI lets you call your vehicle, but isn't fit to drive passengers 🙄

Did give the Murkman car a full driving (and talking) AI like Delamain though, which gave V the versatility to have a passenger. Since Murkman's a reference to Batman, I called it Al — which is both short for Alfred, and looks like A.I.

I miss Al; what started as just a neat option for V to have a car, turned into an involved character. Joined in a firefight once, and got Johnny and Rogue to come when Scavs had V upstairs; couldn't access their phone HUD without their physical phone nearby, but could call vehicles — Al's just capable of understanding and doing more than the usual ride. When Johnny was too drunk to drive, and wanted their next impromptu date destination to be a surprise, V let him tell Al where to take them before getting in.

i do find it funny how everyone in the cyberpunk 2077 community has collectively decided their V is a horrible driver and just made it a character quirk and not reflective of us as players finding it difficult to drive

[sylusnsakuras]

Witch reader x dragon sylus

A little sylus thought i conjured up at 1am Dragon sylus has infested my brain and i always eat up the witch trope, first time posting kinda nervous

Herbs wafted through the air, aromas of decadent spices and florals encapsulated the dimly-lit room. Rain gently pitter-pattered outside the small house. A sigh escaped your lips as you contently watched the ingredients in the broth spiral in the pot. Your eyes flickered once to the manual and a satisfied hum escaped your lips-

CRASH-

Your eyes widened and your heart thundered wildly in your chest. Reaching for your stone amulet and haphazardly placing in around your neck you rushed to the front door, footsteps coming to halt as you creaked the wooden door open. Craning your neck, you peered outside. You took a sharp intake of breath while you stood, transfixed and rooted to the ground.

A dragon. Wait no- A man- Wait, a man dragon? A dragon man?

A hunched figure, black wings cascading like a blanket against his pale skin. In the middle of your beloved herb patch you've been cultivating for the past month. The red veins that travelled along the expanse of his chest. His chest rising erratically while his snowy eyebrows were furrowed in a grimace. A groan escaped from his lips, low and brooding.

Suddenly gaining awareness, you rush over and peer over his body.

'Sir- uh..Mister Dragon? Are you alright?'

Slowly, your eyes met with the most richest red you've ever seen. Even your enchanted carnations couldn't match these carnine beauties. His pointed glare sent shivers down your spine as the intensity struck you like lightning.

'Oh no, I'm doing perfectly at the moment.'

The creature sits up slowly, clutching his bicep with his clawed talons, face scrunched and jaw clenched. Your eyebrows raise in annoyance. This beast had crashed and trampled over your herb patch- which you still hadn't fully processed- and proceeds to give you attitude. Your eyes rake over his bloodied appearance and you jut your chin out.

'Glad to hear that. Mind the plants next time you land oh-so gracefully'

He scoffs and glances behind you at your cottage, head tilting comically like a cat.

'You wouldn't had happen to have anything useful in that... nook of yours?' He raises his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed at your cottage. You sigh and grimace; you've set up a nice, peaceful life for yourself, not to have it insulted by some man-creature thing-

'Well? Is your head working? I'm starting to think you're more prone to crashes than I am'

'You!- I-' You huff in annoyance as you straighten up and dust off your skirts. You march into your cottage and grab an array of medicinal herbs, potions and bandages from your wonky shelf and stuff them into a wove basket. Your boots crunch against the dry grass as you kneel in front of him. You mutter under your breath about ungrateful and unprecedented visitors and general hosts, failing to see how the man's eyes seem to be fixated on your task of mixing remedies. His ruby red eyes bore into your face, the soft curve of your nose, the apple of your cheeks and your pout. You looked so soft, so unlike him that he couldn't help but smile a little.

For a brief moment, your eyes flicker to his while you were hunched over the liquids. You lick your lips and swallow ( so hard that you're certain he must have heard it). Mirth swirls in his eyes as he rests his head on his elbow.

'T-This might sting a little but it'll remove the germs, okay?' Your hands move up to show him the drenched dressing as he hums. You reach out to place it on his wound while he grinds his canines in discomfort.

'Not too much longer...' You carefully pour another concoction and the pain instantly subsides into a dull heaviness across his bicep. You smile to yourself as the remedy seemed to be successful. Humming to yourself, you absentmindedly, reach out to loosen the pink plaid bandana on your head and wrap it around his arm, it barely fits without becoming too tight. You scooch away with a gentle pat on your arm as you raise your head to his. But you find him gently smiling at the piece of cloth.

A week has passed since the stranger had crashed into your garden. The exchange had been brief but the mystery man had been on your mind. Particularly his features. Hybrid creatures were not common in this forest, especially such draconic looking ones.

You allowed the thought to dwell in your head as you grinded the petals in the bowl. A gust of wind shook your wind chimes outside your window, peering over to see them still moving, the delicate notes being carried by the wind. You stand up, wind had not been forecasted today you pondered, and open the door. You look down to see a great stack of red and pink camellias at your doorstep and reaching across the path, the roots cut off. Your head scanned left and right, but no person was to be found. How long must have this taken? The flowers almost swallowed your front garden. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to place them into the basket next to you. Who, or what did this?

It seems the flowers were not a single occurrence but would span over the next week, a multitude of species and colours always graced your doorstep each morning. You smiled and wordlessly plucked them off the ground. Unaware that the sway of your skirts was being watched by gleaming red eyes. Until suddenly one morning your plaid bandana was folded amongst the red roses. And looking ahead into the forest, you met the same crimson irises you had seen not too long ago.

[rose-maidenn]

•||A reading on your past life ||•

Pile 1-2-3

Hello Besties welcome to this new reading , choose with your intuition and take what resonates and leave the rest , thanks for waiting and i hope this readings helps you in a way I love you so so much . If you resonate please leave a comment or a feedback as it makes me so so happy.

Also This is a triggering reading so prepare yourself or read later 🫶 Sit with pop corn cause this is gonna be long.

Masterlist || Paid readings

Pile 1 :

Hi and welcome to your reading , thank you for allowing me to read you , firstly can I give you a hug cause this is heavy sweetheart, I feel like you're such a kind soul and you're so confused as to why things are happening as they're happening but don't worry we will unroll it for you today . You were a masculine in your past life quite literally or you were someone who had a lot of masculine energy , who was bold , ambitious and strong , one of the confirmations will be south node in leo or 5th house . Some of you belonged to the middle eastern countries or any country that was heavy on family and legacy , honestly I even get a little mexican mafia family vibe ,that's so cool !!!!!

Your childhood was filled with riches and fun , your family was very much on the dangerous side but your birth brought changes , the quarrels, the violence reduced a lot due to your incoming , you saved your family so to say and this path was not so easy , because a big family comes with many people and many different perspectives , you quite literally had to fight a lot of judgement and introspection. At a point you might even have gone away from your family and then returned , they're were people who weren't your well wishers , I sense uncle and aunt energy and in this life they have reincarnated as your friend , if you want to identify them you just have to see who has stolen something from you and you will get the answer . I also get something about the Egyptian scarab as well you should read about it . Some of you in your past life might have chosen the life of a monk or an ascetic or someone who was detached from the idea of love which is so surprising because in this life you crave love so much but back then you had really different priorities and you respected yourself and the other person enough to not pursue that but on the other hand some of you did have a breakthrough later in life , whoever this person was who caused the thaw of your heart was a mercury dominant person .

One of your main obstacles was your overthinking and even in this life you suffer from it , this is a controversial suggestion but trust me don't read or listen too many predictive stuff okay , focus on the present , affirm positive things , believe that you create your reality . Another obstacle was shame and guilt , you had done something that wasn't so accepted by the society and you beat yourself up so much because of that , this could be one of that reasons why you turned to be a monk . Your achievements in your previous life time was influence and flamboyance, you were quite literally the queen bee or the literal queen or the princess of your community, you served them and some of you also later turned to be an oracle whoever chose to be stern in the path of the ascetic . You were jovial and you lifted spirits up so much so you were really loved among your community until the fall i mentioned when I spoke about in your obstacles . Spiritually the card from my deck is of Yemaya so some of you could be her devotee , or the devotee of a water God/ Goddess like Aphrodite , Laxmi , Apah. On the other hand from my other deck it showed that some of you believed in the power of nature and healing through nature as nature was your mother , you practiced salutations to the sun and sang hymns to the sun , danced and rejoiced with your community and we're very centred in your beliefs . You also taught a lot of people to be confident in their own practice and continue to do so even in this life .

You died a happy death I don't see violence , either you died alone as a monk or you died with your disciples or family , the energy is that you were peaceful during death , you overcame most of the patterns that hurt you .

The main lesson you learned in your past life was that of the act of leaving , to understand when to leave , when to desert and when to choose yourself . As humans we oftentime stay stuck in the same cycles because we are scared of what will happen if we get off the leash , but your last life you learned this lesson. The karma you brought forward in this life was that since some of you feel very null or feel as if life or existence itself is like a void , you feel as if you have problems in creativity or you're not intellectual enough or you can't talk that well in the public , this is due to the shame you still carry regards to the general public , you thought you healed it in the past life but you just repressed it , this manifests as fear of being seen in this life . Your past life purpose was to create an identity beyond your primary care givers , a detached persona beyound the people in your life , to immerse yourself in art and acquire knowledge and skills and share your knowledge.

Your current life takeaway is to be quick in your actions and decisions , to do what your heart wants as fast as you can . They say creativity is like a bird you have to catch it and in this life your takeaway is to catch it , understand your patterns and shadow and release it . Nurture yourself like you are your own mother and take care of yourself like you're a child . Another takeaway is to connect to your soul family and find a community or tribe , when you overcome your fear of being seen the community will appear in front of you . You will be seen, heard and loved . All the best 🩷

Pile 2:

Hi and welcome to your reading , thank you for allowing me to read you , before I even started reading i got the energy that some of you were war veterans or doctor in your past life , the other energies here are that of a brave warrior , princess/lady in high society , and this is an interesting reading so get ready for a ride .

Firstly you were a female or with feminine essence , which coincides with then nurturing energy of a doctor and the vision I received , the vision was of a nurse or doctor tying a bandage on a child , in this case you can be either of the two parties , the child who suffered in war or the nurse who grieved the losses everyday . In this lifetime you're a truly sensitive person , you cry for kids , you feed dogs and people mistake this sensitivity for a weakness but you're truly an intelligent soul .one thing about you was in past life you were someone who was very stable and someone who was tranquil and could handle situations . Some other words I get about you are cholera epidemic and shock therepy, which might result in your have nervous system issue or a weak nervous system in this life .

Moving on as a child you were really outspoken, you broke norms , one interesting fact about some of you is , your parents in the past was suffering or in distress that they aren't conceiving but then they were blessed with you , I get that it was through the worship of a solar deity and they guide you this life as well , you were quite a loner and always in their own zone , your communication was clear and you used to read a lot of books and we're good with education in general, you never dimmed your light and you never adjusted which made you a local lore and center of attraction in your community , all of this gave you quite a breaking childhood , you were really lonely tho .

When it comes to your family they weren't the best ones , they didn't believe in family bonding much they were the caregivers they gave you food but not emotional care , but the thing is they were so busy as well , they couldn't even care for themselves , always either travelling or moving away , but you did have a motherly or god mother figure who took ample care of you . They created a safe space for you and a home that you could run to when you felt that the world was too much , this is eerie but this motherly figure will meet you in this life in the form of a pet , prominently a cat .

When it comes to relationships they were healthy , this person loved you so much , remember there is a theory that states the moles in your body indicate where your lover kissed you most and you do have a lot , they might be in a nurturing field as well or be a landlord , they were interested in gardening or were into teaching . They were truly a mirror of your energy and your love felt like devotion in true sense , really pure and beautiful energy .

The obstacles in your previous life was that you never connected to your purpose of a revolution, you wanted to go against norms you wanted to revolt against evil people but you were scared , but you were silence , but your truth was hidden , you took money for your silence for some of you . In this life you feel creatively blocked because of that . Some of you are actually starseeds lyrian or Arcturian . You were so into nurturing others but you didn't nurture yourself . I channel the song army dreamers so strongly btw.

Your achievement was that you were the people's princess , a high land lady , a queen , a succesful warrior , a nurturing women good at what she does , a great teacher or a nurturing protective housewife . You empowered people in a passive way as a housewife . But if you were a successful warrior for some of you , it was in your later life , i lowkey get mulan vibes , the people's princess or landlady or queen that you became was because of the love you had for your people, you were benevolent and an energy giver a time giver . You were a good disciple , a learner . You learnt how to say no to people in later life and gave good guidence .

Your spirituality was of shinto , buddhism , catholic, Russian or sumerian , you believed in redemption and cried for people in a way , you prayed for the winners and the sinners , you might have been very interested in Baba Yaga, or worshipped a fire deity , you were born by the blessings of a solar deity I stated earlier so they still guide you , I channel Apollo energy . Some other energies you might have worshipped were feminine like Hera , Parvati , Radha and Hanuman as well as a masculine deity . In your later life you might have changed religion or become religious and you went through a spiritual awakening. Once in your past life some of you underwent an episode of possession.

Your death happend during a war for some of you , you lived a fairly good life and died with honour , as a serve to your country or war . For the others of you emotionally you suffered too much and in a way that led to your unfortunate demise , sickness could be the reason as well you could surpass the sickness but you gave up mentally , hugs to you sweetheart.

Lessons learnt are of carefulness in this life and the fact that you will loose opportunities if your timings are wrong , you have to choose your mission is another life lesson, don't avoid your mission every soul has one tap into yours. Another lesson learnt is of intuition and how to use it well . You learnt how to be wise but also in a playful mode and learnt how if you're not rooted in yourself people places and energies will drain you .

The karma you brought forth came from lost desires of your soul , you wanted to live more , experience more but you couldn't, this life calls for you to enjoy in your own accord . For the others of you in the war , if someone died through you , this life you will nurture them and release their karma . For the others you're born with a guiding spirit as in your past life you nurtured people a lot in this life you will too which will make you study medical fields and teach people . You past life purpose was to understand people and patterns and overcome them and have self belief . Your current life takeaway is simple that you're the master of your own fate and the captain of your own soul remember that and move with grace , you can do what you want your destiny is in your hands , stay blessed and look for signs like feathers and lanterns , keep a peacock feather in your room and honour your inner child and higher self 🩷.

Pile 3 :

Hi and welcome to your reading , thank you for allowing me to read you , You were of the masculine gender or with masculine energy , big dreamer energy and someone who was well liked among their peers the star , the charmer . I also channel the energy of heardsman , farmer , witch , oracle , odd but you used to love brewing tea and arranging flowers such a Japanese vibe.

You had a good childhood one that screams dance with the abyss, one could say you lived in utopia and bliss , you were mostly oblivious and didn't know about the harshness of the world mostly guarded and protected, you know one thing is that you were kept safe from the dangers of the society , there could be bad people conspiring against you or your family . For some of you you almost died when you were young due to falling from a height or due to someone conspiring. You were the first born and you brought so much joy into your family , from a young age you were a truth teller or a fortune teller and as a child you had strong psychic qualities . Some of you could even see ghosts .

You had a good family life , but it was really disciplined, you had to work a lot , had to go through famine at a point , practice regular religious or societal customs , one thing is that your family had seen both richness and poorness so it made you very strong inna way . They were people who believed that one should go for what their soul truly wants but often failed to stick with their own ideals , you eventually had to establish boundaries as they started to project their traumas and things that brought them backward onto you so you were seperated for a while , they weren't bad people , they just didn't know better and you forgave them .

You had meaningful and fruitful relationships , a loving sweet family , you had children and then grandchildren, shared stories , baked goodies , shared happiness and pain and passed down magical teachings and healing techniques . Your lover loved you so much and learnt so much from you , you had a healed heart chakra and it was brimming with love , you both filled each other's cups so lovingly and gave each other spiritual and divine knowledge . You both came and set an example for the society about how a relationship and how love should be and it was so beautiful for everyone to see and even if no one saw it you were really kind and that's all that mattered.

Your obstacles were tampered protection, when you lived you always lived in the fear of famine of the fear of being attacked , the fear that your resources will fall short , that you will have to give extra taxes , that bigotry of the rich will eat you up . For the others of you , you struggled to juggle between responsibilities and for the others you might have compromised your morals for an adverse situation .

Your achivement was that eventually you came out of that situation and lived a life where either you were emotionally extremely fulfilled and we're in absolute love and for the others you had so much resources , like I was telling you about the compromise of morals in the obstacles , this lead to the achievement and even tho it felt like you had achieved something it always felt like at what cost . You were the epitome of ask and you shall get it , you lept without overthinking and that is why universe blessed you with so much and you could transform your adverse situations into something fruitful. Eventually in your later life you became a person who lived with truth and was a person who believed in kindness but also violence .one of the main patterns that harm you to this day is guilt , self doubt and unreasonable fear.

Spiritually you belonged to a tribe that gave sacrifices to the deity , you may have been a Rishi who did yagyas . You belonged to Aztec , Hindu , zorastriann, Roman etc .You believed that the way to God requires sacrifice and this sacrifice could be anything , you were disciplined enough and did practice sadhana regularly , if you're worshipping some deity in this life it's most probable that you worshipped them in your past life too. You might have worshipped Zeus , Brahma , Saraswati , Athena, Murugan , Bhairav . You also might have practiced Tantra or even the marg of krishna bhakti .you believed in spirituality through actions of daily life.

You died an accidental death or were stabbed , you might have some marks in this life as well . You died due to a conspiracy . As you were getting so forward in your spiritual journey or gaining so much wealth people were after your money and resources and the thing they did was conspire against you to get your resources or supress your spiritual influence and gifts . Some of you knew when you would die and we're prepared . For a small percentage of you , you commited s*****e and because of that you might suffer from fear of death , abandonment and the fear of being lost .

The lesson you brought forward was that , you shouldn't be swayed by every little thing that comes forth and you should be grounded in what you have , that you should dream but you should be careful as most of the things that excite you can be false as the world is a palace of mirages one should be careful of the depths for the depths are beautiful but deadly . You also became a cautious and detailed oriented person in this life , you were careful as to not hurt yourself and your loved ones. The karma you brought forth was of doing things the right way , you have done some mistakes sacrificed some people for personal gain , been a harbinger of chaos knowingly or unknowingly and in this life you will cleanse them through your worship in pure forms , only your heart will guide you and your devotion will put you in place , be rooted in your practice and pray daily . Your past life purpose was to be a highly knowledgeable witch or oracle or priestess or an old grandma and you paved the knowledge of your clans and brought forth fertility to your lands . For some of you , you could have been a scientist.

The current life takeaway is to live your current life with ultimate truth and expression of your true self , you might be a sun dominant , check the placement of your sun as it's very essential to your purpose. Connect to your ancestors and connect to the knowledge of your soul . For some of you this life is great for your spiritual growth as a Shiv bhakt . You will have to remember in this life to not compromise your values and what you know and give openly to people and help as much as you can , this will cleanse your karmas and bridge you to higher living . I'm genuinely so so proud of you , have a blessed life , eat oranges and wear beautiful dresses you wanted this in your past life 🩷.

Thanks and have an amazing time ahead 🧡