#if you listen carefully you can hear my own heart breaking

[jtownraindancer]

Ace's TURИ for Burn Rewatch: Hearts and Minds

[goldenroutledge]

never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. [edit] it’s now been confirmed that he’s leaving. the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

daniel ricciardo masterlist

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

-

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

-

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel3.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

-

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback is greatly appreciated! stay strong dr3 nation 💌

[carbonfiction]

Soundless somethings

When logan comes home one day to absolute silence throughout your home, he knows something isnt right. He further cements that when he finds you tucked up in bed, struggling with a migraine attack.

This is something a little different for me; fluff not always being my strongest suit. But as a livelong chronic migraine suffering girlie, im always searching for comfort. This was completely self indulgent and i threw it at the wall (notes app) in the midst of getting over this very scenario. i figured I'd share in case theres anyone out there that needs some comfort the way i did when this came to be. <33

Warnings?: mention of migraine attacks, mentions of taking pills/medication, mentions of nausea (but no vomit), Logan being a sweet sweet man, Overall just fluff!

Pictured with origins!Logan in mind but feel free to imagine any version!

Masterlist Words: little over 1.3k

Logan could tell something was off the moment he stepped through the door. the lights are off, all the curtains drawn, enveloping the house in pitch darkness despite the earlier hour.

the sound of the tv doesn't play out, nor the usual music that would softly serenade throughout the house. Instead a deafening silence replaces it all.

His steps are quiet despite his weight; rushed yet carefull- calculated- as he treads to find you. He knows your home, the steady beat of your heart hushed in his ears as he strains to listen. He checks the kitchen and then the bathroom but he doesnt find you in either.

Instead, he finds you bundled up in your shared bed, blanket pulled up to your chin, a bag lined trashcan resting on the floor besides your bedside table.

There's a gentle sigh of relief; that your home and safe, as he pads over. A crease wedging its way between his brows as he Looks your bundled frame over. Your expression- that he can see anyway- is pained as he kneels carefully besides the bed. Slow and gentle to not jostle your body as his hands stabilize themselves on the plush mattress. Logan opens his mouth, question poised on his tongue, but you beat him to it.

"Logan?" you croak quietly, eyes squinted open, like the words hurt you to verbalize. In a way, they do.

"Yea baby s' just me." Logan keeps his voice low as he reassures you. His hand gently coming up and over your covered body to rest atop of your forehead and he smiles softly as you try to snuggle into it without much movement; his palm feeling cool and reliving from his time outside against your skin . "What's goin on hm? M' girl not feeling good?"

"Mhm" you hum back, eyelids falling shut again to block out the dimmed light. "'nother migraine attack".

Ah.. So that explains the quiet darkness filling, what is usually, your bustling home.

"Have you taken your pills baby?" Logan enquires with a sigh, voice low and careful to not hurt your head further as he stands as quiet as he can- save for the clicking of his knees that you'd usually tease him about- instead he finds himself apologizing.

Logan knows how bad these attacks can get, how they can range from a dull ache behind your eyes to a debilitating thump that pains every movement. That the trashcan besides your side of the bed often has a second purpose; for the days when you physically cannot move for the pain and nausea.

He knows how, when these attacks happen, even the quietest noise can make you unconsciously flinch in pain. That sometimes even the sound of your own heartbeat worsens the matching throb in your head. It breaks part of his heart every time, seeing you struggling so hard in your own body, but he'll do anything, often wordlessly to ensure you get through each attack supported with anything you need.

"Took em' earlier.. Didn't help much" you mumble, hushed and so sadly it makes logans heart clench in his broad chest. You hear logans steps retreat from the room, and you shift fractionally in bed. The movement deliberately slow as to not highten the nausea that floats over you in waves.

Tugging the cool side of one of logans pillows atop of your forehead, Its just enough to cover your eyes; to stop any extra brightness breaching your eyelids. The scent of him embedded in the fabric is comforting; but you find yourself thankful for the way it slightly muffles sound too as you listen to logan rooting around in the kitchen.

You know he's trying his best- he always does- his large heavy hands delicately struggling to maneuver around items much smaller. You just barley catch the muttered way he swears to himself as he grabs a glass out, accidentally clinking it next to another other, to fill with cold water.

When logan comes back he does so with his arms full. in one a condensation covered glass filled with water, crisp and cool from the fridge. The other is pressed to his chest and holds a box of crackers- simple and plain- and a packaged strip of ginger cookies to settle your stomach; your medicine carton then sitting atop of both.

You crack an eye at the sound of the packets as he places them down on the bed; apologizing for the rustling as you whimper. The idea of food not being over appetizing in your current state.

logan hides a smile, knowing and apologetic, seeing the grimace that rests on your lips.. "I know baby, i know.." he hushes gently, as he carefully sits himself beside you, dipping the bed as it groans. "but we gotta get something in your stomach before your next meds, y'know that."

You whimper again, pained and utterly miserable because you know hes right. You do need to eat before your next dose; otherwise you know it'll make the nausea worse. He sighs softly again as you whine, helping you rest up against the headboard.

The throb in your skull is louder as you sit straight, your eyes fully open now. the room is dimmed but light still filters golden through the fabric of the curtains. You make a mental note to purchase some blackouts when you feel more yourself.

Theres silence then, as logan watches your every move, occasionally handing you another cracker or cookie depending on what you mumble for. By the third cracker and second cookie a small protesting sound passes your lips, nausea flooding your bloodstream mid bite. Logan's hand finds your back, rubbing up and down softly hushing you through the wave, also ready to grab the trashcan if you need it.

"Just a couple more bites baby, you can do it.." he pushes quietly after a while of helping you steady your breath; urging you to just finish the last half of the ginger cookie sat in your hand. He grins slightly when you continue, bites small and almost sheepish as he places a kiss on your head before muttering into your hair "yea there you go. Good girl, proud of you baby."

For a while then, theres no movement; you sitting against the headboard and him resting besides you. His hand rubbing soothing shapes on your back.

Theres a panicked noise when he shifts, your fingers grasping at his shirt, but like always, Logans quick to reassure you. "Shh s' okay, just grabbing your pills, m' not goin anywhere, Promise"

You hum gingerly in understanding as his free arm reaches to the table, pulling your medicine packet into his lap before stretching again for the water.

You grimace, fingers wrapping around the glass as you bring it up to your forehead, resting it against your warm skin. Its cool and damp against you, making a sound of delight slip from your throat. Logan smiles at it, un-popping the little pills and handing you the correct dose.

He helps tip your head back, his hand resting over yours on the glass, guiding and gentle. Once swallowed he praises you again; lips pressing feather light kisses against your temple when you shift closer to his body.

"Love you lo" he just manages to hear you mumble into his neck. Your tone is still slightly sad; no doubt filled with fatigue as he helps you rest comfortable atop of him, head resting in the crook of his neck.

Usually you'd giggle at the tickle of his facial hair against your skin but for now you settle for an amused huff; too pained for laughter as you nuzzle closer to his scent with your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. akin to how a child clutches a stuffed toy.

"Love you too baby.." he replies softly, palm coming to rest under your- his- shirt. He smiles, heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your lashes fluttering shut. His cool hand soothing up and down your spine until he feels your breathing slow. Soft snores falling from your lips as his motions never cease. "Now, get that pretty little head to snoozin' hm?"

lemme know whatcha think? is fluff something you'd like to see more of?? bc i actually really enjoyed creating this <333

[frudoo]

I really like your writing! I'm so glad I found your page. I was wondering if I could do a drabble or little one shot ask about the 141 boys (poly or individual doesn't matter either way) I just had this idea because there's so many ideas about the boys not thinking they're good enough for their girl but what if it was the opposite way and I was wondering what you'd think their reactions would be.

The idea is that their girl is on the phone with her friend thinking they can't hear her talking (maybe they were asleep or out for a run or something) and her friend asks how things are going with them. Their girl full on gushes about the boys to her friend and her friend is like "oooo sounds like love to me! Have you told them yet?" And their girl is like "I... No of course not...They can't love me, I couldn't possibly expect them to."

This is long but thank you for listening to me ramble!

PLEASE I got so sappy with this one I just couldn't stop my fingers from typing. Also you're such a sweetheart <333

Warnings: Mentions of self-doubt, food, mentions of sex. Fem!Reader. MDNI.

Kyle Garrick:

     Kyle’s had a long day, and the man just wants a proper cup of tea. He starts down the hallway, but when he hears his name coming from your room, he stops dead in his tracks. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help but crack your door open to eavesdrop a bit. 

     “I’m telling you, he’s perfect! When I have a bad day, he’ll take me out for coffee, or we’ll go for a walk or just look around the pet store. Sometimes he’ll even do my laundry! It’s- it’s not a crush anymore. I’m in love with him,” you ramble on to your friend, who’s giggling with glee over the speaker of your phone.

     “Well, have you told him?” She questions excitedly, and you go quiet for a moment.

     “Of course I haven’t. Why would I? It’s not… it’s not like he feels the same. I’d just be hurting myself,” you reply sadly.

     Kyle frowns deeply, and he’s almost positive he can physically feel his heart breaking. God, he’d rather fall out of another helo than ever hear you sound so distraught again. He wants nothing more than to barge into your room and pull you into his arms, kiss away all your doubts and prove to you just how much he loves you. Instead, the sound of your voice brings him back to reality. 

     “I think I’m gonna grab a snack. It was good talking to you,” you hang up the phone and open your door, surprised to see your roommate standing right there. “Kyle! Shit, did- did you-? I’m so-”

     “Y’mean it?” Kyle asks softly, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.

     Even so, you sheepishly nod your head, unable to meet his eyes. His warm hands cup your face and lift your head up to look at him, and he smiles so warmly that you can’t help but do the same.

     “Silly girl. I love you, too.”

     John Price:

     The base was dead today, barely any paperwork to do or new recruits to train. For the first time in months, John was able to get off on time, and he decided to surprise you with a bouquet of flowers and your favorite Indian food. When he arrives at your flat, he uses his spare key to unlock the door and steps inside, kicking off his boots—ever since that one time you playfully lectured him on keeping your home clean, he’s engraved the rule into his brain.

     John sets your gifts on the island in your kitchen, glancing around for any signs of where you could be. You’re definitely home, he can tell that much by your keys dangling off the holder and your own shoes by the door. He carefully steps through the hallway and hears your unmistakable voice in the bathroom, along with the quiet sound of running water. He goes to turn the handle but decides against it when he hears his name slip from your lips.

     “God, I love John so much, you don’t understand. He’s everything I could ever want. Every time I see him, I just- I wanna kiss him stupid, y’know? I mean, shit, he’s already seen every part of me since he’s my best friend and all.”

     “So… when are you gonna tell him? It sounds like he’s interested, babe,” your friend’s voice rings through your phone. “Best friends don’t normally just see each other naked.”

     “Oh, stop it. There’s no way he could feel the same. I’m just… I couldn’t ask that of him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

     John’s heard enough. He trudges back into the kitchen and fixes your plate of takeout, as well as a glass of wine and some chocolates. He arranges the food on a tray and brings it back to the bathroom, not even bothering to knock before walking inside. You scream, and normally he would laugh, but he’s so hurt that you think you’re unworthy of his love, and he’s dead set on proving otherwise. 

     “Do you always scare the shit out of people you’re trying to surprise?” You laugh, hand resting on your chest as if it’ll calm your beating heart.

     “Only the one I’m in love with, sweet girl.”

     Simon Riley:

     “M’gonna step out for a smoke, love,” Simon informs you, and you nod politely.

     The coffee shop is a little too crowded for Simon’s liking, and he needs a break. Your company is the sweetest he could ask for, and he feels bad leaving you for even a second, but the demons in his head were begging for an escape. Still, he stands by the window where your table is located just so he can keep an eye on you. Call it a weakness, but when he sees you messaging your friend, he can’t tear his eyes away from the conversation. Thank the heavens for the little slip-up the café made, having the one-way windows installed inside out.

yeah he’s like,,, stupidly perfect

it’s like he’s trying to make me lose it???

like sir i’m already in love with you

what more do you want

lmaooo why haven’t u told him yet????

he’s obviously in love with ur dumb ass too

oh fuck off

you know we’re just friends

don’t give me hope

     Simon frowns deeply, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his boot. He’s spent his whole life in shackles, deeming himself unlovable, unworthy of anything good or sweet or kind. But when he met you, those thoughts dissolved like melting snow—he even took the mask off for you. He didn’t even know it was possible to love somebody so much, so to have the one person he adores more than anything in the world doubt herself? He won’t have it. 

     He reenters the coffee shop in a hurry, long legs striding over to you as quickly as possible. Before you can even react, he leans down to press his lips against yours, hands firmly on your face to keep you still. When he pulls back, he’s near tears looking at your shocked expression.

     “I don’t love y’like a friend. I love y’like a man loves his wife, like you’re the air I breathe. I’ve always been yours, y’hear me? Always.”

     Johnny MacTavish:

     Johnny’s expecting to feel your warm body beside his when he wakes, but instead he’s met with the soft thud of his arm onto the unoccupied sheets where you should be. He frowns and rubs the sleep from his eyes, checking his phone—it’s only 4:00 in the morning, and the sun isn’t even out yet. You’ve obviously not been in bed for a while, and it worries him. Did you leave in the middle of the night, all by yourself? Shit, what if something bad happened to you?

     Johnny hops out of bed and quickly pulls on his jeans from last night, starting a frantic search through his house. You’re not in the bathroom, or in any of the spare rooms, not even the sunroom where you love to cozy up and read a book. The last place he thinks to check is the kitchen, and lo and behold, there you are, brewing some coffee and talking on the phone to someone. Your best friend, he realizes, when you put the call on speaker to pour yourself a cup. 

     “It’s just… last night, he told me he loved me, and it- I don’t know. It ruined me. I couldn’t even finish, I had to fake it.”

     Johnny freezes and leans against the door frame. His stomach feels sick suddenly—did he really fuck up that bad last night? God, he knew he should have just kept his mouth shut, but he figured there was no better time to confess his feelings for you while he was… well, inside of you. He really thought you felt the same. Your little sniffle drags him out of his thoughts, and his eyes land on your now crying figure once again.

     “N-no, you don’t understand. I know he just said it because of the sex. I’m not… he couldn’t love me. Not the way I love him. We’re just friends who happen to sleep together sometimes. It’s my own fault for catching feelings when he- he deserves someone so much better,” the break in your voice destroys Johnny and all he can do is listen as your best friend calms you down.

     He doesn’t make a move until you’ve hung up. Only after you’ve set the phone down does he come barreling in, wrapping his strong arms around you, ignoring your shriek of surprise. Johnny pulls back to cup your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the fresh tears that managed to slip past your waterline.

“Ye’re the only one ah want. D’ye understand? Ye’re the only one fer me. Ah meant wha’ ah said, hen, ah love ye. There’s no’ a force on this earth tha’ could make me want ye less. Ye’re mine, alreit? As much as ah’m all yers.”

[springgirlshowers]

Tell Your Lucky One

Pairing: Joost Klein x GN!Reader (no prns used!)

CW: crying, just emotional angsty shit

WC: 832

A/N: lil angsty song fic, listen to Beach Baby by Bon Iver if you haven’t 🙏🏻🙏🏻 this has been in my drafts for a hot min so here you go! ignore how i used the same prompt i did in my last fic 😭😭

“Liefje, you know these dates were planned months ago.” Joost sighed, rolling his suitcase by the couch while you waited in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know, I just didn’t know the time was gonna pass so quick.”

“It’ll pass quickly when I’m gone too. I’ll be back home before you know it.” He said, entering the doorway. Joost sat down next to you,

“Two months.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself it wouldn’t be that long.

“Teuns gonna pick me up tonight and then I’ll have to get going.” You purposely didn’t ask what specific time he was leaving, you didn’t want to. You knew if he was leaving at a certain time you’d spend the whole night dreading the hour.

The sun was already setting, casting a golden glow on his face.

“I’ll text you and video chat every night, whenever I can. Maybe, I’ll even call you on stage.” He teased, tickling the side of your waist.

“There’s a smile!” He grinned when you squirmed away and giggled a bit.

You shuffled closer, throwing your legs over his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder.

You stayed there for a little, silent while Joost rubbed your back. Joost felt a few drops hit his shirt, he craned his neck to look at you.

“Hey, don’t cry liefje.” He cupped your face, wiping away the tears.

“I’m sorry.” You said, sniffling. “I’m just gonna miss you so much.” You didn’t mean to say it through a sob. Joost made a sympathetic noise.

His heart broke, he desperately wanted to bring you along, but he really couldn’t bring any more people on this tour and you had your own responsibilities to take care of.

“The two months will go by so fast you won’t even realize.” He tried to give you a smile.

You felt stupid crying over this, feeling like a child again, sitting in his lap and crying over a dropped lollipop.

You turned your face to the side, trying to hide it from him.

“Hey, look at me. I wanna see you.” You shook your head.

“I don’t look pretty when I cry, my face gets all pink and blotchy.” You said through a sad laugh. He brought his fingers under your chin, pulling your gaze back to him.

“I love your face, even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” He kissed the tip of your nose, you smiled.

You maneuvered yourself off of him, going back to your original spot next to him. Sitting in silence once again.

“Can you do one favor for me?” You looked at your hands, too nervous to look at him.

“Ja, ja of course.” He tried to look in your eyes.

“Just don’t lock the door when you go, I don’t want to hear you leaving.” You said softly.

Joost wanted to refuse and tell you how it was a risk. But you lived in a quiet and safe area.

And if it helped keep him from breaking your heart any more, he would do it for you.

“Okay.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. It hurt how he noticed the way you didn’t lean into the kiss like you always would. You only sat there silent, staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Will you just lay with me for a little bit?” You finally looked at him, lip pouting a tiny amount. He let out a hum of agreement.

You both moved to the top of the bed, shuffling under the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, holding onto your waist so tightly.

You grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers, and holding his and your hand against your chest.

Trying desperately to keep any more tears from escaping, you shut your eyes.

Staying there, so comfortable and so tired. You eventually drifted off into sleep, you didn’t mean to.

Joost didn’t wake you, knowing you didn’t want to see him leave. Once 8PM arrived, Joost carefully removed his arms from you. Walking around the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and tucking the sheets over you. So gentle to not wake you up, only making you stir a bit.

He did as you asked, closing the door as quietly as he could, not locking it before he stepped down the stairs.

You woke up later than you expected, it was nearly ten by the time you turned over and your eyes fluttered open. Instead of being met with Joosts warm body, it was only the cold empty sheets next to you.

You slowly got up and out the bed, going into the living room as you rubbed your eyes of sleep. His suitcase and bags gone.

Sitting down on the couch, you took in the moonlight peeking through the blinds and the sad quietness of the apartment. Hoping these two months would go by as quick as he said they would.

[sun-kissy]

for this request: may i have something along the lines of either yn or Sirius was having a really bad panic attack about sh and the other was helping calm down? Sorry if that's confusing it made more sense in my head!

all of it | s.b.

tw: mentions of scars, implicit but not present sh, crying

sirius black x reader

The empty food packets strewn all over the living room must’ve been a testament to how you were feeling. Sirius notices it, and the grimy smell that envelopes your apartment, as he quietly enters and kicks off his shoes.

It gets worse as he enters the hallway, food crumbs and empty bottles of beer littering the floor. He stops short right in front of your door. The place was a mess; he deduced that you were probably the same.

Sirius knocks carefully so as to not frighten you, straining his ears to hear the soft sound of your sniffling.

“Yeah?”

There’s so much pain in your breaking voice, Sirius thinks he can physically feel it cutting through his heart. “Hi baby, it’s me. Can I come in?”

It’s quiet for a moment before you let out a defeated “Okay.”

He slowly pushes open the door, eyes searching around the messy room before they finally land on you.

You were all curled up, knees to your chest and chin placed in between as you stared lifelessly at the wall in front of you with tears dribbling down your cheeks. Your hands were slotted under your thighs, and one look at that told him exactly what was wrong.

Sirius makes his way over to sit in front of you, tugging you closer until your knees were smushed between the two of you with his strong arms caressing your back. He rubs it slowly, feeling your T-shirt ride up as he traces shapes on your spine.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. He knows you would want to tell him yourself. “Siri,” you start, your voice nothing louder than a murmur.

“Yeah, love?” he whispers back, head tucked on your shoulder as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“It’s getting bad again,” you choke out, and Sirius feels the tears wetting his shirt. He pulls away slightly to nudge your knees apart until they’re wrapped around his hips, and you’re pressed against him with your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay.”

He lets you sob, and does his best to keep his own tears in. You were weak, so it was his turn to be strong for you.

This was a common occurrence in the process of your healing; which you’d agreed to start when Sirius had first discovered the red lines marring your wrists a few months ago. He’d cried, you’d cried, and a promise was made to help you get better.

You were working hard, but Sirius knew that sometimes the demons were too big to run away from, the days were too gloomy to shine a light upon. Relapses were bound to happen.

And so he continues to hold you as you fall apart, picking the broken pieces up, and having faith in the fact that you’d try your hardest to fix yourself back up tomorrow.

“I thought I was getting better. But today was just… bad. So bad.”

Sirius squeezes you impossibly tighter, swallowing the lump in his throat before he answers. “You are getting better, sweet girl. You are. One bad day doesn’t change the number of good days you’ve been having.”

All he gets is a small guilty croak in response. He tugs on your arms from underneath your thighs, and brings them to his sides.

You feel his slender fingers slipping under the long-sleeved material, hovering over the indents on your wrists. You press your face further into his shoulder shamefully.

Sirius continues to rub your back with one hand, bringing your wrist up to his lips with the other as he gently kisses the new streaks of red. He feels your body shuddering against him, and his heart sinks for the pain he knows is clawing at you.

“Love, listen to me,” he says tenderly, and you feel his breath on your wrist. “Today doesn’t mean anything, okay? You’re so strong for even trying to fight the urge.”

The guilt tears at you, knowing that you had failed to stop yourself once again. “But-“

“No buts, gorgeous. You tried and that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you. So proud that I’m gonna buy you a medal from the dollar store tomorrow.”

He smiles softly upon hearing your wet chuckle, which immediately turns to tears again when he starts to pepper sweet kisses on your other wrist.

“You’re gonna get clean, you hear me?” he whispers as he feels the scars against his lips. “You’re gonna get clean, one step at a time. And I’m sticking with you through all of it.”

A warbled thank you bubbles out of you as he sighs, dropping your wrist to cup your head and bury his face in your hair.

Your hair had a reek to it, he noted. The house was a mess, and your heart was breaking. But Sirius knew there was no way he could love you any more than he did, flaws and all. He was determined to be there for you through all of it, the good days and the bad ones.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Kids Are All Right | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from an assault (heed this warning pls my loves), canon gore, canon violence, angst

Word Count: 4773

A/N: Heyyyy.... accidentally posted two at the same time haha. No episode this Saturday as a result; I'm sorry, y'all!! But a little extra treat today!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Sam spoke almost twice daily after your heart-to-heart leaving Lincoln. You were incredibly grateful to still have his friendship; even if your phone calls had to be carefully maneuvered around times when Dean was in the room. 

You were unsure how to feel about the fact that Sam was still trying to find ways to break Dean’s deal knowing he’d die if that happened but would also support your friend in whatever his decision was. You refused to have any involvement in picking between the lives of the two brothers, though, even if you were falling deeper and deeper in love with him with each passing day. 

Just the thought of seeing him again was enough to have butterflies swirling in your stomach. You were terrified of what he’d say to you, yes, but you missed him so dearly. As chaotic as he could be at times, he truly was your rock. And with each day that passed, the sore pang in your heart at the thought of him seemed to intensify.

Not to mention, your struggle with your assault was draining you. Your heart hurt every time you walked past a mirror, and every once in a while, you’d see yourself in that guard uniform.

“Where are you guys?” you asked Sam through the phone as you walked around your motel room pulling clothes on.

“Cicero, Indiana,” Sam replied.

Your heart and stomach dropped. “What?”

“No way you’re here, too,” Sam began to laugh.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Sam! I purposefully picked a case that seemed like it wouldn’t pan out to stay away from him!” you replied frantically. “I mean, ‘guy falls on his own power saw’ doesn’t exactly scream unsolved mysteries!”

Sam was still laughing, but cleared his throat before talking again. “Yeah, but Dean’s cruisin’ for a hookup, too. That’s his main motivation, I think.”

You scoffed and ignored the burning feeling in your chest. “Of course, he is. Who is it this time?”

“Lisa Braeden. His… five day road trip from about eight years ago,” Sam explained. 

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Gumby girl.”

“So you know of her,” Sam said.

“Oh, yeah! After one of the first times we had sex, he told me I gave Gumby Girl a run for her money. ‘Best sex of my life before you’ is a direct quote,” you told him.

“Okay, ew,” Sam grimaced. “I don’t need to hear about your sex life—”

“It was topically relevant, Sam!”

“—and this is apparently one of his ‘dying wishes’.” 

“Way to let me down easy, jackass,” you sassed at the brunet’s clear inability to read the room in this situation. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave. Let Dean have his fun,” you continued.

“No, don’t!” Sam begged. “At least stay till tomorrow so we can meet for coffee. I’m sure Dean ‘ll still be out with Gumby.”

“We should probably call that poor woman by her actual name,” you giggled. “But sure. I’ll stay till then.”

“Great!” You could practically hear Sam grinning on the other end of the phone. “I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Bye, Sammy.”

***

Someone pounding on your door at around one in the morning woke you up with a start. Swiftly, you put the barrel of your gun to the door and listened because there was no peephole for you to look through. You opened the door a crack when you heard nothing for a moment to reveal Dean staring at the ground before looking up at you.

Shocked, you slammed the door in his face and threw your gun at your bed. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten to lock the door behind you, and Dean waltzed into your bedroom.

“(Y/N), you can’t leave,” the man told you.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Dean? How did you even find me?!” you cried. “What, you think after three weeks of not talking I’m just gonna let you— Especially after you just fucked Gumby Girl—!” You began pacing around the room.

“I didn’t fuck Gumby Girl, (Y/N),” he said softly, still standing close to the door.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, suddenly very aware of the underwear and oversized band t-shirt you wore to bed that night. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, still staring at the ground. His hands stayed in his leather jacket pockets. “Couldn’t bring myself to even try.”

You threw your arms out in frustration. “What, am I supposed to forgive you for not fucking one out of the many Sam’s been telling me about you being with since I left?!”

Dean seemed stunned.

“Yeah! So, I’m sorry, but you’re not just gonna waltz in here and act like everything’s fine and dandy,” you chortled coldly.

“Are you gonna give me a chance to explain myself?” he questioned angrily.

“Why should I?” you scoffed.

“Because you love me! I thought that was the whole point!” he argued.

You stared him down, eyebrows drawn together. “Well, you obviously don’t love or respect me enough not to go fuck random girls literal days after I leave.”

“I do!” he shot back. “Would you just fucking listen? I was drinking alone when Sam thought I was with those other chicks.”

You said nothing, still glaring at him.

“I didn’t fuck any of them, (Y/N), ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you!”

Tension hung thick in the air between the two of you, and you looked up at him with dewey eyes. When you couldn’t stand to hold his gaze anymore, you turned away. “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you… say it back? Say anything back?” Your voice broke while you talked. 

“I should’ve,” Dean replied quietly. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have left you guys with those demons.”

You felt Dean’s fingers gently graze your arm, and he waited for you to flinch away for a moment. When you didn’t, he reached out and gingerly turned you to face him and held you to his chest. 

You melted into him almost immediately and let all of the emotion you’d been holding back for the past three weeks out. He rested his head on top of yours and just held you there for a minute. 

“I can’t watch you die, Dean,” you told him, still hugging him tightly. “I can’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Can you just… stick around till my time is up?” He gently pushed you away from him slightly to turn your eyes up to meet his gaze. “Please? It’s my dying wish.”

You giggled through your tears but nodded. You immediately dove back into his chest. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered. 

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he said, voice beginning to shake. “But I couldn’t let ‘im die, (Y/N). I couldn’t do it.” “I know,” you nodded. 

The two of you stood there holding each other once more until Dean spoke up again. “And, uh… ditto, by the way.”

“What?” you snorted, pulling away from him. 

“What you said… at Bobby’s,” he explained, avoiding your eyes.

“You love me?” you asked, smiling lopsidedly.

Dean just nodded. 

“And you told me just by saying ‘ditto’?” You burst out into laughter at Dean’s attempt at vulnerability. 

Dean went red in the face and turned away. 

“No, no!” you said, immediately quieting down. “It’s just— that was so cute. You’re adorable when you can’t emote properly.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, tilting your chin up to kiss you passionately and effectively silence your laughter. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck immediately; almost like a reflex. 

When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against Dean’s. 

“You know I’m not letting you leave again,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled. 

***

You sat on the bed facing a shirtless Dean who was reclining against the headboard on a pillow while he told you his story from yesterday. He lazily drew circles on your outermost hip with his thumb as he talked. 

“So, I went to her house, right? ‘Cause… y’know. Gumby Girl,” he began sheepishly. “And, uh, turns out, she’s got a son.”

“Jesus, really?” you replied. “I forget most people have kids at our age.”

“See, this is where it gets interesting,” Dean continued. “So I go out to the backyard, and I see this kid, and (Y/N), I’m telling you, he looked just like me. Acted just like me, too. It felt like fuckin’ Freaky Friday.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” he cut you off. “But no. Lisa said he’s not mine.”

“How do you know she’s not lying?” you asked. You finally processed the story Dean was telling you, and realization washed over you in tidal waves. “You could have a child. You might be his father. What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he said. “It’s freakin’ me out, man. But that’s not all.”

“Dean, if this involves a paternity test that names you as a match, I’m gonna start freakin’ out,” you said.

“No, no, it doesn’t. At least, not yet,” he chuckled. 

You glared at him.

He laughed. “Anyway, I think there really is a case here. One of those kids at the party was weird.”

“Yeah, Dean, kids are weird. Any other earth-shattering news I should be aware of?” you snorted.

Dean deadpanned at you. “You know what I mean. She wasn’t standin’ all the way upright—”

“Maybe she just has scoliosis—” you cut in.

Dean kept talking over you. “—And she kept glaring at everybody—”

“—I glare at everybody—” you continued.

“—And it’s the kid whose dad fell on the power saw.”

You considered for a moment. “Okay, maybe there is something happening. But it could also just be how her grief is manifesting.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N), all kinds of freaky accidents have been happening all over the neighborhood,” Dean explained further. “People fallin’ off ladders, drowning in hot tubs—”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” you sighed.

“What’s your hold-up with all this?” he asked.

“Whaddya think, Dean,” you deadpanned.

“What, Lisa?” He seemed genuinely shocked. 

“I just think we should leave this town in our rearview mirror. Y’know, between Gumby Girl and her kid that’s potentially yours— oh, god,” you muttered when you fully realized Dean might have a son.

“(Y/N), he’s probably not mine. I mean, she said he wasn’t,” Dean reminded you.

“Somehow, that’s not making me feel better,” you grumbled. 

Dean pulled you down toward him and gently kissed your lips.

“Dean—” you tried, but he cut you off with another kiss. “Dean—” and he kissed you again, “—you can’t just—” another kiss, “distract me with this stuff—” another kiss, “—when we’re in the middle of a serious discussion.”

Dean kissed you once more and pulled you to straddle his hips. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” you smiled against his lips.

When Dean tried to grind up into you, though, you suddenly jerked back from him. 

He looked up at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears swimming in your eyes. “I— I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s—”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured you. “We don’t have to do anything. It’s alright.”

You laid down on Dean’s chest, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breathing. Dean kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. Oh, how grateful you were to know him.

***

Later that day, you and Dean walked back to the Impala after investigating a few of the houses where accidents had happened recently. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; no cold spots, no EMF, nothing resembling a creature’s lair. It was all very “Stepford” in Dean’s opinion.

When you’d almost reached the car, Dean abruptly grabbed your arm. You gasped slightly and turned to face the direction he was. 

“That’s him,” Dean whispered. “That’s the kid.”

You looked ahead at a little boy with spiky brown hair wearing a canvas jacket sitting sadly on a park bench. 

Dean slid his hand down your arm to your hand and pulled you along with him. “Hey, Ben,” he told the kid.

The boy looked up at Dean. “Hey. You were at my party.” Ben seemed to notice you for the first time. “ ‘Sup?” the little guy nodded at you, attempting to smirk through his apparent sadness. 

‘Jesus, this really might be Dean’s kid,’ you thought. 

“I'm Dean, this is (Y/N),” he said, sitting down next to Ben on the bench. You stood next to Dean cautiously. “Everything okay? Something wrong?” Dean asked Ben, who didn’t respond. 

You noticed the empty gaming console case Ben was holding and looked out to the field to see a group of four boys playing with something that looked just about the size to fit the case.

“Is that your game they're playing with?” the older Winchester asked Ben.

The little boy  wouldn’t look at you or Dean. “Ryan Humphrey borrowed it, and now, he won't give it back.”

Dean was immediately ready to beat up eight-year-olds. “Well, you want me to go—”

“No!” Ben exclaimed, grabbing Dean’s arm. “Don't go over there! Only bitches send a grown-up.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not wrong.”

This whole interaction was completely flooring you; rendering you unable to add anything to the conversation.

“And I am not a bitch,” Ben finished.

Dean pointed to a boy wearing long cargo shorts holding the gaming console. “Is that Humphrey? The one that needs to lay off the burgers?”

The little boy smiled and nodded.

Dean hummed. 

“Dean, what are you—”

He ignored you and turned to Ben to talk to him in a hushed voice. You couldn’t quite hear what Dean was telling him to do, and you were puzzled when Ben got up from the bench and started walking over to the group of boys.

“They’re gonna eat that poor kid alive, dude, what were you thinking?” you chastised him, shoving his shoulder lightly. 

“Just watch,” Dean urged.

Ben turned back around to the two of you, and Dean offered him a thumbs-up and a grin. 

A moment later, Ben turned away from the bullies before whipping back around and kicking the boy holding his game straight between his legs twice.

“Dean, what the fuck,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Ben walked back to you and Dean, triumphantly smiling and holding his game. “Thanks! Dude, that was awesome!”

Suddenly, a gorgeous woman stormed up to you, Dean, and Ben. “Benjamin Isaac Braeden! What has gotten into you?!”

“Gumby Girl,” you realized. 

Dean smacked your thigh lightly to get you to be quiet.

“He stole my game!” Ben tried to explain.

“So you kick him? Since when is—” she looked down at Dean and scoffed. “Did you tell my son to beat up that kid?”

“What?” Dean was still smiling. “Somebody had to teach him how to kick the bully in the nads.”

“Who asked you to teach him anything?” Lisa argued.

“You’re right, he’s sorry,” you said, trying to pull Dean away.

“What are you even still doing here? We had one weekend together a million years ago. You don't know me. And you have no business with my son,” Lisa raged, grabbing Ben’s hand to walk off with him. “Just leave us alone.”

“He will!” you asserted, to both Lisa and Dean. 

Ben broke out of his mother’s grip and ran back to Dean, wrapping his arms around his legs in a tight hug. 

“Thanks,” Ben smiled up at Dean.

Your heart melted and broke at the sight. 

As Ben returned to his mother, you saw three children a few yards beyond them standing in a straight line and turning their heads in tandem. Dean seemed to have noticed, too, and the two of you decided to get out of there as quickly as possible.

When you got into the Impala, you couldn’t say a word. 

Dean looked over at you. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” you replied.

“You look like you’re suckin’ on a lemon. C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

“He really does seem like your kid,” was all you could manage to say.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“And, uh, if that does end up being the case—”

“Whoa, what?” Dean cut you off. “Since when am I following up with that?”

You sighed. “I don’t know, Dean, if you are his father, the kid deserves to have you in his life.”

“Sweetheart, the best thing I can do for that kid is get the hell away from him,” Dean replied. “He doesn’t need to be anywhere near me or this life.”

“Why?” you said. “ ‘Cause you think you’d be bad at it? You were great with him today.— y'know, aside from encouraging assault.”

“Yeah, (Y/N), for two seconds,” he said. “Why are you pushing this anyway?”

You paused. “I don’t know, I thought it might just be good for you. Give you an opportunity to live out your last year in peace. Happy.”

Dean’s posture softened, and he said nothing for a moment. “Thanks, but no. I’d take you and huntin’ evil sons of bitches over Middle America any day.” He reached out to you and pulled you to him, placing a kiss to the side of your head. 

***

When you arrived at the boys’ motel room, Sam was at his laptop researching. 

“Somethin’s wrong with the kids in this town,” you told him as you took your jacket off.

Sam replied without looking away from his computer, “Yeah. Tell me about it. So, what do you know about changelings?”

“Evil monster babies?” Dean questioned.

“No, not babies,” you chimed in.

“They're kids,” Dean realized. “Creepy, ‘stare at you like you're lunch’ kids?”

Sam nodded. “There's one at every victim's house.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” you mumbled.

“What?” Sam questioned. 

“We got a pile of missing kids being kept in a hole somewhere and a fuckton of changelings we gotta torch. Dean, where’s your kerosene?”

“Already on it,” he said, leaving the room.

“So, I’m guessing you talked things out,” Sam said once the door closed behind Dean.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled playfully. 

“So… you’re not leaving?” Sam questioned.

“No. Not yet, anyway,” you said, tone becoming more serious. “I’ll be there to tell him ‘bye,’ but I won’t watch him get dragged to hell. I can’t do that, Sam.”

The younger Winchester paused. “I get it. Hopefully, we won’t have to.”

Dean came back into the room not a moment later holding his torch and grinning.

“You and your gadgets,” you laughed warmly. 

“So, changelings can perfectly mimic children,” Sam began. “According to lore, they climb in the window, snatch the kid. Y'know, there were marks on the windowsill at one of the kid's houses. Looked to me like blood.”

“The changeling grabs a kid, assumes its form, joins the happy fam just for kicks?” Dean questioned.

“I wish that were the case,” you said. “Changelings feed on the mom’s synovial fluid. Sam, did you notice any strange bruising on their backs? It’d be just below the base of their neck?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Sam asked you. 

“It’s the typical spot they feed from,” you replied. “On the end of their creepy, face-hugger-from-Alien tongues, they have these little spines that extend through the body to reach all those spaces between the joints. Pretty gnarly injuries.”

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Changelings can drain them for a few weeks before mom finally croaks.”

“And then, there's dad and the babysitter,” Dean added, referencing two of the victims.

“Yeah. Seems like anyone who gets between the changeling and its food source ends up dead,” Sam finished.

“And fire’s the only way to kill ‘em,” you said, nodding at Dean’s torch. “See why I was worried about all this?”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “Great.”

“According to lore, they stash the kids underground somewhere,” Sam continued, “I don't know why, but if it's true, the real kids might be out there.”

“We better start looking,” Dean asserted, seeming to have something on his mind.

“What?” you asked.

He hesitated before answering you with a question. “Any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable?”

You nodded.

“We gotta make a stop. I wanna check on someone,” Dean told you, and you knew he meant Ben.

Dean held your gaze as Sam began to protest. “Well Dean, if the real kids are still alive, we don't have time. We—”

“We have to,” Dean stated firmly. 

***

Throughout the drive to Lisa’s house, you tried your best to remain calm. You weren’t truly worried about the potential that Ben could’ve been kidnapped or by the fact that Dean was upset, it was the thought of Lisa and Ben potentially taking Dean away from you. You knew your fear was irrational and maybe even a bit toxic, but you still worried that maybe Dean was still attracted to Lisa. Or maybe Dean was Ben’s dad and would be obligated to see and spend time around the two of them. The thought nearly made you throw up while you watched Dean knock on Lisa’s door. 

You saw Lisa yelling at him, and Dean ran back over to the Impala seeming incredibly worried. “They took Ben. He's changed,” Dean explained, hurriedly getting into the car.

“What?! Are you sure?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I'm sure. I checked his windowsill,” the older brother nodded.

“Blood?” 

“I don't think it is blood, and I think I know where the kids are.”

***

Dean drove quickly toward a house under construction with a large mound of red dirt sitting on the lawn outside of it. The exterior of the home was almost finished, and the “For Sale” sign on the lawn was stained partially by the dirt.

“Red dirt,” Sam noted, bending down to inspect the sign. “That's what was on the window.”

“Ah, you take the front,” Dean told Sam. “(Y/N), take the left side; I got the other.”

You nodded and set off, gun and flashlight drawn. You crept around the corners of the house until you came to a set of doors angled down to a cellar. You jumped down into it and found small, empty cages lining the walls.

“What do you think you're doing?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you. 

You looked up at the entrance of the cellar to see a redheaded woman glaring at you. 

“You’re staying here until I can get the police here,” the woman said, pulling out her phone.

“Wait, wait,” you tried. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for a place to stay for the night.”

“Then why do you have a gun?” she hissed.

“Self-defense,” you replied coolly. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

The redhead tsked and shook her head. “I don’t think you will.” She stood from the entrance to the cellar and closed both doors on you.

“Wait, no!” You rushed toward the doors, but it was too late. She had latched them shut by the time you got to them. Immediately, you started banging on the doors and trying to get them open. You turned around to one of the cages and picked it up, hurling it at the closed doors. You tried again and again, using the cage to hit the door, your shoulder to slam into it, and even tried using a piece of wire from the cage to take off the hinges, but nothing worked. Helplessly, you banged on the door and screamed for Sam and Dean.

Suddenly, you began to smell smoke.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought, breath quickening with urgency. You slammed your body into the doors as hard as you could manage. 

Across the cellar from you, the flames began to catch the ceiling, creating a gaping hole in the floor for debris and fiery planks of wood to fall through. You slammed into the doors once more, screaming for Dean. 

The smoke in the room began to fill your lungs and forced a cough out of you. You screamed Dean’s name again hoarsely, turning around briefly to see the fire had spread incredibly close to you. If you didn’t get out soon, the whole building would collapse on your head.

“Dean, please!” you screamed. 

Suddenly, you heard the door to the cellar unlatching.

“(Y/N)?!”

“Dean!” you cried.

He threw the doors open and pulled you out of the smoldering building. He quickly checked you over for injuries, cupping the sides of your face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go!” You grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him around to the front of the house, running as fast as your legs would carry you as flames taunted you dangerously close to your face. You ran across the street to where Sam was standing with a crowd of terrified children and Ben. 

“Sam!” you exclaimed. “Everybody okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Sam replied. 

Ben seemed shaken up, but he was trying to comfort the other kids around him. You smiled down at him. Dean was exactly the same way. No matter what was going on in his own head, he always checked on the needs of others first. It was one of the things you loved most about him; he was always showing you what compassion truly looked like. 

***

When the fire department had come and the children— all except for one— had been returned home, you and the boys drove Ben back to Lisa’s house. 

“Ben?!” the woman called, running out of the house. “Baby, are you okay?”

Ben ran to his mom and hugged her. “I'm okay, Mom.”

“Oh, my god,” Lisa sobbed. “What the hell just happened?”

“I'll explain everything if you want me to,” Dean started, “but, trust me, you probably don't. The important thing is that Ben's safe.”

“Thank you,” Lisa surged forward and hugged Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean seemed hesitant for which you were thankful, but still returned her hug.

Ben turned to head into his house, and Lisa moved to follow. She turned back to Dean apprehensively. “Do you— wanna come inside?” she asked. 

“Uh, no thanks,” Dean replied. “We, uh, gotta hit the road.”

Lisa nodded, deflating slightly. 

“But… you’re a hundred-percent sure Ben’s not mine, right?” Dean asked. 

She nodded and smiled. “You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby.”

“Oh,” Dean replied. “Good.”

“I... I swear you look disappointed,” Lisa noted.

“Yeah, I don't know. It's weird, you know your life... I mean, this house and a kid…” he trailed off. “It's not my life. Never will be. Some stuff happened to me recently, and, uh... Anyway, a guy in my situation— you start to think, y’know. I'm gonna be gone one day, and what am I leaving behind besides a car?”

“I don't know. Ben may not be your kid, but,” Lisa began, “he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. That's a lot if you ask me.”

Dean nodded and turned back to you and his brother who stood by the car watching silently. “You know, just for the record…” He turned back to Lisa.  “You got a great kid. I would've been proud to be his dad.”

Lisa smiled at him, as did you, before Dean headed back to the driver’s seat. For once, Sam let you sit in the passenger’s seat, and you popped a Faith No More cassette into the Impala’s built-in player. 

***

A few hours into the drive, Sam had fallen asleep. You and Dean were left holding each other’s hand in silent support; a reassurance the other was there and okay. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier? To Lisa?” you murmured.

“About what?”

“Leaving nothing behind except a car?” you continued.

“Aw, c’mon—” Dean sighed. 

“No, Dean. That’s crap,” you quietly said. “You have a legacy. Everything you’ve ever done has been out of love and compassion. That is who you are. That’s what you’re leaving behind.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward you, his expression unreadable. He was quite literally the only person to ever confuse your intuitive, watchful eye with his thoughtful, complicated expressions. 

The older Winchester turned his eyes back to the road and brought your entwined hands to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles. 

You reveled in the feeling, knowing the feeling of his lips on your skin in this moment, the pattern of Sam’s breathing steadily in the backseat, and the way his hand felt in yours would be a memory you’d need to hold onto when he was gone. Maybe that way, you’d be able to find peace; knowing that not even death could completely tear Dean away from you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[mochiroreo]

I had to sign to the Devil now I’m on

Alpha!Rafe Cameron & Alpha!JJ Maybank x Omega!reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, NON-CON, DUBCON, afab!reader, reader being called “honey” most of the time, toxic alpha behavior, threesome, rough unprotected P in V, creampie, fingering, squirting, oral ( f receiving), choking,degradation, biting, primal play (non-consensual), a/b/o terminologies, marking/bonding, spitting, (let me know if I have missed anything!)

Author’s note: screw my halloween thingy. i clearly underestimated myself by thinking that I can write something short and call it a day while working full-time and writing book reviews as a side job lol. love you all and thanks for sticking around!

P.s. this is not beta’d hehe. We die like men.

“Do you need anything else?” Concern was evident on your mother’s voice, her shadow showing that she’s still outside your door, patiently waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine mom..” you breathlessly answered “I t-think I can h-handle this for now.. thank you.” Before you even finished thanking her, another wave of nausea made you stumble towards you toilet. You tried to empty your stomach that was already empty for days now, puking your heart out.

Hearing you vomiting, your mom entered the room and held your hair out of the way, kneeling with you while rubbing soft circles on your back. She helped you cleaned up yourself, gently laying you down on your bed before arranging an array of snacks and microwaveable soups near your desk along with medication that might help ease out the pain and.. heat spells.

“I will ask your dad to give you space, we will go out for a few days, I know how much you hate our scents at this time. I am so sorry honey I cannot help you—“ “it’s alright mom. This is already too much.” You smiled at her, easing her nerves before quickly pressing a kiss on your forehead, trying not to overwhelm you with her own scent. “Just message us once you feel like its over, okay? Or anything, really.” Giving a curt nod, she left your room, hearing her softly talking to your dad.

Both of your parents are Alphas, based on the genetics class that you took, you have to be an Alpha as well. Everyone around you presented months ahead of you, some even years. Being the only late-bloomer at a small town, word quickly travelled and you were labelled as the “odd” one. You ignored them though, confidently assuring yourself that you are going to be one of the small numbers of being an Alpha. Omegas were very rare as well, yet you would rather be an Alpha with how severe Omega heats are. And as far as you know, if an Omega presents, their heat immediately follows. You really don’t want to be handling two major things in one sitting.

Something in your gut was not feeling right as you listen to your lecturer, taking notes on all the possible symptoms for every class.

You were having a small crisis during one of your breaks at the university, frustrated at still not having a status on the ��hierarchy’ while ignoring texts from 2 annoying people that you try not to meet on campus every day. Your phone kept on vibrating, making you sigh in annoyance and proceeding to block those 2 numbers despite knowing that they will find another way to send you messages.

The two annoying people that got blocked was JJ and Rafe, who happens to be the top Alphas on the campus that you pay no mind to. Who also happens to be the people you have drunkenly slept with after a night long of partying for the first time. Waking up sandwiched in between of them, all three of you covered in bites and hickeys, your mind quickly presented every possible thing that the woman at campus might do to you. You carefully slide out of their hold and quickly dressed up, tiptoed your way out without even leaving a note.

You tried to act normal the next day, thinking that if you don’t pay any attention to them they wouldn’t notice you nor remember what happened that night. But with how heavy their gazes are towards you, you quickly realised that they are not on the same page as you are. Confusion ate you as to why would it bother them, but you continued to avoid them and their gazes. It was quiet for a while, before they started texting you. It went from “Hi. Its JJ :)” “Hey its Rafe” to “Would really love to feel you again” “you were so hot that night” which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment, quickly deleting their messages, only to be met with a new number and tons of missed calls.

You do not get their obsession at all, cause you are pretty sure you were hammered that night. Shots after shots, cocktails after cocktails, you were sure you just got wild and did the usual things to them that would be done with a normal hook up. You did not expect your first time partying to end up in their arms, but sure as hell you do not want to experience whatever might happen if word goes out that you slept with the “hottest” people in your university.

Sighing, you stared at your melting smoothie. The gloomy weather was affecting you as you slowly face the sky. You looked down at your sprawled out notes, trying to talk to yourself to study instead of overthinking about when you would present. The sky looks gloomier, making you quickly pack your things as it looks like its going to rain, when suddenly you felt dizzy.

You quickly balanced yourself, clutching your bag near your chest in shock. You were just thinking on what might be the reason before another wave of dizziness hits you once again. Sitting down slowly on the bench, you quickly messaged your bestfriend if she can take you home. Your best friend immediately came to where you are, helping you on her car. “Holy fuck you look so pale” she commented in the middle of the drive towards your house, your hair sticking at your nape and your forehead as you feel hot and cold at the same time.

Your best friend told your parents what happened, letting you rest. A few days rest would be enough, you thought. That clearly did not work. 5 days went by like a blur, days were spent on having the highest fever ever to vomiting the soup that you ate for lunch. And with how severe and noticeable the symptoms are, your parents chose to go out for a while to not overwhelm you with their pheromones, leaving you alone.

The nausea that you had throughout those days was replaced with something more embarrassing and something that made you cry in frustration. The sudden heat and wetness that kept on pooling on your legs with the excessive amount of releasing pheromones into the air only meant one thing.. you’re presenting as an Omega and you’re having your first heat.

You laid down sweaty on your bed, the room stuffy and boiling hot for you despite the cold autumn air entering through your windows and the AC that you have turned on. A wave of pleasure had hit your body, your hands pushing down the garter of your soaking wet underwear, immediately slipping two fingers in your deprived pussy. You mewled at the sudden feeling, thrusting your fingers almost immediately to relieve yourself. Holding your legs up, you continued to pump your fingers in and out to reach the climax that seems so far away. You cried out in frustration, stopping your actions when you’ve realized that whatever you’re doing is not and won’t be enough unless its an Alpha.

You quickly grabbed your phone beside, messaging your bestfriend about your situation.

“I am hundred percent certain that I’m presenting as an Omega and I’m having my first heat. Do you mind telling Pope to— you know..? Visit me.. if he’s there at the party”

Pope was your safest bet for an Alpha to help you out. The guy was the kindest and definitely one of the smartest people you have ever met, so you trust that whatever he would do would help you and ease the pain. There was a sudden pain in your chest from your heat that pushed you to release more of your scent, you’re breathing so fast that you try to ease the pain by curling into a ball. Waiting for it stop, you heard your phone pinged and quickly took a look at your bestfriend’s message that says “Oh shit, I’m on it 🫡”

You waited for what seems to be hours, as your heat becomes more and more unmanageable. You tried to look decent at least, a red, thin silk nightgown that sits on your body perfect and a properly brushed hair before swiping some strawberry lipgloss. You felt bare and nervous with Pope seeing you in this state, but you cannot help at thinking that this might be a step on having a serious relationship with someone reliable and can help you out with your cycles.

The doorbell rang, making you gulp nervously before trotting downstairs to open the door slightly and what you saw just made your stomach drop along with your smile. “What the hell are you both doing here?” You asked with squinted eyes, holding the doorknob tightly.

JJ’s huge smile greeted you while Rafe just smirked in amusement. “Are you that disappointed to see us?” JJ asked, making you squint harder at him in annoyance. Rafe just chuckled before pouting to mock at your expression, leaning on the door frame which made you close the door a bit more. “Aww, she doesn’t wanna see us.” “Shut up. I asked you guys a question, what are you both doing here?” You continued, trying not to get overwhelmed with both of their scents as you will yourself not to give in.

“Well, we heard something from a little birdie that someone has presented as an Omega and well.. that someone, requires some top Alpha service.” JJ answered behind Rafe, a menacing smile on his face as he stares on your paling face. “Mhm,” Rafe nods in agreement before slightly pushing the door, gripping the edge tightly. “Do you know who that new Omega is?” The slight push exposed your thin nightgown, and based on Rafe’s darkening expression and JJ’s slightly wide eyes, you knew that you’re running out of time to push them away.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” With an eye roll, you were about to slam the door, when both of them pushed it to stop you. You were still holding the door knob so you tried to push it close only to be met with resistance. “Seriously, you’re fucking choosing Pope? When you have us?” Rafe asks, his blue eyes staring at you so intently as he try to sneak a peek at your body behind the door. You heard JJ sigh, laying his palm flat on your door, hearing the clunk of his rings. “You know.. I feel a bit betrayed. You, choosing a good friend of mine, instead of me? Have you forgotten what you said to us THAT night?”

His emphasis made you shut your eyes, the image of their bare torsos flooding your memory and their breathless sighs made you clench your legs, unknowingly releasing some pheromones into the air that wafted straight into their nostrils. Both taking a deep breath, your scent smelling like amber, honey, and vanilla, making both of them salivate. You snapped out of your daze when you noticed them being quiet, realising your mistake when you noticed that their eyes are almost black,irises swallowing the pretty blue hues of their orbs.

You tried to push the door shut once again, both Rafe and JJ trying to push it open. “Open the door, honey. Come on.” Rafe said menacingly, staring you down. The vast difference of your size to them made you shiver in fear and anticipation on what they might do to you. You slapped yourself mentally before trying to push it shut again. JJ clicked his tongue before sighing “That’s it.” He mumbled under his breath before giving Rafe a short nod. Rafe just smirked before they both gave the door one solid push, making you tumble backwards.

Preventing yourself from falling backwards, you immediately balanced yourself, slowly stepping back while maintaining eye contact with the two. Your heart is pounding inside your chest so loud that you can hear it together with your heavy breaths. Rafe and JJ’s stature just scares you, their toned arms ready to capture you as they walk towards you like a predator catching its prey. When a click was heard with JJ shutting the door, you quickly grabbed whatever was near you, which happens to be a vase, and threw it towards the two.

With Rafe being the closest, he barely managed to dodge it, scraping the side of his arm. He just looked at you, snapping his neck as he chuckles. “Oh woohh..” he exhaled, a menacing smirk on his lips as JJ just laughed beside him. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He growled lowly, not taking his eyes of your quivering form. “Run, honey. Cause once we catch you—“ you did not even let JJ finished his sentence before you start running upstairs, hearing their laughter echoing throughout the empty house.

You were panicking, trying to wrack your brain on where to hide. Your house was a decent size, so even though there’s not much place to hide, you still knew what places they might not even spare a glance. You crawled inside a spacious cupboard that is concealed behind the door in your guest bathroom, talking to yourself inside your head to slow down your breathing.

“Honey~ come out, come out wherever you are~” JJ called out in a singsong way while Rafe just chuckled. You heard their steps getting closer before hearing them walk away to check whatever room they haven’t checked. Covering your mouth in fear, you closed your eyes to stop yourself from shivering. You just wanted this to end, this fucking heat. This situation. This was far from what you wanted already, from discovering you’re an omega to seeing the people that you hate so much outside of your house instead of Pope.

It was suspiciously quiet, yet you did not move. You were still trying to control your thoughts and your shivering body, your hair sticking into your skin with how warm you are feeling because of your heat and because of the cramped space. You felt another ripple of pleasure, making you close your eyes shut. “Not now, not now, not now” you plead to yourself, the heat being way more worse after the confrontation. You didn’t hear anything from outside. Trusting your gut feeling, you removed your hands from your mouth and finally opened your eyes.

Only to be met with Rafe and JJ’s big smile that made the blood drain from your face.

“Boo.”

A deafening scream escaped your throat as Rafe grabbed you out of your hiding space, your arm suffering from a bruising grip. You did not stop trying to hit him or JJ even when he carried you over his shoulder, trying to hit his back while also aiming to kick JJ. Rafe smacked your ass, the pain immediately traveling to your wet core. JJ smelled it in the air, watching you sob as Rafe plopped you down on your bed. They both stared at your disheveled state, your nightgown sticking to your skin, highlighting your pebbled nipples that are now evident thanks to the cold air from you open window.

Both men did not waste any time, taking off their clothes as you watch in shock. You cannot help your eyes trailing down, from their faces that showed no other emotion than want, to their taut arms and muscles. Your eyes widened when you saw how huge their cocks are just because of your heat, Rafe’s longer and a bit curved while JJ’s a good length yet clearly thicker than the other, making you gulp in fear and anticipation, your hormones taking over your mind as it turns into a mush.

They were both beside you in an instant, with Rafe landing a slap on your cheek that does not sting much yet brought your mind down back to your body again. “Why can’t you just follow, huh? This wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to us.” You continued to just stare at him, trying to cover your breasts using your arms before you felt JJ wrapping his hand around your neck. “He is asking a question, honey. Come on now.”

Your eyes started to water yet you felt your pussy clench on nothing, instead of answering, you have accidentally let out a soft mewl.

“Fuck, look at you.” JJ spoke, licking his lips as his hold on your neck slightly tightened. “Who would have known that you will love this?” Rafe grabbed the neck line of your night gown before ripping it, making you gasp. You felt vulnerable by the sudden action, trying to cover up your body which made them both annoyed.

“Who told you to cover yourself up, slut?” You felt Rafe smack your leg, before shoving it upwards to show them your weeping cunt. Your face heated up in shame with how wet you are, your own juices trailing down your legs. You didn’t get to answer back as JJ lets go of his hold on your neck before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is sloppy and extra messy because of what your heat was doing to them. He tasted every corner of your mouth as you obediently open to let him, tongues dancing with each other, biting his bottom lip which made him groan into your mouth. The sound made your pussy clench on nothing, making Rafe laugh mockingly.

“Aww, look at this weeping cunt. I bet you had a hard time huh? It’s alright, I will make you feel good.” You didn’t have enough time to get down from the high of JJ’s kiss when you felt Rafe lick your folds slowly, coating his tongue in your essence. The action made you grip JJ’s hair while he press wet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking as he covers you with hickeys.

Your brain turned into a mush, the fight inside of you now long gone as you feel mind-numbing pleasure from the both of them. Rafe continued to plunge his tongue inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, his mouth and chin covered in your slick as he continue to eat you out. Sliding a finger inside of you, you immediately moaned and clenched, making the kook king smirk mockingly. “And she wants to put up a fight? Hah.” JJ commented before latching on your nipples, teasing it between his teeth and feeling it harden on his tongue. You don’t know what’s happening anymore, other than the feel of their mouths on your body. Rafe slipped in another finger, and another when you mewled.

His three fingers pumped in an out of you, setting a punishing pace. You had long shut your eyes, brows scrunched in pleasure with your mouth agape. JJ tapped your cheek repeatedly, making you open your eyes. “Keep your eyes open and watch us fuck you.” You watched Rafe suck your clit, fingers squelching as it tries to go deeper everytime, and when he curved his fingers and felt that rough texture, your eyes rolled at the back of your head, snapping open that release that you’ve wanted for days.

Rafe felt your pussy flood with your cum, clenching hard on his fingers. Continuing still, JJ grinned when he watched your legs shake, making Rafe pull back. “Oh shit” he muttered, both of them seeing the liquid gushing out of your cunt. “God.. thats fucking hot.” Brushing his hair upwards, while Rafe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, your chest heaving up and down.

You were tired but not yet satisfied as your mouth waters at the sight of their cocks, seemingly larger than earlier. You wanted to suck and taste it, feel it heavy on you tongue but it seems like they don’t want that today. Both men positioned your body for what they want to do, JJ sliding underneath you with Rafe positioning himself above you. Your eyes were slowly closing, before a slap echoed on the room. “Fucking wake up, you hear me?” With a clenched jaw, Rafe grabbed you by the jaw with force, making you nod your head. JJ cackled, pressing his bare chest on yours. “Where’s the fight that you had earlier? Gone already?” He continued to made fun of you, feeling him rub his tip to your puckered hole. “Knew it was this easy to get you like this. Why are you even playing hard to get?”

Being sandwiched between them two sent your brain into an overload. All you were thinking about was the relief and pleasure of having them and taking them both. The fight inside of you turned into craving the feeling of their lips on your skin, their pheromones clouding your mind as much as your cloud theirs. You felt your slick drip down, from your puffy pussy lips to your hole. You felt the soft tip of JJ’s cock poking your hole, lubricating it with your slick and with his pre-cum before pushing in slowly. The intrusion made your body tense up, craning your head back and resting it on his shoulder. JJ hissed with the tightness, holding in a breath as he push,push,push inside of you. Rafe noticed how you scrunched your eyebrows, making him rub circles on your clit to loosen you up.

The sudden action made you scratch JJ’s arm that was holding you in place, squirting as he is finally balls deep inside of you. JJ lets out a shaky breath while Rafe only chuckled, before pushing his huge cock inside of you without warning. You gasped, looking down to slightly to see his flushed body connecting with yours while feeling JJ behind you, hands now holding your legs open. Leaning closer, Rafe growled in your ear while JJ moaned on the other side. Both men tentatively gave you one hard thrust, making you clench on the both of them.

The action made both of them give you another hard thrust, hands digging on your waist and hips, trying to create a rhythm. Rafe’s thrust were continuous and forceful, immediately hitting your sweet spot which made you curl your toes while JJ’s were short yet deep, stuffing your entrance so full of his thick cock that all you can think about is how full you are and how mind-numbing the pleasure is.

JJ constantly sucks hickeys on the side of your neck while Rafe attacks your lips with a searing kiss, their hips never stopping as drools drips from the side of your lips. Both blondes cannot help but bask on the feeling of your wetness and the squelching sounds your holes are making while you moan so erotically for them to hear, your sweet scent making it more pleasurable for them. “I-I’m close.. oh god I’m so c-close..!” You tried to warn them, holding Rafe close as you drag your nails on his back making the taller male stutter out a low moan.

Your warning just made JJ’s urge to own you stronger, grabbing your hips in a bruising hold as he piston his hips, feeling his wet balls smacking your ass with every thrust, prompting Rafe to do the same. “Take it— fuck, take it you fucking whore..!” He whispered with Rafe wrapping his hand on your neck, squeezing slightly making you open your eyes. “Doesn’t this remind you of that night?” He asks, following JJ’s rhythm. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you get overwhelmed with pleasure, constantly moaning and releasing a series of ah,ah,ah as a bitch in heat. “You told us you are ours that night, stuffing you so full like this.” He smirked at you, watching how filthy you look like, taking both of their cocks and letting them have their way with you. JJ chuckled breathlessly when he hear what Rafe said “yeah— fuck— remember how she moaned that night while holding her legs open? Then acted like nothing happened, now look at you. Back to doing it again for us.”

You were too far gone. Their comments slipping down your brain as your body focused on the fullness and the harsh circles on your clit that you don’t even know who’s giving you with your eyes rolled at the back of your head. “C-coming..!” You didn’t even finished your warning as you cum, clenching on both of them tightly. Yoyur body convulsed, mouth slack and open which prompted Rafe to spit on it. Both men felt your hot slick wetting them both, chasing their own highs.

JJ looked at Rafe, licking his bottom lip before cocking an eyebrow. A silent challenge to the other alpha male before sinking his teeth on your shoulder blade. The sharp pain made you open your eyes full of unshed tears, breathing heavy as pain and pleasure mixed inside of you. JJ licked the wound, pressing with kisses before huskily moaning, releasing his cum deep inside of you, filling you up as he relishes on the high from the sex and from marking you as his. “Mine.” JJ whispered while looking at Rafe, clearly challenging the other with a smug smirk.

Rafe snarled, baring his teeth on the other blonde before thrusting deep inside of your abused cunt and biting the other side of your shoulder. His bite was rougher than the other, hot pain searing inside of you as you open your mouth in a silent scream before feeling him cum deep inside of you. Kissing the bitten area of your shoulders, they both stayed inside of you before pulling out at the same time. Your tired state was evident with how flushed your cheeks are and how your eyes were barely open.

Both of them stood up, JJ laying down your tired form properly on the bed while Rafe grabs a wet cloth to clean you up. While cleaning you properly, both men cannot help but watch you sleep while baring their marks, officially marking you as theirs. They want you for themselves but both of them won’t back down, settling on the terms that they share you, as long as its only the two of them that gets to taste and fuck you.

They held your body close, the haze of stuffing you full still buzzing on their system as they settle beside you. Looking at their bite marks, both of them grinned foolishly, finally claiming you as theirs.

“You fucking assholes!”

Both men immediately sits up in shock, still sleepy from the draining activities last night. When they both opened their eyes, they saw you standing in front of your mirror, staring at the bites that they left on each of your shoulder blades in horror.

You looked at both of them in disbelief, hiding the marks with your hands while you sob. JJ and Rafe just smiled at you, clearly proud of their work. “Get out— get out!” You screamed at their faces, ignoring the fact that your heat is still not finished yet. Feeling betrayed that they staked their claim. Now everyone will know who claimed you, their pheromones will always cling on your skin and your body reacting more actively when they’re closer because they had bonded you without your consent. You sobbed at the fact that instead of having someone mature to help you out on your heat cycles, you instead got two of the most possessive bastards in the world.

Rafe just leaned back while JJ rested his head on his hands. “Now, now” JJ started. “I think you need to calm down. We really need to teach our little omega how to speak to her Alphas properly, right, Rafe?” The other just chuckled, eyeing your naked body with lust. “Oh definitely. I cannot have a bratty little omega prancing around with such a dirty mouth. I guess, we both need to stuff her mouth with our cocks, put her into place huh?” You ignored them and screamed “oh fuck off! You fucking pieces of shit!” Your chest was heaving in anger.

Rafe grabbed the lamp besides him and threw it on the wall behind you while JJ lets out a warning growl.

You just stared at them in shock, covering your now cowering body as they stare at you intensely with clenched jaws. JJ stood up, walking towards you before dragging you forcefully towards the bed by your hair. Letting out a scream,he shoved you down the bed with your ass propped up for both of them to see, before landing a harsh spank on your ass. You cried out in pain, before feeling Rafe’s hand on your nape, pressing you down and choking you.

“You are ours. OURS.” He threatened through clenched teeth.

The sun went down. The day ended with you covered and full with their cum, using and abusing all your holes, covered in hickeys and bruises that will last for days. Clearly expecting you to learn your lesson, your mind blank as you take and take whatever they give you.

[dadbodbuck]

does the swallow dream of flying?

Rating: G | WC: 1.6k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary:

Tommy calls Eddie after he breaks up with Buck. Eddie has some choice words for him. Coda for 8x06.

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

OR read below!

“Eddie,” Tommy says, voice hoarse on the other end of the line. He sounds—if not drunk, then so heartbroken it sounds like inebriation. “I wanted to—I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s not quite sure if he means it the way he thinks he does, but his stomach almost falls out through the soles of his feet anyway. He sits bolt upright in bed, carefully extricating himself away from Buck, who’s doing his best impression of a endoparasite (“A parasite that lives on the skin of its host, Eddie, it’s really fascinating stuff—”) and somehow latched onto Eddie’s waist with an iron grip while also being dead asleep.

What little vestiges of sleep had been clinging to him fall completely away as he steps into his own hallway, quietly hissing, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I mean—at home?” Tommy says, confused, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely slurring his words a little, “Where else would I be?”

Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Are you going to be safe? Do I need to call someone?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Tommy assures him, “Sorry, I should have clarified. I’ll be okay. This is just… this is it. For us. Since Ev—since Buck and I broke up.”

“From what I heard, you’re the one who broke up with him,” Eddie huffs, “Or did I just spend the last three hours getting snot on my nice white shirt for a mutual thing?”

“This is what I mean!” Tommy insists, “He’s your best friend. I’m—I know I don’t rank that high. I just… fuck, I really enjoyed spending time with you these past six months. It’ll—it’ll always be,” a rough, shaky breath, “I’ll remember it fondly.”

Eddie feels a shocking flare of irritation, and it leads him out onto his back patio, so he knows he won’t wake Buck up. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I had—I had to end it,” Tommy says, with a shake in his voice like a motorcycle’s death wobble, “It wasn’t going to last. If I didn’t pull the plug it would have broken me. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want it to get to the point where either one of us would get our hearts broken.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, neither one of you sound especially put together right now,” Eddie positively seethes, “He’s fucking gutted, Kinard. He told me—” (“I didn’t know if I loved him this morning, and then he called me Buck and I felt sick. What—what else could it be?”) “—well, he told me a lot that, frankly, I don’t think you should hear from anyone but him. And you don’t even know what you did to him because you ran! You didn’t even try—”

“Please stop,” Tommy says, sounding smaller than Eddie has ever heard him, “It’s… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Eddie snaps.

“For him!” Tommy insists, “For both of us, but especially for him. I’m not the forever guy. I’m not his forever guy, and I’m not yours, either. I just want… I want a clean break. I—I want—”

There’s a sniffle, a choked-off sob, and Tommy says, “I just want to be left alone. It would hurt less if people would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s a shitty excuse, and you know it,” Eddie accuses, “Tommy, listen. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I’m saying this because—despite the fact that you’re apparently the biggest idiot I’ve ever met—I care about you. I care about you outside of your relationship to Buck. Or did you forget the fact that you were my friend before you were his boyfriend?”

“So, what,” Tommy says, irritation seeping into his voice, “You want to keep talking to me? I know how that goes. You’ll text me every once in a while, we won’t hang out if Buck’s going to be there, so you’ll lose interest and our fun trips and sparring sessions will be fewer and further between, and it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt worse than this. Why do you think I’m doing this, Eddie? I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can keep myself sane.

“You want to know why? You want to know why I broke up with him? Because I woke up the morning of our anniversary and realized I was falling in love with him. I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I—I realized I would let him do anything to me, and that’s not something I ever want to feel again. So I couldn’t. There—there’s your fucking answer. I broke up with him because a little heartbreak is better than ever letting myself get hurt like that ever again.”

The words kind of prickle at some sense in the back of Eddie’s brain. The anger fades a little, and into something a lot more like concern. “Hurt like what, Tommy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to tell someone no once they’re in my life like that,” Tommy confesses through gritted teeth, “Maybe it’s my dad’s fault, maybe Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s fault, maybe it’s just me. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended in me making the same mistake. I stayed too long, I let them—I let them believe I wanted to marry them, or I let them take out their anger on me, or I—I—other stuff. Evan—Buck doesn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie acquiesces, “He doesn’t. He deserves a partner who can communicate openly with him. Which you had been doing. You’re capable of being open, Tommy. You did it before.”

Tommy pauses on the other end of the line. “I—I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Did you want to break up with him?” Eddie presses.

“No,” Tommy says, easy as breathing, “Of course not. I want him around for the rest of my life. But that’s… selfish.”

“And breaking up with him because you don’t want to talk through something difficult and scary is so altruistic,” Eddie counters, “You know, there’s this thing Buck says about love—you don’t find it, you make it. I think he heard it on a scene we were at years ago. From this old gay couple, been together for decades and decades.”

Tommy’s quiet on the other end, and then Eddie hears the hitch of his breath. Tommy is sobbing, silent and restrained, but so hard the exhalation of breath sounds nearly painful.

(“I’m starting to think the curse wasn’t just Billy Boils. Maybe it’s me—I mean, I move into Abby’s place, and she leaves me. I pick out an apartment with Ali, and she leaves me. Taylor moves in, and she leaves me. And now this? I can’t… Eddie, I can’t keep doing this. I’m—maybe I’m just the guy who’s good for a fun time, not a long time. I—what am I doing wrong?”

“Buck, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think—do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”

“I think if I wasn’t this way, I already would have.”)

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tommy,” Eddie says, “But I really think you should talk to him. Tell him where your head’s at. Buck’s really good at—at understanding why you hurt him, and he’s even better at forgiving.”

“I—I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Eddie insists, “So pull yourself together, do some box breathing, get some sleep, and come over to my house tomorrow. I’ll make my hangover cure. I’ll lock the doors if I have to.”

Tommy’s quiet, which Eddie interprets as a fully-blown panic attack.

“If you don’t, I will call Athena Grant,” Eddie threatens, “You don’t want to know the things she’s willing to do for Buck. I’ve seen her break at least three laws with my own eyes.”

This, at least, gets a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay—Jesus, yeah. What time?”

“If you’re not over here by nine I’m sending the cavalry,” Eddie says primly, “And bring flowers. Nobody’s ever gotten Buck flowers before.”

Tommy takes a slow, shaky breath out. “Thanks, Eddie. You didn’t—you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Everyone always says Buck has a habit of worming his way into your heart, but nobody ever talks about me,” Eddie grins, “You’re stuck with me now, Kinard. Rain or shine. Even when you’re the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way,” Tommy says, “I’ll—I should go eat some carbs and drink water now.”

“Take care of yourself, man,” Eddie says, “And don’t you ever call me to say goodbye again. Or break up with Buck like that. Also—call him Evan. It’s fucking weird to hear you call him Buck.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces, quiet. “Damn. I was so worried about falling in love with Evan that I didn’t even realize I already loved you.”

“I’m sneaky like that,” Eddie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow—or else.”

(The next day, Tommy knocks on the door at nine sharp. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, his hair is a mess, he looks too gaunt and the bags under his eyes could fit a small country. But he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“I got this one because they’re the same color as your eyes,” Tommy says to Buck, who stands in the living room with his mouth ajar.

“What’s going on right now?” Buck says, eyes darting over to Eddie suspiciously.

“I’m going on a walk,” Eddie says, putting his sunglasses on his forehead and twisting at the hips to pop his back, “Don’t fuck on any of my furniture.”)

[sillydestiny]

Hello! I'm new here can I request dokja x reader? Like dokja first to fall in love and fall harder after thank you! You can ignore my message if you don't want to! I really like your work !💕

KIM DOKJA X READER

At first, Dokja couldn't quite put his finger on what it was about you that captivated him. Perhaps it was your unwavering determination, your quiet strength that seemed to emanate from every pore of your being. Or maybe it was your infectious laughter, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you found something genuinely amusing or the subtle kindness in your gestures. Whatever it was, he found himself stealing glances in your direction more often than he cared to admit.

As he observed you from afar, Dokja couldn't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within him. He found himself seeking out opportunities to be near you, to catch glimpses of your radiant smile and hear the melodious sound of your voice. It was as if you had cast a spell on him, one that he had no desire to break free from.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Dokja found himself ensnared in the intricate web of emotions he had so desperately tried to evade. He watched you with bated breath as you carved your place in his heart, leaving an indelible mark upon his soul.

Dokja admired their unwavering resolve, their quiet resilience in the face of adversity. In their shared moments, he discovered a sense of belonging he had long thought lost—a connection forged not by fate's decree, but by the silent whispers of the heart.

And then, one fateful night beneath the glow of a thousand stars, Kim Dokja realized the truth that had been staring him in the face all along. He was in love with you, utterly and irrevocably. It was a realization that shook him to his core, shattering the walls he had erected around his heart and leaving him vulnerable in its wake.

With each passing day, Dokja found himself falling deeper into the abyss of love, his once-guarded heart now laid bare before the Reader's gaze. He found solace in their presence, a sanctuary from the storms that raged within him. In their laughter, he found joy; in their tears, he found sorrow. And in their eyes, he found a reflection of his own soul—a soul yearning to be understood, to be loved.

But love, like the scenarios themselves, is never without its trials.

Dokja was no stranger to loneliness, no stranger to the walls he had built around his heart. He had grown accustomed to solitude, to keeping his distance from others to avoid getting hurt. So, he buried his feelings deep within himself, hidden behind walls of sarcasm and aloofness. He feared rejection, feared that if he were to lay bare his heart, the reader would turn away from him, leaving him more alone than he had ever been.

Yet, despite his fears, Dokja found himself unable to resist the pull of his emotions. They consumed him, threatened to overwhelm him with their intensity.

he couldn't shake the feeling that you were different, that you had somehow managed to breach the walls he had so carefully constructed. And as much as he tried to deny it, he found himself longing for your presence, for the sound of your voice, for the warmth of your touch.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling scenario. You had been separated from the group, and Dokja found himself uncharacteristically frantic. The logical part of his mind told him you were capable and would survive, but his heart was not as easily convinced. When he finally found you, battered but alive, the relief that washed over him was overwhelming.

That night, as you tended to your wounds, he stayed by your side. It was the first time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you, sharing bits of his past and fears. You listened without judgment, offering comfort not through words, but through your presence. In that quiet moment, he realized he had fallen for you harder all over again and irrevocably.

just how much you meant to him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, couldn't bear the thought of a world without you by his side.

Dokja found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing on his heart for so long.

I love you..

And as he looked into your eyes, saw the depth of his feelings reflected there, they smiled - a smile that lit up the darkness around them and filled Dokja's heart with a warmth he had never known

Dokja made a promise to himself: to protect you, to cherish you, to love you with every fiber of his being. For he had finally come to understand that love wasn't about grand gestures or sweeping declarations; it was about the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the simple joys of being together.

And as he took your hand in his, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude, he knew . For in the end, it was your love that had saved him, had given him a reason to believe in the beauty of tomorrow. And for that, he would be eternally grateful.

had found his true home, his true love, in the arms of you

[skyfallscotland]

This somehow takes place both within and outside of BRV at the same time. Because unexplained time travel. That's why. It's also completely unpolished because it's 2am and I don't know what I'm doing here.

intertwining souls (we were never strangers) - part one

In the seconds that have passed since he appeared from the tunnel, restraining my hands behind my back, a slight breeze has picked up, blowing my hair over my shoulder. Fuck. Silver-tipped brown strands float out towards him, as if reaching for his hand the way my heart aches to. I know immediately he’s made the connection. “There’s a very reasonable explanation for this.” I croak, my pulse fluttering with fear as he closes the distance between us, drawing one of his twin swords from his back. 

“Oh fuck,” I curse, groaning as I hold my forearm tight against my closed eyelids. The cold texture of Sgaeyl’s scales is soothing against my throbbing temple and I let out a low whimper, rolling onto my side to press my head into the soft grass. “Holy shit.”

“Lía…” I groan aloud, listening for the heavy beat of wings over the buzzing in my ears. I can’t hear any. Did I blow my eardrums out? Carefully, I reach up with my other hand, feeling for any moisture. Nothing. I falter a little upon the realisation that I can hear wings in the distance, but not…here…

“Lía?” I call out, forcing back the bile that rises in my throat. I’d…fallen. I’d fallen and she hadn’t caught me and…she hadn’t followed me down at all. Slowly, I blink my eyes open, the fading sunlight sending a sharp pain rippling through my head. As I sit up, I run a hand over my hair. My braid’s come loose and the silky strands are now fluttering in the slight breeze, meaning I’ve lost the poisoned wire I usually wind through it. There’s no blood though, at least, so it must just be a concussion. 

My brow furrows as I close my eyes, reaching. I reach…and reach, but…nothing. A panicked gasp escapes me. There’s nothing there. “Lía!” I call more urgently this time. The sky is empty. No. No, no, no, no. Even the time I’d been dosed with that awful serum I could still feel her there, lurking—as if hidden behind a frosted pane of glass. Now though…it was as if I’d never bonded her in the first place. 

Frantically, I look down at my arm, sighing in relief as I see the green dragon relic twisting up and around my bicep, the Daggertail hidden beneath my vambrace. Ok, so we’re still bonded, I just can’t sense her. I don’t think anything could have happened to her—if it had, I’d be dead already—so…what, then? 

The last thing I remember is being knocked off her spine from behind. I hadn’t seen it coming in the slightest. We’d been practicing my balance just over the flight field as she took to the sky, so I hadn’t been strapped in. Did she…not have time to catch me? That doesn’t make sense! Even if she hadn’t caught me in time, she’d still be here now—and so would the rest of my squad for that matter, Liam and Deigh were just ahead of me!

Gingerly, I pull myself to my feet, rotating my sore joints. Maybe I was…dreaming? Or I’m in a coma now, because there’s no way I actually fell from the back of my dragon and slammed into the ground without breaking anything. 

In the time I’ve been contemplating, the sun has gone down fully and the moon has begun to rise, the entire sky a blanket full of stars. I turn on my heel, determined to get back to my room and find someone—anyone—who can tell me what the fuck is going on, when there’s a slight crack and my head snaps up in the direction of the hidden tunnel linking the field with the academic wing. 

For a moment, panic thunders through me and I grip the dagger at my thigh in a closed fist, but then there’s a familiar cool brush against my skin and my spine relaxes. “Xade?” I call out, a slight frown on my face. “What the hell, it’s Wednesday!” I hiss, storming toward the tunnel. “You should be—”

I’m shoved backward, barely able to keep my balance as I trip over my own feet, shadows restraining me in the dark. “Fuck,” I curse. “That’s not funny.” I snap. “I have a concussion and Lía won’t answer me and I can’t channel so don’t—” He steps into the moonlight and my jaw drops. Malek deliver me. “Xaden?” My voice cracks.

He looks so cold, so closed off I barely even recognise him. It’s been a very, very long time since he looked at me like that, if he ever did. There’s movement at his side and Garrick steps through, followed by…Masen. “Oh gods.” If my hands were free, I’m certain one would be over my mouth right now. My eyes quickly run over their uniforms—cadet’s uniforms—and I realise I’m in big, big trouble. They each have two, small silver stars on the shoulder. Second-years. 

“No. No, no, no, no.” I mutter. 

“Yes.” He finally speaks, his eyes trailing over my form from head to toe. “And who might you be?” My partner—but not—paces toward me slowly, his lips tilting up viciously as he croons. “You’re wearing rider black and a wingleader’s jacket, but I’ve never seen you—” He pauses, his eyes widening slightly. 

In the seconds that have passed since he appeared from the tunnel, restraining my hands behind my back, a slight breeze has picked up, blowing my hair over my shoulder. Fuck. Silver-tipped brown strands float out towards him, as if reaching for his hand the way my heart aches to. I know immediately he’s made the connection. “There’s a very reasonable explanation for this.” I croak, my pulse fluttering with fear as he closes the distance between us, drawing one of his twin swords from his back. 

“Xaden, please!” I beg, panic muddling my senses. Something furious flickers in his eyes. “Baby, listen to me—” His shadows slip for a split-second as if in surprise and almost simultaneously, the ground shakes, rattling my teeth together. Half a sob escapes my mouth and I turn on my heel and run. I don’t know what makes me think she’s the better option, that she’ll recognise me when my partner, the love of my life doesn’t. 

“Sgaeyl!” I yell, boot-covered feet carrying me full-tilt toward her. “Sgaeyl!” His shadows tug at my ankles and I don’t know if it’s a happy accident or if he meant for it to happen, but it means I go flying into the grass just as her teeth snap shut where my head once was. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shriek. 

“LÍA!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “LÍA!”

“Quiet!” Xaden snaps, his shadows smothering any sound I attempt to get out. “Fucking Sorrengail.” He crouches in the grass, his hand on my throat. “That’s who you are, isn’t it? You’re one of Lilith Sorrengail’s.” I snarl at him, lifting a leg to kick him in the groin, but his shadows catch my shin before I can do any damage. 

Gold-flecked onyx eyes stare down at me without an ounce of recognition. “Who’s Lía? Is that your…” Slowly, he stops as if realising for the first time where he’s heard that name before. I stare up at him pleadingly. His hand trails over my arm, tracing the relic at my shoulder. “Lilith Sorrengail’s youngest aren’t old enough to have bonded dragons.” His hand slips down further to the vambrace on my wrist and he picks it up, turning it to face the moonlight. “What the…” He drops it like it burns him. 

Hot steam wafts over me and I hold still as a giant blue-scaled snout drops down to sniff at me. “That’s impossible.” Xaden snaps and I almost feel sorry for him as Sgaeyl shoves him backward onto his ass. Almost. 

“You…asshole!” I seethe, launching myself forward. I don’t feel even a little bit bad for the crack that sounds through the air as I punch him in the face. Serves him right. I pull my arm back again. “You’re in so much fucking trouble, you hear me! I’m going to—” 

A throat clears. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop doing that.” A familiar voice says, tinged with amusement, before adding, “whoever you are.” 

I huff. “Shut up Garrick. Buzz off and tell Imogen how you feel.” A choked sound escapes the man beneath me. “I’m not kidding.” I tell him when he doesn’t move. “Take Masen and give us some space. I want you out of hearing distance.” 

When I glance up, the older man is gaping. “Who the hell are you? Why would I listen to you?” A warm nudge at my back has me unbalanced for a moment, but I manage to hold my ground, straddling Xaden’s torso. 

“Remi Sorrengail.” I tell him, reaching out a hand behind me to press it to Sgaeyl’s maw. “And you’re going to listen to me because it’s in your best interest. Shoo.” He mouths the last word to himself disbelievingly, before his eyes flit over my shoulder at the Blue Daggertail behind me and my hand currently resting above her nose.

“Ok. You’re on your own, brother.” He says succinctly, before turning on his heel and heading for the rocky outcropping they came from. When I look back down, Xaden’s eyes are narrowed and his mouth is downturned and twitching slightly. He’s definitely arguing with Sgaeyl. Impatience not in the least bit tempered by the one hit I’d gotten in, I slip my hand from his shoulder to his jaw and tug, leaning down to claim his lips with mine. 

For a moment, he’s still, his body rigid beneath me and I feel something in my chest shrivel and die. Desperately, I pour every ounce of love and fear I have into it, begging, willing his soul to recognise mine. Slowly, tentatively, his lips part. My fingers reach up to tangle in his hair and by the time we part for air, I’m curled over him, my eyes just inches from his own. “Look at me.” I demand, my thumb stroking over his cheekbone before I drop my voice to a low whisper. “Read me.”

He jolts, his eyes widening. It’s…clumsy almost when he reaches out toward me and I realise with an aching heart it’s probably because he hasn’t had much, if any practice at this point. He’s only twenty-two. Holy shit. Patiently, I push a memory to the forefront of my mind—laying in each other’s arms, trading bites of chocolate cake on his favourite hillside in Aretia. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers and my lips curve upward. 

“Hi.” I murmur quietly, dropping a chaste, gut-wrenching kiss to his lips. “I’m Remi.” My throat tightens as I force back tears. “And one time you told me it was love at first sight. I’m starting to think that you lied.”

He stares. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, climbing to my feet. “I know this isn’t—that you don’t know me.” I choke out. “But I don’t know what happened and I can’t feel my dragon and I’m scared, Xade.” Slowly, he climbs to his feet and takes a step toward me, closing the gap again. 

A hand reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear and a wet chuckle escapes me. I guess some things really don’t change. “Where—when are you from?” He finally asks, his eyes glued to my face.

“Two years from now.” I whisper. “Give or take.” I glance at the two stars on his uniform. “My twin and I—” I pause, my mouth snapping shut.

“Your twin…Violet, right?” I nod, mutely. “Listen, Sorrengail,” he begins and it sounds so strange coming from him that I flinch.

“I don’t know how much I should share.” I blurt. “What if…if this is time travel, then should I be keeping everything to myself? Just in case…” Just in case it changes things. My eyes flit over his shoulder for a second to where Garrick and Masen stand and guilt flares in my chest. I should want to tell him everything, to tell him every detail so he can try and prevent people from getting hurt, but I…I’m selfish. I worry if I do tell him anything further, maybe it will change things and he won’t…love me. 

“Are there things you think you should share?” He asks archly and I chuckle, the sound almost hysterical even to my ears.

“You have no idea.” I croak.  

His lips tilt up, just slightly. “I think I have some idea.” He says softly. “It must have been a pretty crazy two years for me to end up with a Sorrengail.”

I lift a brow. “Because you could never be cordial with a Sorrengail?” I glare, arching a brow. It takes a moment before it clicks and his mouth forms a small ‘o’. “Yeah, that one was fun to find out after almost dying.” 

“You almost died?” He says immediately, his eyes running over me again from head to toe. I shrug, noncommittally. “What can you tell me?” He asks, exasperated and I grin, looking up at him adoringly. 

“I love that tick in your jaw, this one right here.” I carefully slide my thumb across it. “I used to be such a common cause of it.” 

I’m faced with a deadpan expression. “Somehow, I’m certain you still are.” 

I laugh aloud. “Maybe.”

Sgaeyl takes to the sky behind me and I whip around, my eyes following her form as she disappears in the direction of the Vale. “She’s going to get your Lía.” He informs me, his voice low. “To see in person if she knows anything—feels anything from you.” 

I shake my head immediately. “I don’t think so. I can’t feel her at all, like she’s not even there. Although…” I trail off contemplatively. “If anyone in the Vale can help, it might be Andarna.” 

Xaden’s eyes turn distant for a moment before he focuses back in on me. “Sgaeyl won’t tell me what that means.” 

I nod. “She shouldn’t.” I reply simply. She’ll know. I glance over his shoulder once more. “Heading out on a drop?” I ask, noting the bags by Garrick’s feet. 

My partner stiffens. “You…”

I smile up at him fondly. “I really wish I could tell you the story of how I found out right now.” 

“You could.” He suggests. 

“No.” I deny, leaning in to wrap my arms around him. He’s still for a second before slowly, carefully he brushes a hand over my hair, stroking softly. I tuck my face into his neck, breathing him in. 

“We’re…serious, then?” He asks and I can feel his free hand tracing over the Riorson family crest on my vambrace. 

“Very.” I laugh. “You’re going to marry me one day soon.” When I look up, I’m sure my eyes are bright. “Because I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, not because someone else thought it would be a good idea.” 

His lips part slightly. “You know…” 

My heart sinks a little. “I know.” I confirm. “Xade?” I lift a hand to his chest, resting it gently over his heart. “Promise me something—don’t go to Cordyn.” I beg. “If they want to renegotiate just tell them no, don’t go there.” I plead. 

“Why?” He asks carefully, in that way of his that means he’s hiding something.

“Just…promise me.” I beg. “Or promise me you won’t be alone with her, I just…Xaden.” I hold his gaze, pleading with my eyes. 

“Ok.” He relents. “I promise.” I sigh in relief, tension draining out of me as I bury my face in his neck. Maybe it’s selfish, to try and change this and only this, or maybe it won’t make a lick of difference—perhaps whenever this…anomaly is over, I’ll simply go back to my time and he’ll forget ever having met me until that day on the parapet. 

But if there’s even a chance I can change it—this one thing that affects no one and nothing but him—I’ll take it. “Thank you.” I murmur, pressing my lips to his throat. When I pull away slightly to meet his gaze again, I let my thumb trail reverently over his lips. 

“I love you.” I whisper. “I need you to know that.” I smile sadly at the broken, desperate look in his eyes. “I love you more than anything—anyone—I’ve ever loved or ever will love. There is no me, without you.”

Slowly, he lowers his lips to mine of his own volition and my soul sings.

Part Two

[literary-motif]

ENOUGH ANGST !!!! AAAGGHHH I HATE ANGST !!!! So after Isis confirmed the bound, Xanthus said that he will now sleep with love in order to keep them safe. After listener gets comfortable and finally falls asleep. Xanthus keeps staring at them, slowly releasing what Isis said and building a deeper connection to love. Just for Xanthus to hug them and rest with love PLSPLSPLS

My Design

Xanthus Claiborne x Reader

There was something very intimate about sleeping together — literally sleeping together. Xanthus was enthralled with the soft rise and fall of your chest, calming him so thoroughly that he feared it might lull him into the land of sweet oblivion himself. Your eyelids were gently closed, hiding the beautiful eyes he had lost himself in quite a few times since meeting you in that alley. 

He could not believe you had agreed to spend the night. Certainly, his lavishly decorated house — nay, mansion — might have something to do with it. It looked rather nice, he supposed. He was proud of the furniture, his collection of little specialties expanding over many centuries until it consisted of the composition of works he decorated his house with. 

There was an original Böcklin in the study, and a letter his old friend Van Gogh had sent him safely tucked away in the cabinet, next to the volumes of now historical pictures a history student might sell their soul for. 

His bed was very comfortable as well. Perhaps that was the reason that got you to stay, or maybe the thunderstorm raging in the night had made the prospect of walking home rather distasteful. Either way, you were here now, and he was glad for it. 

Isis had been gone for two hours, and his mind was still reeling. The bond was as fascinating as it was utterly terrifying. He had spent centuries living alone, not daring to tie himself to another person because they would wither and fade before his eyes, and now he was entangled with someone who was definitely going to die! 

‘Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. Yehuda Halevi was right, but instead of the holiness he described at the end of the poem, Xanthus would find insanity when your heart stopped beating. 

How fearful, indeed.

What was this feeling of love he had? How long had he gone without it? Vaguely, he recalled an infatuation at the end of the 19th century — nothing he had ever felt compared to this. 

There was a thread tying you both together, one he could not so easily break no matter how hard he might strain against it. Not that he wanted to, although he supposed part of him did.

Vulnerability never came easy, and now you were his weakness. A weakness. 

You mumbled something in your sleep, and he could not help the fond smile that came across his face. You looked so comfortable with your head buried in the pillows, lying on your side. Unconsciously, you had curled around him, and Xanthus felt the sudden urge to gather you in his arms and make sure nothing mortal or otherwise would ever get the chance to hurt you. 

Something in his chest shifted at seeing your peaceful expression — one that had been missing from his own face for decades. His chest felt warm, and he felt the burning need to protect that had evaded him since he had watched his nephews being lowered into the ground. 

This is love, he realized suddenly, burning, aching, maddening love. What had he become?

What had the bond done to him?

“Xan?” you mumbled, still asleep. His heart could not take it.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered, carefully wrapping his arms around you to pull you against his chest. Your head lay on his chest, and you let out a content sigh, appreciating his affection even from beyond the veil of sleep. “Sleep, I’m here.”

You did not reply, your gentle breathing filling the air again. Distantly, he heard a crack of thunder, lighting striking across the sky in a sudden flash of unloading tension.

Xanthus closed his eyes, listening to your heart instead, hearing it pump the blood through your body. He hoped it would keep beating for a long, long time to come. 

He would make sure of it anyway.

[thesunshinebunny]

Since requests are open can you do the octotrio with a s/o fem who dresses in doll core please?

My respects to anyone who wears this style every day, they seem like a walking beauty to me. Have a nice day everyone, drink enough water and take your daily dose of sunshine. Smoooch

Azul

Azul, being a man who contemplates every tiny detail, whether in his studies or in his contracts, could not help but notice every little detail in your dresses, your skirts, your crinolines.

The delicate lace, the ribbons, even the little bows made you dazzle. A unique aesthetic, for a unique person.

From time to time, and as long as business, and his pocket allows, he likes to buy you small pieces of accessories, whether necklaces, mittens or earrings. Once, Azul saved for months to be able to buy you a small music box, adorned with a beautiful and delicate porcelain brooch. Every exquisite item for his sweet doll.

He chooses each gift with the hope of seeing your carefully made-up face light up, drawing that happiness in your eyes and lips that makes Azul so happy.

Months into your relationship, Azul slowly begins to leave small decorations in the VIP room based on your style, and lately he even started wearing a small bronze brooch on his tie, matching your hair clip.

He likes to listen to you talk about this particular style for hours, he dives into the history and evolution. How you came to that style and how you represent yourself simply is what he likes to hear the most, as your eyes light with tiny sparkles.

Likewise, Azul shows a genuine interest in this style, understanding it thoroughly is synonymous with understanding you more. Little by little, he understands your tastes and preferences even more.

Jade

When he first laid eyes on you, he was truly intrigued by your… peculiar appearance. It's not every day you see Night Raven students in such eccentric attire.

He began to investigate the roots and their characteristics with an almost academic fascination. After all, getting to know a client for future persuasion is always good bussiness.

But this research went further. It felt almost genuine, even eager to get to know you better and to get to know you from a distance. He loved the idea of ​​discovering the unique aspects of that aesthetic that made you so… special.

As time went by, and with courage in his chest, Jade decided to take the first step. And as extra as he is, he decides to give you a special collection of small porcelain figures. A direct shot to your little heart.

At first you couldn't accept the gift, knowing that it was too expensive, but Jade wasn't going to take no for an answer. In the end, that collection didn't come out of his own pocket, but from the many unfortunate souls he had extorted into getting a doll each one of them.

After that… first gift, Jade really dedicates himself to gathering a couple of madols to buy you small hair accessories or earrings, carefully selecting each one and paying extreme attention to detail.

Jade likes to organize appointments to collector centers and doll core stores, watching as your face inspects every corner of the space looking for the perfect piece to finish an outfit. He wants the experience to make you feel loved and special.

He likes to save the objects that end up breaking due to wear and tear and years of use. In fact, he uses them as decoration for his multiple terrariums, admiring them day and night.

Floyd

Floyd is instantly intrigued by your doll core style. Maybe to try and mock you in the beginning, with a mix of curiosity and amusement. But slowly, veeeeery slowly, he’s getting into it by the love in your voice when you’re talking about it.

He even starts to notice some little details, the same intricate ones and whimsical nature of doll core fashion fascinate him, and he can't help but be drawn to the elegance and playfulness of your look.

Floyd loves to tease you about your doll-like appearance. He might make playful comments or jokes about how you look like a living porcelain doll, but it’s all in good fun.

His teasing is affectionate and meant to show how much he enjoys your unique style.

Despite his chaotic and carefree demeanor, Floyd has a surprisingly protective side. He’ll be attentive to your comfort and safety, especially when it comes to your delicate outfits. He’ll make sure you’re not in any danger of getting your clothes ruined or getting uncomfortable during your adventures together.

Even scaring and beating some schoolmates they look at you in a strange or contemptuous way.

If you ever feel self-conscious or insecure about your fashion choices, he’ll be there to cheer you up and remind you how stunning and unique you are. His support is genuine, hidden beneath his playful facade.

During quieter moments, Floyd might enjoy seeing you in your aesthetic loungewear or cozy outfits. He finds the contrast between your elegant style and the relaxed setting endearing, and he’ll cherish these intimate, laid-back times with you.

[dreamdragonkadia]

I can just hear my heart breaking for Hawke Fenris x Hawke! Reader

You could barely feel your own body—every limb aching, your muscles trembling, and magic prickling under your skin like an ember struggling to go out. The room was quiet now, save for the faintest sounds of it's breathing, of your breathing, and of Fenris’s presence somewhere nearby, keeping you in a reality you weren’t sure you could grasp yet.

Her. Not an it. A little girl, your daughter.

The feeling of her in your arms was impossible and yet so real. Tiny, fragile, warm—so different from the battlefield, where this exhaustion often meant steel or blood. You’d thought you understood what it meant to fight, to endure pain, to win—but 18 hours of labor had been its own war, the kind that no sword or spell could make easier. A war you’d won by bringing her here. You’d spent every ounce of control you had keeping your magic at bay, terrified one stray spark could light the house, Fenris, or her ablaze.

You could still feel the damp sweat on your brow, the grime that clung to your skin from those endless hours, but none of that mattered now. Your mind had gone blank when you looked at her—when you really looked at her—and saw her pointed little ears.

Your thumb brushed one of them softly, marveling at its delicacy. Fenris’s ears.However that was possible, you didn’t know. It shouldn’t have been. The universe wasn’t kind enough to allow things like this. And yet… there she was.

You didn’t have a witty retort on your tongue, not like you always did after something difficult had happened. You could see Fenris watching you now—carefully, silently—as if afraid his voice might shatter whatever fragile moment was unfolding. You could almost hear him asking “Is she… alright? Are you alright?”

You weren’t ready to answer.

You weren’t ready to put words to the flood of emotions threatening to overtake you—the awe, the exhaustion, the grief that lingered in the cracks of your happiness.

Because it shouldn’t have been like this.

Bethany would’ve been here first, probably pushing Fenris aside to coo at her niece with that soft and stubborn warmth only Bethany could manage. Carver would’ve hovered awkwardly nearby, arms crossed and face hard, only to lean over and whisper “Don’t worry, little one. I’ll protect you. Always,” when he thought no one was listening. Mother’s joy would have been boundless, her arms open wide to cradle her granddaughter, tears in her eyes as she proclaimed, “The Maker has blessed us with a miracle.”

And Father—Father would’ve spoiled her beyond reason, laughed as he claimed it was his right as a grandfather.

But none of them were here. The silence left behind by their absence was louder than any war cry, any shattering spell, or any death knell. It echoed in your heart. The only Hawkes left in this world were you and this little one.

Your daughter.

Fenris shifted from his place, stepping closer until he was kneeling beside you. You felt his warmth then, close but hesitant. He didn’t know what to do with hands that were so used to holding weapons or fists that had carved so many lines into his path.

“She has your spirit,” he murmured, voice low but utterly certain, as though the observation were fact. She was going to be a handful.

Your gaze lifted to him, the tears you’d been holding back welling up in your eyes. “And your ears,” you whispered, your voice raw, trembling, but full of something deep and fragile.

Fenris’s expression shifted, softening in ways you rarely saw. That was only ever for you. He stared at the tiny bundle in your arms, the wonder there almost eclipsing the guarded man you’d known for so long. Slowly—so slowly you might’ve imagined it—he reached out, his fingertips brushing the edge of her blanket, his hands careful and reverent.

For the first time, he looked unsure of himself. “I don’t know how to…”

“You don’t have to know yet,” you assured him softly, finding your voice again as you looked down at her face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding slipped free as Fenris settled beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. For once, the silence didn’t feel empty.

Your free hand found his, fingers curling around his scarred knuckles, anchoring you both to the moment, to the miracle that neither of you thought you’d ever deserve.

Your daughter let out the tiniest, softest sound in her sleep—nothing more than a breath—and the world felt still. Whole.

And suddenly, you couldn't help but want to see Varric. To see Isabela or Merrill. To show them all this child that they would no doubt spoil to the end of time in place of your family.

[earthlybeam]

Hi! Can you please do the secret crush story with Haldir?

how would the elves react to this?

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Haldir Version below. (You and haldir well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

➳ The great hall was alive with warmth and laughter, a sanctuary of festivity against the biting cold of the winter night. The towering stone walls glowed in the golden light of flickering torches, their warmth mirrored by the crackling hearths scattered throughout the space. Garlands of evergreen and bright red ribbon adorned every archway and pillar, while the rich aroma of roasted meats and mulled wine mingled with the faint sweetness of honeyed cakes. The room buzzed with life, the air filled with the lively hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. But Haldir barely noticed any of it. He sat with you in a quieter corner of the hall, where the distant hum of conversation faded into the background. Normally, this quieter space would have been a refuge for him, a place where his usual composure could remain intact. But tonight, Haldir was decidedly not composed. Not even close. It wasn’t the noise, or the revelry, or even the rich aroma of food and wine distracting him. No, it was you—seated beside him, as animated as ever, speaking a mile a minute with your voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Your hands gestured dramatically as you shared a string of anecdotes and observations, barely pausing for breath. Haldir, normally an attentive and patient listener, was struggling to keep up—not because your words were dull, but because he wasn’t hearing them at all.

➳ Your voice was a melody he usually loved to hear—bright and full of life, a sound he had come to associate with warmth, with you—but tonight, he barely heard the words. Instead, his attention kept slipping away, drawn again and again to the small sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. It swayed gently, its green leaves and white berries catching the soft glow of the firelight, taunting him with its quiet, insistent presence. Mistletoe. The thought of it sent a tremor of uncertainty through him, so unlike his usual composure. Haldir was always poised, his sharp mind steady and controlled, but now he was a mess of swirling thoughts and restless tension. He couldn’t focus on the endless stream of words flowing from your lips. He couldn’t think past the question that had lodged itself firmly in his mind. Should I kiss you? His gaze flickered back to you, tracing the curve of your smile, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement as you recounted yet another tale. You were utterly captivating, as you always were, and utterly oblivious to the storm raging within him. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat echoing in his ears as he tried to summon the courage to act. For months now, he had danced around his feelings for you, always keeping them carefully contained, hidden beneath layers of restraint. And yet, here you were—beneath the mistletoe, no less—and the weight of those feelings was threatening to break free.

➳ “And then, of course, they tried to convince me that it was my fault!” you exclaimed, laughing at your own story. Haldir blinked, realizing too late that you were waiting for some kind of response. “Right?” you prompted, your smile widening as you looked at him expectantly. “Indeed,” he murmured, the word slipping out automatically, though his tone lacked its usual confidence. He wasn’t even sure what he had just agreed to. You didn’t seem to notice his distraction, diving right into another story, your hands gesturing animatedly as your words poured forth without pause. Haldir’s lips twitched into a faint smile—half-amused, half-exasperated—as he watched you. He admired the way you threw yourself into every conversation with such enthusiasm, but tonight, your endless chatter was driving him to the edge of his patience. Not because it annoyed him—no, never that—but because it left him no room to speak, no opportunity to act.

➳ How could he possibly tell you what he was feeling when you wouldn’t even stop talking long enough for him to try? His eyes flicked upward again, to the mistletoe, before settling back on you. He had tried to hint at it, subtly glancing toward the sprig in the hopes that you might notice. But you hadn’t. You were too lost in your stories, too wrapped up in your excitement to see the way his hand fidgeted restlessly on his knee or the way his gaze lingered on your lips just a moment too long. Haldir drew a quiet breath, his jaw tightening with resolve. Enough, he thought. If he waited for you to notice, he’d be here all night—and perhaps every night after that. The thought made his heart ache. No, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to do something.

➳ “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and steady despite the storm of nerves beneath it. You paused mid-sentence, blinking up at him with a curious tilt of your head. “Yes?” For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Your expression was open and trusting, so utterly unaware of the weight of the moment. His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned in slightly, testing the waters. His hand lifted slowly, brushing against yours—just the faintest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity racing up his arm. You didn’t pull away, but neither did you seem to notice the tension coiled between you. Instead, you opened your mouth to speak again, ready to launch into yet another story.

➳ But Haldir didn’t let you. Gently but firmly, he reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand, his touch reverent as though afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly. The motion startled you into silence, your lips parting slightly as your gaze locked onto his. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes now, a storm of emotions carefully hidden for so long but finally breaking free. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch as soft as the whisper of a breeze. And then he leaned in, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. His lips found yours, hesitant at first, but warm and soft, lingering as though he was savoring the moment. The kiss was gentle yet firm, a quiet declaration of everything he hadn’t yet said, of everything he had been holding back for so long. For a heartbeat, you froze, caught completely off guard. But then, as the warmth of his lips and the steadiness of his hand anchored you, the initial surprise melted away, replaced by something deeper, something undeniable.

➳ Your hands moved instinctively, one brushing lightly against his arm while the other found its way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling gently in his hair. You leaned into him, returning the kiss with a quiet intensity that matched his own. Haldir’s hesitation began to fade, his lips moving against yours with a newfound confidence, a silent promise in every touch. When he finally pulled back, it was slow and deliberate, as though he didn’t quite want to let go. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he searched your gaze. His normally composed expression was softened, his blue-gray eyes unguarded in a way you had never seen before. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of the moment. You stared at him, breathless, your voice finally—finally—silent your lips parted slightly, your eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something softer—something that made his heart skip a beat. For the first time since the evening began, you were silent. “Haldir,” you murmured softly, his name falling from your lips like a whispered prayer. A faint blush rose to his cheeks as his lips curled into a soft, almost bashful smile. But his gaze never wavered from yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet but steady, his words carrying a quiet, unshakable resolve.

➳ Haldir swallowed hard, the faintest trace of color rising to his cheeks as he dropped his gaze for a fleeting moment before lifting it back to yours. When he spoke, his voice was soft and unsteady, betraying a rare vulnerability. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his words barely louder than a whisper, “but you left me no other choice. You… you wouldn’t stop talking.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and the blush deepened along the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His usual composure was entirely absent, leaving him looking both earnest and utterly flustered. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the admission, and then a light, breathless laugh escaped you. “Wait,” you said, grinning as you tilted your head, “are you telling me you kissed me just to get me to stop talking?”

➳ Haldir’s lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, his blush deepening further. He glanced to the side as if gathering his thoughts, then returned his gaze to yours, his expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitant honesty. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But that is… not the only reason.” Your breath caught at the soft, halting confession, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. His hand slipped from your cheek to hover near yours, his fingers fidgeting ever so slightly before brushing against your own in a tentative, almost nervous motion. “The truth,” he added, his voice dropping lower as he met your gaze fully, “is that I have wanted to kiss you for some time. I just… I was unsure if you’d welcome it.”

➳ His words, so earnest and tinged with quiet vulnerability, made your heart skip a beat. You stared at him, your eyes tracing every detail of his face—the slight blush staining his usually pale complexion, the way his lips were pressed together as though he wasn’t sure what you might say next, and the rare, almost boyish nervousness in his usually calm, commanding gaze. Haldir was the picture of elven grace and composure, always collected and sure of himself, and yet now he seemed uncharacteristically unsure, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, vulnerable hope that made your chest tighten. When you finally found your voice, it came out soft and teasing, though it carried an undeniable warmth. A smile curved your lips, lighting up your expression as you leaned in just enough to close the already small space between you. “Well,” you murmured, your voice low and inviting, “if that’s the case, you should definitely kiss me again.”

➳ Haldir’s breath hitched audibly at your words, his sharp elven ears catching every nuance of your tone. His eyes widened just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face as though your invitation had truly startled him. For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen, his normally swift reflexes faltering as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. You felt a rush of affection for him in that moment—this proud, composed elf reduced to speechlessness because of you. And then, just as quickly as the surprise had come, his expression softened. His eyes held yours, a mixture of relief and quiet joy filling their blue-gray depths. The corners of his lips tugged upward into the faintest of smiles, one that spoke of wonder and a hesitant sort of confidence. His fingers, which had been brushing tentatively against yours, grew bolder as they threaded carefully through your own, his touch warm and steady despite the slight tremor you could feel in his hands. “Are you… certain?” he asked, his voice softer than you had ever heard it, almost trembling with the weight of his emotions. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, as though he was memorizing every detail of your expression, his blush deepening even further. Your smile widened, and without hesitation, you gently tightened your fingers around his, grounding him in the moment. “Completely,” you replied, your voice unwavering, your eyes shining with affection. The sheer certainty in your tone seemed to melt away the last of his hesitation.

➳ Haldir exhaled a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned in once more. This time, there was no hesitation in his movements, no second-guessing the way he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours again, warm and firm, but this time with a quiet, growing confidence. The kiss was deeper, more certain, as though he was finally allowing himself to give in to everything he had been holding back for so long. From your perspective, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a warmth that far surpassed the fires burning in the great hall. The way he kissed you—gentle yet insistent, with an almost reverent care—made your heart race. You could feel the faint blush lingering on his cheeks, even as his hand cupped your face again, his fingers lightly brushing against your jaw in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

➳ For Haldir, the kiss was grounding and exhilarating all at once. Every touch, every press of your lips against his, felt like a revelation. The warmth of your hands in his, the way you leaned into him so trustingly, made his chest tighten with an emotion so profound it almost overwhelmed him. The restraint he had held onto for so long melted away, replaced by a quiet, unspoken promise in the way he kissed you now, his lips moving against yours with a growing fervor. You felt his confidence build with every passing second, the way his movements became surer, more assertive, and yet there was still that ever-present tenderness in his touch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a declaration of everything he hadn’t yet found the words to say. And yet, it wasn’t hurried or rushed. Haldir seemed intent on savoring the moment, on committing every sensation, every detail to memory.

➳ When the kiss finally broke, it was slow and deliberate, as though neither of you quite wanted to part. Haldir pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting lightly against yours as his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc along your skin. His breathing was slightly uneven, his usual composure still shaken, but his expression was soft, unguarded in a way that was utterly unlike him. You stared at him, your own breath coming faster, your heart still racing. His eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, but beneath the sharpness of his gaze was a vulnerability that made your chest ache. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, almost a whisper. “I have wanted to do that for far longer than I can say.”

➳ His blush deepened as the words left his lips, the faint pink staining his pale complexion contrasting beautifully with the calm strength in his tone. You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, your smile softening as your fingers brushed lightly against his. “Well,” you murmured, your teasing tone returning as you leaned closer, brushing your nose against his in a playful gesture, “if that’s the case, then I think you should keep going.” Haldir’s lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction before his expression softened into something that could only be described as utterly adoring. A soft chuckle escaped him, low and warm, as he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper still, filled with an assurance that made your knees weak, and as you melted into him, you felt the world around you fade entirely.

[leighsartworks216]

Self-Portrait of the Soul

Rafayel & gn!artist!Reader

Been playing around with this idea for a while, mostly cuz I think it's funny. But I also think it would be really cute if Rafayel went on to date an artist

If Thomas is mischaracterized, idc. I am using him as a vessel to move things along. If Rafayel is mischaracterized......... I have no excuse 😔

Warnings: mischief, heavily implied exploitation, misunderstandings, pre-relationship, possibly ooc

Word Count: 1,279

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Psst fill this out to be tagged in future fics! - Updated to add Rafayel)

You look up at the large painting on the wall. Acrylic paints hold each brushstroke in a suspended image, frozen in time. Even the carefully blended sections hold the evidence of their creation. A sheet coating of varnish makes the colors pop into a stunning vibrancy.

You’ll be the first to admit, it’s a bit experimental. The colors are chaotic and poorly laid out when compared to artists like Piet Mondrian, with seemingly no limit to the palette used. Your agent had been hesitant to put it in the exhibit at all, but you’d insisted. Now that you’re in the thick of it, you watch people in suits barely give it a glance as they pass from one painting to the next, and hear the occasional snicker from art snobs who only really like art when the artist is dead.

The rest of the works are ‘safe’, staying within the realms of comfort for buyers and gawkers. But this one… It’s the only one that sings to those willing to listen.

“There’s not many people appreciating this one.”

You jump a little at the voice that comes from beside you. A man, dressed in a simple but expensive suit, stands with his hands in his pockets as he looks at the painting. His purple hair and relaxed posture make him stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

He tilts his head to look at you, smiling. “Do you like it?”

Stumbling over yourself, you nod. Nobody has spoken to you about your work yet tonight. You can’t let the opportunity go, lest your agent get on your case about it. “Y-Yes, it’s my favorite.”

“Really?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he looks back up at the piece, and then glances at the other, markedly more popular, works around it. “Huh, how come?”

You glance at the other works, too. They’re just as familiar as you remember them.

Looking into the eyes of a portrait, you can recall the struggles of getting it just right so the figure is easily recognizable. The realistic painting of a cat stalking a mouse brings to mind the mind-breaking efforts of painting fur strand by strand. Most of the works are like that; easy-to-grasp realism, depicting things people would be interested in buying. A koi fish distorted by the ripples in a pond. Water droplets on a foggy mirror. A sunset. Each one with their own agonies, recalling only the pain of their production. Your agent’s voice repeating time and time again that this is what it takes to get into a gallery and have people be interested.

You look up at the big painting and all you feel is pride, peace, and like a burden has been lifted off your chest.

You settle for a more sophisticated answer. Your agent always said not to ruin the image of an artwork by pointing out the rough details. “Well, while the others are all technically correct, this one has more emotion and passion behind it.” You look at him, biting your cheek, hoping you answered ‘correctly’.

He cocks his head to the side, taking in the emotion and passion you mentioned. “It’s my favorite here, too,” he finally says after a minute. “It’s more genuine, like you said. The rest are all surface level and boring. They exist to appeal to a wider audience, but they don’t feel true to the artist’s intentions. Here, it feels like the artist has transcribed their soul onto canvas with each color and brushstroke.”

Your heart flutters. He… He really sees past the exhibition. He sees more than the price tags and art collectors.

He turns to you with that same relaxed grin, though something playful dances at the corners, reflected in his eyes. “Their whole soul is here, but nobody seems to care about it. Ironic, huh?”

You nod slightly. You can’t deny it; the most important artwork to you has become reduced to amateurish abstraction by the other attendees. You’re more certain now that it will not be purchased tonight. “Yeah…”

A hand taps your shoulder. You turn to see your agent, an older woman with dyed brown hair pulled into a tight bun and thin-framed glasses perched on her sharp nose. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Your agent huffs with barely-contained irritation. She smiles quickly at the man, no joy behind the gesture. “Madame Shrike wants to talk to you about commissioning a portrait! Come on, we can’t keep her waiting!”

A commission? Your heart skips a beat. You can’t tell if it’s from excitement or dread. Your agent grabs your arm to drag you over, but you stop to turn to the man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have to go! But it was nice talking to you, Mr…?”

The man’s eyes widen slightly, the realization of who this art belongs to catching up with him. His smile doesn’t falter despite the surprise. “Rafayel.”

You smile in return. “Thank you for your observations, Mr. Rafayel. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” You turn and follow your agent with hurried footsteps as you struggle to keep up with her rapid pace.

Rafayel turns back to the painting. His eyes roam the colors, trying to seek out the layers to this self-portrait of the soul now that he knows just who it belongs to. Thomas sighs as he comes to stand beside him.

“Thought you snuck out again,” he says. He looks up at the painting with disinterest. The only reason they were there at all was to rub elbows with potential buyers for an upcoming exhibit. “Have you spoken to anybody at all since getting here?”

Rafayel smirked, like he’s just been told some juicy gossip. “I have, actually. I spoke to the artist being shown tonight.”

“Really? What did you say to them?”

“I insulted their art.”

Thomas’s face dropped immediately. “What?!” he hisses in a stressed whisper. “Do you have any idea what that could do to your image?!”

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he blinks dumbly at his manager, pretending to be shocked as he puts a hand over his chest. “I have no idea. How?”

Thomas shakes his head and turns back to the colorful painting. “You’re insufferable sometimes.” Rafayel chuckles to himself, all too proud of his little joke. “What did they say?”

There’s a bristle from the brush you were using caught in a stroke of red. He wonders what they’re made out of, where you got them, how long you’ve had them for. He wonders how many more bristles he’d find in the rest of your work.

Ignoring Thomas’s question completely, Rafayel says, “Buy this one for me, will you?”

“This one? Isn’t it a bit… ‘rough around the edges’?”

“It’s the best painting here.”

“... I’ll never understand you.”

By the end of the showing, you expect all but one painting to be missing from the walls. Instead, once everything was taken down to be wrapped for various buyers, the walls were blank. Your manager gushes at her phone.

“You did really well for your first ever exhibit!” she praises. “Every single painting sold! Even your… ahem, experimental work. That doesn’t happen very often! You should feel very proud!”

You smile at her, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. She doesn’t notice. You can’t stop staring at the big empty spot where you’d spoken to that man.

“Okay! Now that you’re in, we need to start networking. There’s an exhibition next week for Rafayel that will be packed with more critics and connoisseurs than you could shake a stick at.”

You turn to her, eyes wide. “Rafayel?”