#it's just really a matter of me needing to set aside some time to sit down to write out that first draft

[leighsartworks216]

You're Not A Burden

Zayne x gn!therapist friend!Reader

Based on my own experience as the therapist friend and my struggles with being genuine about my emotions with people close to me ✌️

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, childhood friends, crying, nightmares

Word Count: 1,517

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Zayne has seen this same pattern ever since you were little; the weight of being the person everyone dumps their problems onto, rants to, leans on no matter how small you may be. It's happened for so long now, he can't remember a time you weren't the one stepping up to bear the brunt of someone else's troubles.

He remembers so vividly one day during recess. Your friend was crying because one of the teachers was being mean and unfair. You held them close, let them cry into your shoulder and blubber about their troubles. And then you went into class with that same teacher, experienced that same cruelty, and held your tongue. It was never about being stronger than anyone else, or that admitting anything was wrong was a weakness; only that admitting anything was wrong would place your troubles onto somebody else.

One time, when his parents were away, he slept over at your house in a pillow fort in the living room. He woke up before you, and you had dry tears on your cheeks.

You take the burdens as easy as you take in a breath of air. Even now, in the middle of your quiet night in, your friend called to rant about their job, their relationships - anything they needed to get off their shoulders. You smiled apologetically at Zayne, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom to finish the call without disturbing him further.

He understands, better than most, how difficult it is to watch someone suffer, physically or emotionally. How many times had he gone out of his way to ease the burden of his patients outside of medical care? Trying to get a plushie from the arcade for a girl who was too sick to get it herself. Playing chess with a lonely old man, even when it cut into his lunch breaks. But even he has limits to the burdens he carries.

He listens attentively for your voice through the closed door from his seat on the couch. Quiet hums to show you're listening. Muffled words of advice and support. The call goes on for some time, an hour or more, but not once does he hear you talk about your own struggles. Yet, he knows work has been more demanding lately, you haven't been sleeping or eating well, and you were really looking forward to an uninterrupted night in with him - information gathered through observation, more than not.

Not a single word of complaint.

He can't focus on his book, so he sets it aside in exchange for his laptop. The soft clack of keys fills the silence. It nearly drowns out your voice entirely; the typing pauses every now and then to listen when you speak. His work isn't as efficient, so focused on listening for you, but he manages to get through a few emails and a report or two.

When the door opens, he perks up like a dog whose owner just came home. His fingers are still on the keyboard as he watches you come out from the hallway, smiling apologetically once more as you tuck your phone away with a final glance.

"Sorry about that," you murmur as you sit back in your spot on the couch. He closes his laptop and sets it aside. "Lisa's been having a lot of guy troubles lately and just got back from a bad date."

He hums his acknowledgement and turns his body to face you. Cool hands grab yours, holding them in his lap as his thumbs massage into your palms and work out the tension in your fingers. "You didn't say much."

You laugh lightly, as though it's completely normal. As though it should be completely normal. "I didn't want to bother her with my own problems - she has enough of her own to deal with."

"What problems would those be?" he questions. You tense up, like you want to pull away. You don't, but you stare at the ministrations of his hands with a shake of your head.

"It's nothing."

"But if they're problems," he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze, "shouldn't I know about them?"

You glance at him with a grin that doesn't quite meet your eyes, and a slight downturn in your brow. "You're not on duty right now, Dr. Zayne."

He lifts one of your hands to kiss your palm. Your fingers brush his cheek. He leans into them without thought. "I didn't think I had to be to listen to my partner's issues," he shoots back, shooting down your deflection. His voice grows softer. "It's unhealthy to keep negative emotions bottled up. I am always here to listen should you need to let them out."

Something stirs in your eyes. Discomfort, at being called out and exposed. Worry, and fear. You look away again. "I don't want to bother you with that stuff."

"Who said you would be bothering me? I want to hear about the issues you have, however minor they may be." He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek. He directs your face back to him, leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, stealing your ability to look away. Your eyes remain lowered, staring at his nose. "You always carry the burdens of others. Allow me to carry your burdens, before you collapse under the weight."

You're silent. He shifts his fingers slightly, resting his middle and ring finger over your pulse point just under your jaw. Your heart is beating wildly. It stutters, jumps, skips. You inhale softly.

"You..." You shake your head slightly, nose brushing his. Your free hand fiddles with your pant leg. "You don't tell me about the issues you have, either."

He smiles slightly, wryly, as though you've just started trying to deal with a shrewd businessman who can't resist haggling.

"I had a nightmare last night," he admits softly. That draws your eyes up to his, finally. "When I woke up, it felt like I was still in the dream."

"What was it about?"

He gives you a pointed look. You frown. Your hand clenches around your pant leg, like admitting anything about yourself is agonizingly painful.

"I... I haven't been eating lunch during my breaks."

It's barely admitting anything, but he hums his approval nonetheless. "I was in the hospital, but the corridors were dark. I heard your voice echoing down the halls..." Your heart skips a beat in time with your concerned look. "Why aren't you eating lunch?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, hiding from the inevitable disapproval on his face. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I've been sleeping in my car during my breaks... I... passed out once, at my desk, because I was so tired... I don't want to concern my coworkers like that again." You wait a few seconds before cracking your eyes open. Sure enough, it's his turn to frown with worry. He knew you were tired lately, but he hadn't heard anything about you passing out at work. He can only be grateful you weren't out on the field at that time. "What happens next?"

"... I can't find you." His frown deepens, eyes flickering down your face, taking you in. "No matter where I look, you're not there. And when I wake up, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up and realize you're right there beside me."

Neither of you speak. Your pulse is calm now. The dark bags under your eyes concerns him more than ever now. The daze in his eyes when you woke up this morning to find him looking over your face flickers back into memory.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "We'll take our lunch breaks together," he tells you, leaving no room for argument. "The next time you feel faint at work, or too tired to keep going, please tell me."

You nod slowly, silently sealing a promise with him. "The next time you have a nightmare like that, you have to tell me, too."

He nods in return. "I will."

You blink, pausing, waiting for something that doesn't ever come. Waiting for him to decide your burdens are too heavy to bear, or become disillusioned with you now that you're no longer this infallible beacon of strength and dependency. But it never comes. Instead, Zayne strokes your cheek with all the tender patience in the world, rubs his nose purposefully against yours in semblance of a kiss, sits quietly with you with no expectations.

Large drops of water begin to form in your waterline. You swallow, fighting the starting tremors in your lungs. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, helping you sit in his lap where you hug him around his neck and hide your face in his shoulder.

He kisses the side of your head as your body cries with a practiced silence, rubbing his hand in soothing motions against your back. "You're not a burden for having problems, or for sharing them with others," he whispers. "You don't have to carry everything alone anymore."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one

[itsamenickname]

If you're still doing that writer's ask thing, I have a question:

💌

(Btw, I found your Bowuigi story earlier today and I freakin love it!!!!! I can't wait to see how the awesome story ends!!!!)

Aww, thank you so much anon! 😊 I apologize that it's taking me a while to get back on my feet, but trust me when I say that I have every full intention of finishing To Break the Bonds Within Two Kingdoms. :) (I already have the ending planned out, but it's more so of a matter of me taking some time to sit down and polish up the last two chapters (especially after I took an almost 2-month hiatus from writing). 😅))

And to answer your question, yes, I'm still accepting questions from the writer's ask (this specific post is what anon is referring to). :) As a way to make things easier for everyone who's reading this, I'll paste the question right next to the emoji/symbol so that everyone will know what anon is specifically asking.

💌 question: "Share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

So if you remember this post I made a while back, once I'm back on my feet, I am planning to upload a one-shot story before I start working on To Break the Bonds Within Two Kingdoms again. As I'm writing this response, there are two one-shot ideas that I've thought about for at least a few months (especially the second idea I'll talk about because that idea was a story I was originally going to work on after I finish TBTBWTK).

(Adding a cut here because the 2nd WIP will contain spoilers to TBTBWTK)

Idea/WIP 1: So the title of this WIP is called, Till Death Do Us Part My Sweet Little Bride and I'll start by saying right away that this story is a lot different than TBTBWTK because it's a one-sided angst Bowuigi story. Now to provide context on the events that happened before the actual story, Bowser kidnapped Luigi because he decided that he wanted to marry him instead of Peach (haven't figured out on Bowser's actual reason in wanting to marry Luigi instead of Peach yet). Now at first, Luigi was pretty compliant in waiting for Mario to rescue him, but minutes before the actual wedding would take place, Luigi made the brave and bold decision to attack the Shy Guy who was taking him to Bowser's throne room and make an escape attempt (the reason he did this is because he noticed that there were no other guards nearby who could stop him from escaping. It was just Luigi and that one Shy Guy in the hallway.) After Luigi attacks the minion/guard, the story would then center around Luigi trying to escape Bowser's Castle (while wearing a wedding dress), but would then hide in one of the guest rooms after he hears Bowser's voice and realizes that Bowser is now actively looking for him. (I will point out that this idea was kind of inspired by @jelixpo angst Bowuigi's au (which y'all can read about here), but the very first inspirations of this idea was me wanting to write a one-shot angst Bowuigi story after I finish TBTBWTK and the idea of Luigi wearing a dress to his wedding.))

Idea/WIP 2: I haven't found a title I like for this WIP yet, but similar to Till Death Do Us Part My Sweet Little Bride, this is going to be an angst Bowuigi story. However, unlike TDDUPMSLB, this story not only centers around Jerry the Hammer Brother, but it's actually kind of a prequel to TBTBWTK because the main focus on this story is Jerry's reaction to finding out that Luigi tried to kill himself (if you recall in chapter 17 of TBTBWTK, Luigi admitted to Mario that Bowser successfully saved him from committing suicide).

Now whether I'll work on WIP 1 or WIP 2, that's where I've been a little indecisive on. As of right now, I'm really leaning towards the Jerry-focused one-shot because I do really like the idea of sharing some of the events that happened before TBTBWTK took place (not to mention that I do want to create at least one story that centers around Jerry since he's become a pretty popular character in my story). :)

Although, I will say that I do love the Till Death Do Us Part My Sweet Little Bride title because of how mysterious and ominous it sounds.

[nyrasvoid]

The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[adieutristana]

not sure why it won’t let me respond to this one, but i’d be happy to write it! thank you for the request <3

also yall know i sometimes share the songs i have on repeat. right now it’s ’wings of a butterfly’ by HIM. ugh, so addictive

summary; jinx’s girlfriend comforting jinx, who thinks she doesn’t deserve her.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of poor mental health, a lot of crying and a panicked state, slight suicidal ideation, fluff

men dni.

jinx's mental state has always been... fragile, at best.

jinx never liked speaking of her past, preferring not to dwell on it. it was too painful for her, bringing tears to her eyes, her body quivering, sometimes even triggering hallucinations. as you spent more time by the girl's side, she began to slowly open up, dropping little details about her past every now and again.

she'll drop in anecdotes about her parents, or her childhood with vi, mylo, and claggor. she told you briefly about the job she went on that triggered the seemingly never-ending chain of unfortunate events that was her life, but she was always vague about it. shying away from the details, wincing when she even mentioned the incident on the bridge. most of what you had gathered about that time in her life was through word of mouth of others in zaun, bystanders who remembered it.

but you never push, never pry for more than she'll give you. it's not important to know every little detail, really, what matters is jinx here and now and how she's doing currently. how what happens has affected her and what you can do to support her.

in many ways, you've become the girl's crutch. her sanctuary of sorts, her safe place to come back to when the world gets too harsh or the voices become too loud. jinx navigates her life in fear, as much as she tries to put up a tough front- but you've never given her anything to be afraid of. that's one of the things that sets you aside from the other people in her life.

but tonight, it's all just so overwhelming. jinx can't shake the voices, can't shake the thoughts swirling around her mind. she's shaking, tears spilling from her eyes and lip quivering, her hands tugging at her braids and eyes squeezed shut. she tries to rock herself back and forth, trying to give herself some kind of comfort, but it isn't doing anything. she can't ground herself, can't shake the thoughts of worthlessness and the need to just disappear flying at her.

she knows that you're sleeping right next to her, and that makes jinx feel even worse. god, she's a mess. why can't she just let you sleep? be quiet and normal for once? you deserve better than this, surely, to be sleeping and have a girl losing herself next to you. she tries to stifle her sobs. the girl can't decide whether she wants your comfort or to just be left alone, leaving you to sleep and be okay without her. but it's all so much, jinx can barely form any coherent thoughts.

she hears you stirring next to her, blankets rustling, and jinx knows that she fucked up. her eyes blow wide, trying to rush over and coax you back to sleep, but you're groaning and blinking your eyes open.

"what... what's going on, love?"

you whisper, voice heavy with sleep.

"n-nothing, toots, just..." she sniffles, taking in a shaky breath. "go back to sleep... i'll be fine, i'll..."

she can't even finish her sentence before she's in hysterics again, you rushing to sit up beside her and scoot closer. sitting right next to your girlfriend's trembling form and taking both of her shoulders, trying to ground her somehow.

"jinx, baby, what's wrong?" you breathe out. "please, talk to me... i can't help you if you don't talk to me."

she's heaving, desperately trying to look at you, but her eyes are clouded with unshed tears.

"i don't deserve you. you should be with someone better than me."

she states, plainly. her voice is quiet and frail, holding eye contact with you... it's unsettling, frankly. you cautiously tighten your grip on her shoulders.

"what makes you say that? of course you deserve me."

she shakes her head slowly, sniffling.

"no. i'm a monster, a murderer," jinx mutters. "i've done bad things, babe. a lot of bad things."

you tilt your head, your voice dropping slightly. trying to use a softer, more soothing tone, trying to just get through to jinx.

"you think i don't know that?"

"you do. but i don't know if you understand it."

you're slightly taken aback by this, slowly swallowing and examining jinx's expression. she's so withdrawn, so cold. it's like she's not even there. you've seen your girlfriend in episodes before, shaking her head and screaming for the voices, the visions to stop. having to rock her back and forth in your arms as she settled down, gently shushing her. reminding her that everything is alright, she's safe, you're not going to let anything hurt her.

"honestly... maybe everyone would be better off without me."

this snaps you out of your thoughts, immediately grasping jinx even harder.

"don't you dare talk like that, jinx."

you say, voice stern. although, it makes jinx wince slightly, and that brings a feeling of harsh guilt, enveloping your very being in that moment. you can't bear to see her in any more pain than she's already in, especially to contribute to that pain.

"i just... i don't understand it. you're always so nice to me, and you don't bring up any of what i've done. even when i come back here covered in blood."

you gaze at her as she goes on, simply letting her talk. get it out, jinx. it's okay.

"why don't you care? anyone else would." she asks, a single tear falling.

"i'm not anyone else."

you whisper, hands coming to gently cup both of her cheeks. cradling her face in your hands, as if you were handling a piece of precious porcelain. that's not too far off, though. for you, jinx is the most precious thing in the entire world- far more precious than any money or items. she's your treasure.

"i know what you've done, jinx. i've seen it. and honestly, i don't give a shit."

jinx lets out a quiet gasp, feeling one of your thumbs coming to wipe her tears away, feeling sticky cheeks from all of the crying. poor girl.

"but-"

"none of that. i don't care. i know that there's good in you, because i've seen it. i see it every single day that i'm with you. you are anything but a monster."

your eyes are gazing into jinx's own, making sure that she gets every last word you're saying.

"you are a caring, talented, loyal girl, one who i've seen be gentle and kind when she wants to be. you've cared for me, loved me, protected me, all without asking for anything in return. that's rare, jinx."

she nods slowly, rosy eyes still locked with yours. she isn't saying anything, but you can tell that jinx is comprehending what you're telling her, taking it in.

"but you could have anyone." she protests. "i don't understand why you chose the crazy criminal."

"jinx, stop talking about yourself like that."

you say, pressing your forehead to hers.

"i chose you because you make me happy, and i love you, and again, i see the good in you. i don't want anyone else. i know that you get in your head like this, but i don't think any less of you for it. if anything, i admire your resilience."

you pause for a moment, before jinx finally lets up, slowly nodding along.

"...you promise?"

"i promise."

"you won't leave me?"

"i wouldn't dream of it."

jinx lets out a shaky breath, nodding again. slowly wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder, letting her eyes slip shut.

"let's get you in bed, okay?"

[fushiguro-megloomy]

request: [modern au] headcannons for childhood friends to lovers  pairing: viktor x gn!reader tags: nothing bad, very sfw, fluffy notes: ill be so for real with you i feel like i'm very weak at doing headcannons ;-; but i tried. i hope this is what you were looking for anon <3 divider from enchanthings-a

You’d known Viktor for as long as you could remember, his house across the street from yours. As a curious kid, you’d often linger while he tinkered with small projects, asking questions. Your friendship really solidified one summer when your bike broke, and Viktor fixed it with surprising enthusiasm. To repay him, you let him ride on the handlebars while you scooted him around the neighborhood.

He's absolutely critiquing your work before the teachers even get their hands on it. Sitting beside you at your desk clump, thick eyebrows pulled together and scribbling little “???” or just straight up “no” in the margins of your handwriting. You always glare at him but you're secretly grateful. 

He's observant, if you were hungry or tired he would wordlessly slide snacks onto your desk. He's not the best with social queues, but he knows when you're upset and he'll hover around you awkwardly until he blurts some random fact or sarcastic comment meant to distract you.

He's easily jealous, but in the way that he gets pouty, throwing himself into projects and denying anything is even wrong.

Definitely getting into squabbles all the time bickering like an old married couple

He's always gave you something handmade for your birthday. You still have it all. He's not big on his own birthdays but you always bring him a homemade cupcake.

This is not an original thought but he's definitely a gossip, ESPECIALLY as you grow into teen-hood. Not outwardly, but still he would unleash all his unfiltered opinions onto you, and his face definitely gives him away when he's silently judging someone. Mans got a wicked side eye.

Viktor had taken over his parents’ garage as his workshop, and it quickly became your second home. Most of your free time was spent perched on a stool, watching him work or pestering him with questions. You fell asleep there so often that he eventually squeezed a secondhand couch into the tiny space, insisting you needed somewhere more comfortable to crash.

You're each other's first kiss, but it doesn't happen until senior year. You're in his garage, complaining about never having kissed someone and he's like alright so let's kiss??? Things spiral from there.

“I mean, what kind of tragic story is that?” you grumble, tossing a pillow at him. “Eighteen and never kissed anyone. I’ll be the cautionary tale for future students.”  Viktor chuckles softly but doesn’t look up from his work. “I don’t see what the rush is. It’s not as if it matters.” “It matters to me,” you insist, sitting up. “Don’t you want to at least know what it’s like?” He stared at you for a moment, then let out a sigh, setting his tools aside. “Alright, then.” You blinked at him, confused. “Alright what?” He stepped closer, hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at you. “Let’s kiss.” Your heart skipped a beat. “What?!” “You’re complaining about it, so, we kiss, you stop worrying about it, and we both move on. Simple.” His voice was steady, but the faint pink rising to his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re serious?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Unless you’re too scared.” That did it. “I’m not scared,” you snapped, standing to face him. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. “Then stop talking.” Before you could come up with a retort, his lips pressed against yours, soft and careful. It was brief but left you reeling, your heart pounding as he pulled back. “Well?” he asked, tilting his head. “That should suffice, no?” You stared at him, dumbfounded, before bursting into laughter. “Yeah… yeah, I guess it’ll do.” He smirked, turning back to his workbench, though the tips of his ears were unmistakably red. “You’re welcome.” It was just a kiss, you told yourself. But as you sat back down, touching your lips absentmindedly, you couldn’t help but wonder why your heart was still racing.

©lilsworks 2024

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve. 

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face. 

It was one of his own. 

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion. 

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.  

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over. 

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue. 

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm. 

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion. 

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

[hoeforalbedo]

Dolly (Pt 2)

Human Alastor x Housewife!Reader

Pt 1, Finale

Tw: Murder, Forced Cannibalism, reader is described as a woman, dumbifying reader, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy.

Note: I guess I’m making this a series? I really want them to meet in hell. Also I really haven’t made it obvious bc I don’t want to erase Alastor being aroace. The way I see it, he’s kinda just toying with reader and grew obsessed once reader became a murderer.

———————————————————————

The morning after your delightful meal, you found yourself puking your guts out. The food did not agree with you at all. You wonder how Alastor’s body did not reject your food. Maybe it was all guilty’s conscience, but you’re not guilty for what you did.

Alastor holds your hair back, rubbing small circles on your back. “Oh my, what a way to start the morning. It makes me wonder if you’re perhaps pregnant.”

You shoot him a look, “Please do not say that, I beg of you.” No, you’re not pregnant, and Alastor knows you’re not pregnant. But if you are. . . That means you’re all to himself. You will have no choice but to depend on him even more. Even if you decided one day to leave him, you can’t. Nobody other man wants a tainted woman with children. Maybe one day he should get you pregnant.

Oh he absolutely knows that his dear wife has committed something awful and he’s proud of you, although he won’t admit it, yet. For now, he’s here to support you through the aftermath of your actions.

He could even recall his first kill, it was messy and uncoordinated, and the gore did not sit right with his stomach. But he hopes that his wife does not meddle in the business no longer. All you must do is sit pretty and be the doll you are. The sweet wife who cleans the house and cooks for him and cares for him dearly while being oblivious to the fact that your husband is out and about, killing many people.

But he’s curious. You might be just like him and the thought of that makes him want to grasp you in his hands tightly. To keep you all to himself and keep you away from anything that could take you away from him. At the same time, he wants to test you, push you further into insanity until there’s no more turning back and you’re addicted to the feeling of blood on your hands.

You’ve made a decision, you’re going to confess to Alastor. You can’t just keep him the dark about what you’ve done. “Alastor dear, so about Linda. . . I’ve. . .”

“No need to say more, ma cheri. I know.” He says, acting sympathetic towards you. He pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pats

“My dear, you’ve had such a bad morning so I believe you should go out and treat your pretty self with something,” He hums, combing your hair back.

“But-“

“I insist dear. Allow me to tend to the home and when you get back, you’ll be treated to a nice meal. How does that sound?”

Your lips pursed in thought. “Fine, but only because you insist.”

The phone rings.

“I’ll take that, mon cheri. Now I’ll allow you to get yourself all pretty and I’ll get you some money for you to spend.” He kisses your head and leaves you be.

———————————————————————

An outing is just what you needed, although it was not to relieve your nerves. You only felt guilt for having stained your hands with red. That matters not, anymore. Alastor says to relax and enjoy your outing and that is what you’d do.

Now that you’re out, Alastor prepares to go out. He puts his gloves, “I should prepare a freshly cooked meal for my dear wife. It’s about time I went hunting.” He hums to himself and leaves the house.

———————————————————————

The sound of chopping is heard through the kitchen. Chopped vegetables are put aside and Alastor is seen kneading a sort of meat. After he’s satisfied, he chops the meat and sets it aside.

“Let us see,” He says, squatting down to the body by the kitchen island. He reaches inside the abdomen, a squelch being heard as his hands move deeper. “Ah, there it is!” He says cheerfully as he cuts out the intestines.

After squeezing the contents out of the intestines, he looks up at the clock. “Oh dear me! It’s about time my dear Y/N comes home!”

It’s already 5 and he expects you to be home in about an hour.

He continues to grind away the other organs and meat before stuffing the intestines, making the sausages for the jambalaya.

After an hour has passed, you are back home. As you were about to reach for the handle, the door opened, revealing Alastor. “Welcome home ma cheri!” He greets you with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. You reciprocate and kisses his cheek. “What have you got there?” He asks, motioning to the bags.”

“Oh I’ve only bought a few dresses. Nothing out of the ordinary,” You shrug, putting the bags down.

“Then I should expect a show from you then, is that correct? Give me a little twirl in each dress?” His voice deepens as he tilts your head up to look at him.

“If that’s what my dear husband wants,” You say, almost as if you’re purring.

Alastor hums in approval and pulls your lips into a kiss. His arm around your waist, pulls you in, pressing your body against his. “Oh my pretty doll, you’ve got me all distracted.”

“And it is my fault?” She chuckles.

“Yes dear, it’s your fault for being so gorgeous, however I cannot complain about that. Come now, I’ve made jambalaya. Let us eat before it gets cold.”

You follow him immediately to the dining room. “How I love jambalaya. I’m grateful you’ve introduced me to one of your favorites.” You smile as you sat down. “You didn’t put shrimp?” You ask.

“I’ve decided to add some meat instead,” Alastor says, placing some food on your plate.

“Well anything you cook is delicious. I’ll enjoy every bite!” You beam.

The two of you continue to eat and chat. While doing the dishes, the door bell rings. “I wonder who that might be?” You say confused, not expecting any visitors.

Alastor goes to the front door and opens it with a smile. “Hello, how can I help you fine gentlemen?”

“We’re with the police, I’d just like to ask about your neighbors.” One of the officers say.

“Well of course!” Alastor remains to smile, however he is irritated, not that anyone notices.

“Who is it Alastor, dear?” You say, walking behind him. “Oh! Well hello officer!” You immediately put a bright smile. Alastor wraps an arm around your waist.

“Yes, you must be this fine gentleman’s wife. We’d just like to ask if you folks know anything about Mrs. Linda and perhaps Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.

“Connor? Well what could have possibly gone wrong?” Alastor says in confusion.

“Well officer, last night we got a call from dear Connor and just earlier before that, I believe during the afternoon, Linda paid me a small visit,” You answer.

“Is that so? Well ma’am, did she enter the home?”

“Yes she did. Just for a couple minutes though.”

“Anything in particular happened? Arguments, anything?” The officer pushes on.

“Oh of course not! Linda and I may only be acquaintances but I do not harbor such ill feelings for her.”

Alastor squeezes your waist, “You see, my dear wife is far too good for her own good. Far too oblivious to the world, but who can blame her. She’s a doll after all.”

You smile at the officers, looking very innocent.

“Why, I see why you married such a beautiful lady,” The officers chuckles. “Well did she say anything before she left?

“No sir. . . Well she did complain about how she suspects her husband of have a mistress,” You answer.

Alastor adds, “The couple do tend to have a tendency for infidelity. There’s neighborhood rumors of one of the kids not even being Connors’! It’s no surprise though. They say Linda sleeps with other men.”

You gasp, “You mean that man she was with that one day-!”

“Oh no need to worry your pretty little head about it. That is not our problem,” Alastor says.

“And the call you received from Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.

“Oh he just called to thank my dear wife for her generosity. She was kind enough to bake the family a pie. She’s a rather good cook,” Alastor answers with a smile.

“Well you see, both of the couples are missing and have left their kids unattended.”

“Oh that’s awful! Are they okay?” You ask with worry.

“They sure are. If you happen to hear anything about them, please do give a call, thanks for your time,” The officer nods and leaves.

After Alastor closes the door, you immediately broke into a sob. “They’re out to get me Alastor! They’ll get me!” You cling to him.

“My dear you won’t, I promise you they won’t. I’d do anything,” Alastor says in a hushed voice.

“I-I’m the last to have seen Linda and Connor! Now Connor is gone too! What if they think I am the one who killed him!” You cry hysterically.

“My dear, have you not seen yourself? No one would believe that a small thing like you could have possibly killed someone,” he reasons.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course dear.”

———————————————————————

“Must you really go, Alastor?” You plead, grabbing his hand.

“I’m afraid I cannot skip out on work today, mon cheri. But what if they get me? What if I can’t see you again?” You say with worry.

Alastor chuckles. Your clinginess used to be something that annoyed him but not finds adorable. “Remember what I said last night?”

You nod.

“So you’ll let me go right?”

You nod and let go of his hand.

“Good. Now I’ll be back later, my dear.” He kisses your forehead and walks out the door.

He in fact did not come home that night. He was found dead, a bullet to his head. You never landed on the suspect list, as Alastor was found to be the serial killer of New Orleans.

[hannieehaee]

idol hani fic plspslspsslspslspsls

content: idol!jeonghan, mentions of enlistment, established relationship, fluff, banter, etc.

wc: 635

a/n: im not sure what inspired me writing about cutting his hair but here we are

masterlist

"do you really have to cut it?", you pouted as jeonghan stood in front of you with scissors in his hands.

as per usual, there was a pleased smile on his face. it didn't matter to him to have to cut his hair, he knew it'd grow back. he just found some sick sort of entertainment in knowing you'd pout and whine about the loss of his hair.

it's not like he had to shave it off like most other people in the military did. all he needed was to get rid of the length, seeing as he had chosen public service rather than actually stationing himself outside of home. the upside was that he'd be able to come home to you every night and that you'd even get to keep him on the weekends. the downside was that his beautiful long hair would not make a comeback until the two year countdown reached zero.

okay, maybe the upsides heavily outweighed the downsides, but you felt like your dramatics regarding his hair were more than fair. especially considering that the demon was forcing you to cut his hair in favor of going to an actual hairstylist.

call it some sick sort of torture.

"it's just a trim, babe. it'll grow back. in two years, but y'know, same thing."

he was far too pleased by your huff in response.

"you suck, yoon jeonghan. i hope you finally learn the torturous life of office workers. karma will come for you one day or another," you scowled at him before gesturing for him to take a seat.

regardless of hair, he'd look handsome as always. this was your one consolation.

"c'mon, babe. you should be happy. you get to have me all to yourself for two years. carats will also suffer the loss of my hair but at least you get me as a consolation prize," he argued as he put on a cover to ensure he didn't get any hair on his clothes.

"yeah, yeah, whatever. they can keep you," you joked back, earning a chuckle from him.

your hands began unknowingly massaging his hair as you searched for where to start. you'd never really cut hair professionally before, and messing with an idol's hair just sounded like blasphemy to you. however, it was also nice to provide jeonghan with such a domestic favor.

it seemed enjoyable for him too. or at least that's the impression his purring gave you every time your hands ran through his hair.

"hmm, wait no, keep going," he grumbled when your hands went to leave his head in order to grab onto the scissors he'd set on the table before sitting.

"i thought you wanted me to cut your hair."

still, you went back to playing with his hair, running your fingers through the long strands that had him sighing at every touch. his eyes closed and his head leaned into your touch, silently encouraging you to continue.

"i was kidding! of course you can't cut my hair. i'm an idol, my hair's worth millions."

pushing the exaggeration aside, you wacked at the side of his head lightly in punishment, earning yourself a high-pitched 'yah!' before halting your movements altogether. this only made him complain even more.

"c'mon, i'll play with your hair if you come to bed," you pulled at his hand, dragging his lethargic body towards your bedroom so you could enjoy the last few moments you had with his hair.

he haphazardly took off the cover and followed along, mumbling one thing or another in complaint at your treatment of him, claiming you held no appreciation for him or that he was more than a pretty doll to drag around. you huffed with a laugh, getting a similar one from him as you finally got him into bed.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You had just sat down on the couch, sunk into the deepness of the cushions and gotten yourself comfortably when you heard heavy steps on your front porch. Your ears pricked up, listening, and sure enough there was a knock on the door. Your head dropped back and your eyes closed. You let out a slightly exasperated sigh before setting your paperback aside and climbing to your feet.

The door opened on a sheepish-looking Daryl Dixon.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, taking in the red welt on the side of his face and then the way he was cradling his hand with the other. Another sigh escaped you. "Come in," you said stepping back to let him enter. "You know, I was going to have a nice, quiet night of reading but I guess I'll be patching up your broken hand instead."

Daryl hurriedly toed his boots off on the rug in the entryway and trailed after you, nervously licking his lips. "Yeah, uhh—'m sorry. I know it's late."

You were putting some ice from the freezer into a plastic bag and turned to give him an appraising look. "Are yoooou going to tell me what happened or do I need to start asking questions?"

"Uhh—does it matter?"

You shrugged. "I guess not... But I'm extremely curious about what could have possibly happened that caused you to punch something or someone when we're supposed to be on our best behavior here..."

Daryl gulped. "It was—just that Aiden guy yappin', ya know?" Daryl froze as you took his hand and examined the swelling. He winced a little as your fingers pressed into his hand. You were making sure nothing was displaced.

"What was he yapping about?"

Daryl's face flushed with heat as he remembered it. "Ah—nothin'... just—talkin' shit," he said, hoping you'd drop it.

You gave him a skeptical look and a half-smile he found charming as hell. "Obviously it wasn't nothing if you got into a fist fight over it."

"Mmm," Daryl hummed, accepting the proffered ice pack. He laid it over his knuckles. He gulped again as you turned your attention to his face, looking the welt on his jaw over with concern. "Dun worry 'bout that. Guy barely got me. Couldn't throw a punch harder than Judith can righ' now," he drawled.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he asked, meeting your eyes.

You laughed. "You interrupted my quiet night in. The least you could do would be to tell me what all the drama was. You're dodging my questions. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Daryl's face flushed again. "Uhh—"

"Why are you being so squirrely?" you asked, your curiosity only increasing. You thought perhaps you'd better let it drop... He really seemed unwilling to tell you.

He ducked his head, staring down toward the ice pack over his bruised and swollen knuckles. "Just—stay away from that guy, alrigh?"

That hit you square between the eyes and you suddenly understood. "Oh." You paused and took a breath and Daryl hazarded a glance up at you, worry clear on his face. "What did he—?"

"I didn't like how he was talkin' about ya. And I set him straight. But I wouldn't put it past him to—I dunno. Just‚ he ain't worth the time of day, alrigh?"

You nodded, much more subdued now that you understood that the fight had been, somehow, over you. "Well... come and sit down. You should keep that ice on for 20 minutes. I didn't feel anything displaced in your hand.... I'm—I'm sorry you got hurt over—over something to do with me."

Daryl looked puzzled. "Whoa—hey. It ain't yer fault. Ya dun have anythin' to apologize for. Ya weren't even there. Besides," he said, fidgeting a little nervously, "it was worth it. And I'd do it again. I will do it again if he didn't learn his damn lesson..."

You smiled fondly at him, a little stunned by his protectiveness. "Thanks. I suppose I can still have that quiet evening now. Interested in joining me?"

Daryl nodded. "Ya got any books I might like?"

You grinned at him. "Mountain man adventures or pirates?" you asked him.

He laughed gruffly. "Surprise me." Prompt: "I was going to have a nice, quiet night of reading but I guess I'll be patching up your broken hand instead."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 2: Caught on Camera

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Fandom: Women's basketball

Paring: Paige Bueckers x ! Photographer fem reader

Summary: is this thing still on?... I hope not....

Welcome to chapter 2 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸... if you wanna be added to the tag list let me know!

Avoidance was becoming a bad habit of mine. After the incident with Paige and my shattered camera turned into an internet meme, I couldn’t bring myself to face her—or the team, for that matter. Every social media platform I opened featured the clip: Paige’s epic block, the ball ricocheting, and the destruction of my beloved camera. People had even started adding exaggerated sound effects and captions like, "When life hits you hard…literally."

To make matters worse, Paige addressed the incident during a post-game interview, her sheepish smile making me squirm every time I replayed it in my mind.

“It was an accident,” she had said, laughing softly. “I feel really bad about it. Y/N’s an amazing photographer, and I hope I haven’t scared her off for good.”

Her words made my chest ache, but I still avoided the team practices. I stuck to photographing games with my new camera, keeping my distance from the players—especially Paige.

That’s where KK came in.

“Y/N, you can’t avoid us forever,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in class one afternoon. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes that I didn’t trust.

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” I replied defensively, keeping my gaze on my notes.

“Right,” KK said with a smirk. “That’s why you haven’t shown up to practice all week.”

I sighed, slumping in my chair. “It’s just… easier this way.”

KK rolled her eyes. “You know Paige feels terrible, right? She keeps asking about you.”

My stomach flipped, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. “I’m fine. She doesn’t have to worry about me.”

KK didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought I’d won the argument—until she spoke again, her voice casual.

“Hey, can you stop by the gym tonight? Coach wants to see some of the practice shots you’ve taken for the project.”

I frowned, suspicious. “Coach? Why would he need to see them now?”

KK shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I don’t make the rules. Just swing by, okay?”

That’s how I found myself at the gym later that evening, camera in hand. The space was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as I stepped inside.

“Coach?” I called out, my voice echoing.

Instead of Coach, Paige emerged from the shadows, her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice soft.

I froze, my grip tightening on my camera. “Paige? What are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, the gym doors slammed shut behind me, and I turned to see KK waving through the glass window with a wide grin.

“You two need to talk,” KK shouted, her voice muffled by the door. “I’ll let you out in the morning!”

“KK!” I yelled, rushing to the door, but it was locked tight.

Paige let out a small laugh, drawing my attention back to her. “Well, I guess we’re stuck together.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. When I returned, Paige was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the court, my camera in her hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paige glanced up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I figured I’d record something for you. An apology, I guess.”

Before I could respond, she pressed a button, and the red recording light blinked off—at least, I thought it did.

“Can we talk?” Paige asked, setting the camera aside.

I hesitated before nodding, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice sincere. “About your camera, about everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “It’s just… hard. That camera meant a lot to me, and now everyone’s laughing about it like it’s some big joke.”

Paige’s expression softened, and she scooted closer, her knee brushing against mine. “I get it. I’d hate being the center of a meme, too. But you’re more than that clip, Y/N. Your work is incredible, and I’ve seen the way you capture the game—like you see things the rest of us miss.”

Her words made my chest tighten, and I looked away, feeling vulnerable under her gaze.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

Paige reached out, her hand resting lightly on mine. “I mean it. You’re amazing.”

I glanced up, meeting her eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed

to fade away. Her gaze was steady and warm, filled with an honesty that made my heart stutter.

“Paige…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She gave me a small, lopsided smile, her fingers brushing over mine. “I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Not just with the camera—but with you. Can we… start over?”

I hesitated, the weight of everything between us making it hard to breathe. But then I saw the earnestness in her expression, the vulnerability she rarely let show.

“Okay,” I said softly, nodding. “We can start over.”

A small laugh escaped her, almost a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I really don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” I lied, though we both knew the truth.

She smirked, leaning back slightly. “Right. You just conveniently disappeared every time I was around?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, maybe I was avoiding you. But only because I didn’t know how to face you after everything.”

“Well,” Paige said, tilting her head, “now you’re stuck with me until KK decides to let us out. So, no more avoiding.”

I chuckled, the tension between us easing slightly. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

We spent the next few hours talking—about basketball, photography, school, and everything in between. Paige was easy to talk to, her laugh infectious and her stories captivating. For the first time in weeks, I felt at ease.

At some point, exhaustion caught up to us, and we ended up lying on the court, our heads close together as we stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Paige turned her head to look at me, her expression thoughtful. “All the time. The WNBA feels so close, but at the same time, I’m scared of what it means to leave everything here behind.”

I nodded, understanding her fear. “Change is scary. But you’ll do amazing—you always do.”

Her gaze lingered on me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, my words steady.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and before I knew it, I drifted off, the warmth of Paige’s presence lulling me to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of muffled laughter. Blinking against the light, I realized Paige and I were still lying on the court, her arm draped over me in a way that felt impossibly natural.

“What do we have here?” KK’s voice rang out, teasing and triumphant.

I sat up quickly, my face burning as I saw KK and Azzi standing near the gym doors, their grins wide and mischievous.

“Did you two have a good night?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Seriously, KK? Was this really necessary?”

KK shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Hey, you two needed to work things out. Mission accomplished, right?”

I glanced at Paige, my embarrassment fading slightly as she gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” she said, her tone light but sincere. “Mission accomplished.”

As we stood to leave, I grabbed my camera from where it had been resting on the sidelines. A sinking feeling hit me when I noticed the recording light still blinking.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, quickly stopping the recording.

Paige looked over, her eyes widening as realization dawned. “Wait… was that on the whole time?”

I nodded, mortified.

KK burst out laughing. “Guess we’re gonna have some very interesting footage to review!”

Paige and I exchanged a look, equal parts embarrassed and amused. Maybe this wasn’t the worst way to start over after all.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[emma23]

Three sides, one heart :

Marc/ Steven/ Jake x reader

If you’d like to support me, feel free to check this out 💕

https://ko-fi.com/settings?tab=profile

The warm scent of cinnamon and coffee filled the air as you leaned back on your couch, your feet tucked under a blanket. Across the room, Steven fumbled with a book he’d been trying to read all day, his brow furrowed as he absentmindedly adjusted his glasses.

“You’ve read the same page five times,” you teased, watching his lips twitch in amusement as he looked up.

“Have I?” he asked, glancing at the book like it had betrayed him.

You nodded. “Pretty sure the protagonist isn’t supposed to spend three chapters introducing themselves.”

Steven chuckled, setting the book aside. “Maybe I’m distracted.” His soft, curious gaze met yours, and your heart gave a little flip. He always had a way of making you feel seen, like nothing else in the world mattered.

“You know, it’s nice having a quiet evening,” you said, stretching. “No chaos. Just us.”

Steven smiled nervously, his fingers twitching as if debating whether to say something. “Well, about that…”

Before you could ask, his body tensed as his posture shifted slightly. That familiar flicker crossed Steven’s eyes—a slight roll of his neck, the drop of his shoulders—and suddenly, you were looking at Marc.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You couldn’t let Steven finish his quiet moment?”

Marc shrugged unapologetically, grabbing a bottle of water from the coffee table. “He’s had plenty of quiet moments today. I needed a break.”

“You are so considerate,” you deadpanned, earning a smirk from him.

“I do what I can,” Marc replied, his tone light but his eyes lingering on you a beat too long.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing.” He leaned back, his gaze softening just slightly. “It’s just… I don’t know how you deal with all of this. Us.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, that familiar shift happened again. A slight tightening of the jaw, a flicker of something sharper in the eyes.

“Don’t get all sappy, Marc,” Jake said, his accent cutting through the calm. He adjusted his jacket and looked at you, his dark gaze filled with something unreadable. “She handles it because she wants to. Right, cariño?”

You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. “And here I thought tonight was going to be peaceful.”

Hours later, the room had grown quieter. Steven had re-emerged, and the two of you were sitting side by side on the couch, a documentary about ancient Egypt playing softly in the background. He was gesturing excitedly at the screen, explaining some minor historical inaccuracy, when you caught it—that look.

Steven’s eyes flicked to yours, then briefly down to your lips before darting back up. Your breath hitched slightly as he froze, realizing you’d noticed.

“What is it?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer.

“I—nothing,” he stammered, but his gaze betrayed him.

The air grew heavier as you leaned in slightly, testing the waters. “Steven…”

Before he could reply, you felt it again—that shift. This time, Marc was there, his expression far more confident than Steven’s but no less intense.

“Don’t stop,” Marc murmured, his voice low.

Your heart raced as you searched his face, but the moment didn’t last long. Another blink, and now Jake was there, his smirk sharper, more daring.

“You’ve got all of us hanging on by a thread, muñeca,” Jake said, leaning closer. “What are you going to do about it?”

The kiss that followed was everything—clumsy and sweet when Steven took the lead, firm and passionate when Marc took over, and utterly consuming when Jake finally claimed his moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and laughing, you shook your head. “You know, dating three men in one body should come with a manual.”

Steven adjusted his glasses nervously. “Maybe I could write one?”

Marc snorted. “Step one: Avoid Jake.”

“Step two,” Jake interjected, smirking, “let me show you how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Step three: I need more wine.”

[folklorcore]

skincare time - v. hacker

Pairing: Vinnie Hacker x Fem!Reader

TW/Tags: Pure fluff, established relationship.

Summary: Vinnie asks you to do your skin care routine on him, starting with a nice tradition between the two of you.

Words count: 0.63 k.

You were in the bathroom inside Vinnie's room, your boyfriend.

You were mostly doing your skincare routine, when he knocked on the door.

"Baby, are you done yet? I miss you." he complained, opening the door a little to see what you were doing.

"Actually, yeah, I just need to brush my hair." You nodded looking at him in the mirror in front of you while he hugged you around the waist and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

You ran the brush through the ends of your hair and then brushed the rest.

"What's it for?" he asked taking a tube of liquid charcoal mask.

You smiled at the product in his hands and set the brush aside when you were done. "It's a mask, love."

"The kind that stick to your face and take away the blackheads or something?" he stopped hugging you to better observe the product.

"Yeah, exactly." You were going to start saving everything you used but he stopped you.

"Do you think you could… I don't know, do your skincare routine on me?" he asked biting his bottom lip looking at you. "If you don't want it doesn't matter I just—"

"Of course, sit down." You indicated to him by moving to the side so that he could sit where you were before and he did that.

You started by taking one of your hair bands, using it to keep his curls out of his face.

To say that he looked adorable was an understatement. Vinnie watched the movement of your hands where they went, waiting for what you would do next.

First you helped him wash his face with a purifying gel that you used.

You passed a towel that you used especially for your face across his face, removing excess water from his face with touches all over it.

"Your touch is too light and soothing." he mentioned with his eyes closed, making you giggle.

"Thanks, baby." you responded by choosing a Korean face mask to put on, choosing an avocado one.

You opened it up and spread it out, placing it on his face carefully. But he was startled by the sudden cold contact on his skin.

"Shit, it's cold."

When you got it fully on his face you looked down at your phone, checking the time.

"We have to wait twenty minutes."

As the said time passed you talked about your day, while he just nodded because he couldn't speak or his mask would fall off.

When you looked at the phone again, at least twenty-five minutes had passed. You went back to remove the piece of cloth from Vinnie's face and deposit it in the trash.

You took the towel again to dry him and put it aside.

You took some facial cream, putting it in the palm of your hand and with two of your fingers of the other free hand, you took the product to put dots of it on his face.

Then you gently began to spread it all over his face.

"This really is relaxing." He muttered sleepily, and you smiled looking at him.

"I know." you nodded removing your hands from his face and left a peak on his lips, removing the band from his hair. "lets go to bed."

He nodded getting up from his seat, hugging you to guide you towards the bed. Where he threw himself with you into his arms making you laugh and him smile.

"Good night, love." you said looking at your boyfriend already asleep.

"Good night, doll."

The next day at night, you came out of the bathroom when you were done with your skincare routine and he was standing by the door.

And what he said left a smile on your lips.

"It's skincare time."

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

[littlefireball]

ʏʜ|ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ, ꜰ**ᴋ ᴍᴇ, ʜᴇᴀʟ ᴍᴇ (ᴍ)

ᴇx-ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ x ᴇx-ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx(??)|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱɪɴɢ ᴛᴇʟᴇᴋɪɴᴇꜱɪꜱ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ꜰᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ|Part 2

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.2ᴋ

Some kind of rewrite Doctor AU (the previous one is not that good sorry🥲)

"Fuck it…so damn hurt…" As you stirred from your slumber, a jolt of agony shot through your abdomen. Glancing around at the sterile medical apparatus surrounding you, it dawned on you that you were back in the hospital—again. This marked your fifth visit in just a few months. Why, oh why, did your body choose this moment to betray you? The relentless demands of life and the toll of your menstrual cycle had conspired to weaken you further, leaving you feeling more fragile than ever.

Just then, a knock echoed through the room, jolting you from your thoughts. To your utter disbelief, the doctor who entered was your ex-boyfriend, Jeong Yunho.

"Fuck…" You buried your face in your hands, desperately trying to shield yourself from the reality of the situation. All you wanted was to vanish into thin air.

"Miss Y/N, well…" He walked to you, placing down thick documents on the table. "You really need to be careful with your power. Overdoing it can weigh heavily on your spirit," Yunho said, glancing over your health reports with a serious expression.

"I've heard you say that more times than I can count, Dr. Jeong," you replied, exhaling dramatically and rolling your eyes, a hint of annoyance creeping in.

"But you never take it to heart," he countered, setting the reports aside to focus on you. "Look at you—back in the hospital again." He glanced over the medical reports forwarded from various hospitals and couldn't suppress a disapproving shake of his head.

"It's just a bit of dizziness, nothing major," you said nonchalantly, shutting your eyes to escape his piercing gaze.

"That dizziness is a warning sign that your spirit is on the brink," Yunho pressed, his tone firm. "This isn't a joke, Y/N. A severe headache and dizziness indicate you've pushed yourself too far."

"If you continue like this, no matter how much medicine you take, it won't stop the pain." His warning carried a weight that was strikingly different from his usual demeanor. There was no one to blame; no one wanted to heal their ex;it was only natural to feel irritated, especially when his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"I will prescribe some medications. Make sure that you take them daily and please don't OVERUSE your power." He deliberately emphasized his tone, giving you a serious look. "Yes,sir." You helplessly said, pouting.

"Take a rest." He collected his things and made a move to exit, but instead, he concealed himself and peered at you through the window. He knew you so well, fully aware that you wouldn't listen to his pleas.

You let out a frustrated curse as the familiar agony of period pain gripped you once more. The painkillers that had once been your saviors seemed powerless now, leaving you at the mercy of the relentless discomfort. Sitting up straight, you focused your telekinesis to summon a cup for some soothing hot water, but just then, Yunho burst through the door, causing you to startle.

"Did you just forget what I said?" He gazed at the cup suspended in the air, his eyebrow arching in disbelief.

"I… I just want some water. Not… not…overuse my power" You managed a sheepish smile, your words tumbling out in a fluster. He moved closer, snatching the cup and filling it with water before placing it right in front of you. "Just get off the bed and grab some water. It's not that far."

"I would do it if I could." You murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

"Can't you just listen to my words at least once?Or you want to be more painful?" Yunho crossed his arms, saying impatiently, "You've always been like this all the time."

"Does it matter to you?" You countered. "You can just leave me alone and you don't have to do that much. We broke up."

"Listen, I'm your doctor, and you're my patient. This is just how it is, okay?" He let out a weary breath.

The tension in the room seemed to thicken with each passing moment, as if the very air was struggling to bear the weight of the unresolved emotions lingering between the two of you. Yunho's expression and gaze softened as he took a step closer, but there was still a trace of exasperation in his eyes.

"It does matter to me, Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Even if we're not together anymore, I still care about you. And as your doctor, it's my responsibility to ensure that you're taking care of yourself. Your powers are a gift, but they're also a burden if you don't use them wisely."

You looked down at your hands, avoiding his gaze, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration. You knew he was right─overusing your power caused your body to almost collapse. Severe menstrual pain was one of proofs, which you didn't have it before.

"I'm trying," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. But the truth was, you were lying to both him and yourself. You clung to the power that had become both your curse and your shield, a double-edged sword that offered strength at a steep cost.

"Y/N, you're not invincible," he said, his voice softening as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Your powers are incredible, but they come with a cost. You can't keep sacrificing your health for money or whatever other reasons you might have. You're worth more than that." Yunho's eyes bore the weight of concern as he examined you, his words gentle but firm.

"I'm here for you, Y/N. You're still the person I used to love, even if we're not together anymore. That doesn't change the fact that I want you to be happy and healthy."

You nodded, a smile struggling to break free. Just someone he used to love? Why did that thought sting? Wasn't it the reality? Deep down, you still held onto feelings for him, even if you'd never confess it. The memory of that day he ended things lingered sharply in your mind—"We're not meant to be." He was right; it was a perplexing paradox between you two—he dedicated his life to preserving others, while you were the one who brought them to an end.

That was not what you desired but your family had twisted your power into a tool of manipulation, forcing you to engage in unspeakable deeds—murders, thefts, every crime imaginable staining your hands.

Yunho initially believed he could sway your thought, but he soon realized he was mistaken. You couldn't get rid of your toxic family.

"I'm tired. I wanna take a nap." Sighed, you laid down to the bed, closing your eyes. The conversation had to end; each word echoed the depth of your love for him and the ache that lingered since his departure. You fought back the tears, determined not to let him see your vulnerability.

Yunho stood still instead of leaving. From the instant he laid eyes on you, a deep ache settled in his heart. What has caused your health to deteriorate so drastically? What has your family done to you? A whirlwind of questions swirled in his mind, anchoring him in place. He recognized the absurdity of it all. He was the one who had initiated the breakup, yet here he was, grappling with an overwhelming reluctance to move on. If the break up had never happened, would things have turned out differently? He found himself unable to resist asking.

"Hiss…it's so fucking hurt…" Believing he had already departed, you let out a sharp gasp. You forced yourself to endure, wearing a mask of indifference, while inside, you were battling the period pain. "Why?Why?"

"Are you alright? What's going on?" Yunho's sudden voice surprised you, making your eyes wide open.

"Why are you here?" You startled. "…Nothing…I'm fine."

"Fine?! You look pale, and you say you're fine?" You were silent.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me the truth."

"Can't you just…hiss…" The sharp pain creeped in, causing you to look even more pale.

"It's alright, it's alright," he reassured, gently patting your back, and gradually, the cramping began to ease. "Just tell me what's going on so I can help you."

"How can you possibly help?" you whispered, lowering the blanket to reveal your weary eyes. "The painkillers aren't doing anything…"

"Where does it hurt?" Yunho's voice was tender, but you quickly pulled the blanket back, murmuring, "It's period pain."

"Wait, what?" he replied, confusion etched on his face. "I said it's period pain." You pushed the blanket aside, a pout forming on your lips.

"Hold on. Period pain? But you never had this before. When did it start?"

You thought of the breakup. You wanted to confess, but chose to keep that part to yourself.

"I forget." He knew you lied as he noticed your habit when you were saying something fake. "I can drink some hot water…"

"Do you think it's gonna work?" Yunho cutted off your words with a serious tone. "Drinking hot water is not useful─"

"So what can I do?" You said, your impatience bubbling over. "Please don't say I should ask for your help…" you grumbled quietly, hoping he wouldn't catch your muttering.

"What did you say?" Yunho inquired, while you fidgeted with your fingers.

"I told you not to suggest I ask you to fuck—" You abruptly halted, realizing you were just rambling. A heavy silence enveloped the room, and a deep crimson crept across your cheeks, flooding you with embarrassment.

"Nothing! Just leave my room!" you exclaimed, disregarding the tightness in your stomach as you pushed Yunho out by using your power, slamming the door behind him. You then buried yourself in the embrace of your blanket.

Shit!It's embarrassing!How can you say what you're thinking?!

After a while, a knock echoed through the room. Had Yunho called more doctors? "Come in," you whispered into the blanket, only to discover it was Yunho himself, walking to you with a towel in hand.

"What're you doing?" You asked, watching him to lock the door and close the curtain. "To do what you ask me to do."

"Wait!Wait!Wait!" You sat up straight, urging him to stop unbuckling his coat. "I…I…that's not what I mean." "So, what do you mean?" Gripping your chin, he climbed over the bed.

You struggled to find your voice, stammering as he held you down. Your bodies were pressed together, the heat between you palpable as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your skin, igniting a wave of shyness within you.

"Don't we do it so many times?"

"Shut…shut up."

"Then push me away." He let out a smirk, pinning your hand above your head firmly. "But I know you wouldn't."

"Who…who said…" He stopped your word with a kiss.

"See?You didn't resist at all."

"So…you gonna help me? But don't you hate me? Don't you think we're not a match? Do─"

He stopped your words with a sudden kiss and you melted for it.

"I can't see you suffer. It cuts deep. I believed I could handle it, but the truth is, I can't." Their eyes locked, revealing a shared sorrow that seemed to echo in the silence. "My heart shatters every time I look at you. What has happened to you? What has your family put you through? I regret thinking I could walk away. I just…sorry…please let me make up for you."

Gently brushing your cheek as if seeking your consent, he lowered himself to kiss you once you gave a nod. Perhaps he couldn't articulate the courage behind his actions, but his heart was leading the way. As the kisses grew more passionate, a wave of memories washed over you; bittersweet yet brimming with love.

With your arms encircling his shoulders, you drew him nearer, savoring the softness of his touch as his hands glided down to your lower body. Both of your clothes were thrown anywhere, leaving you both naked making out on the bed.

"Don't be too loud or they will know what we are doing." He whispered, leaving a peck on your lips before placing a towel under your thighs. "You know you're a moaner." You patted his chest playfully, earning a doting smirk from him. But the laugh soon died out as his tip rubbed against your entrance, he couldn't help but hiss when he saw your blood.

"Don't force yourself…I'm okay with it." "No, honey. Just wait for me for a second." He tucked the blanket higher, ensured to shield you both from prying eyes and keep your nudity hidden. Yet, a deeper flush crept across his cheeks as the reality of the moment sank in.

He was fucking his ex-girlfriend in his work place. Oh my goodness! What if his co-worker sees? But they won't find it, right?

"Yunho…?" Your soft whimper pulled him back to reality.

"Yes, honey?"

"Are you okay? You can just stop if you don't want to."

"It's fine, everything's fine." A grin failed to mask his anxiety. His hands quivered slightly as he leaned closer to you. An odd feeling washed over him; the combination of warmth and moisture stirred a sense of discomfort. It was sticky, yet he couldn't deny that it felt strangely pleasurable at the same time.

When he wanted to move, you stopped him by gripping his shoulder tightly. "Please don't move…You're too…too big…Just let me adjust first." It was not your first time but indeed you haven't done this in a long time.

"Tell me if you're okay." He murmured, not sure what to do but just stayed still. "Are you shy?" You tilted your head, finding his ears redden. He blinked several times and avoided your gaze instead of answering, making you let out a chuckle.

"Can you kiss me?" You cupped his face to make eye contact with him, whispering softly. As your request hung in the air, he pressed his lips against yours with a gentle urgency. Tears brimmed in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks like delicate raindrops. Enveloped in the warmth of your kisses, he began to move with excruciating slowness, ensuring you could feel every vein of his cock.

Your toes curled as he hitted your sweet spot without any error; he still remembered your body clearly. His cock rubbed against your tight wall while his pelvis grazed your clit. Breathless, you tilted your head back against the pillow and let out a gasp, feeling him to go deeper as if breaking through your limit. Yet, the sensation was so delightful that it nearly overshadowed the discomfort of menstrual cramps.

He could feel your blood flow out more as he slid deeper each time. Imagine that it was cum but not blood made him feel better, even more excited. It was too good to be so deep inside of you. Your wall kept squeezing and sucking him in, giving him a wave of pleasure. Guided by his desire, he left your legs up to fold you as a mating press, gripping your thighs as a support, drawing his hips backward before shoving into your soaked cunt.

"Yu…yunho…" Choppy moaning and the skin slapping sound mixed in the room, urging both of you to lose in this love making. "Don't be too loud." He pressed his lips against yours to muffle your groan, only a soft whine left your tongue as he fucked you rougher and rougher.

"Shit, I think I can't last long." Parting from your lips, he sat up straight and settled his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth roughly to chase his high. "Yu…yu…ahh…fuck!" "Call me like this again, honey." "Yuyu, please…" The bed trembled fiercely, the vibrations nearly overpowering your soft cries. Your fingers turned pale as they clutched the pillow tightly, a tight knot twisting in your stomach.

Of course, he knew you were on your limit, and he was either. His cock twitched each time his tip battered your spot, all the heat rushed to it. "Cum for me, honey. Let me feel you again." His words pushed you to the edge and came hard, dripping on the towel. "Goodness, you squirted. Feel that good?" His thrusts lost his rhythm as he lifted his head up, then cumming all in the condom with a long-throaty moan.

Breathing hard, he fell against you, pressing his lips to yours. "Do you feel okay now?" "Yeah…thank you." He tenderly brushed your hair back, his fingers gliding over your flushed cheek. "I was afraid we might never see each other again." You whispered. "Yet here we are." He grasped your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it, his voice as soothing as it was before your relationship began.

"I think…I still love you." Yunho admitted, causing tears to shimmer in your eyes. "I feel the same way. But…" The shadows of your past loomed over you, a relentless specter. You were terrified, terrified of reliving the heartache. "It's alright, Y/N. Take all the time you need." He understood your fears, resolute in his patience, choosing to let things unfold naturally. You nodded, enjoying the solace in his embrace.

Thanks to his treatment and care, you soon could be discharged from the hospital.

"Please don't overuse your power again. I really don't want to see you in the hospital," Yunho repeated, concern etched on his face.

"Can you cut down on the lecture?" You rolled your eyes, a light laugh escaping your lips. "Honestly, you sound just like my mom."

"What? I'm just looking out for you," Yunho shot back. "You act like a little kid who refuses to grow up."

"A kid? I'm a grown woman! I can handle myself just fine." "Then you won't be at the hospital every week." You pouted, crossing your arms. "Anyway, I have to go. Bye!" As you turned to leave, he called out to you.

"Hey, y/n."

"What?"

"Here." Yunho pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to you, revealing his phone number.

"Your number?" You tilted your head, intrigued.

"Yep. I changed it. Call me if you ever need anything."

"Thanks!" A smile spread across your face, warmed by his gesture. "But I'm not looking for a mom." Yunho's smile faltered at your words, uncertainty creeping in.

"Kidding." You teased, finding his reaction endearing.

"You should make up for me then." he said, stepping closer and lowering himself to meet your gaze.

"Why?"

"Cuz you hurt me." He pouted, looking so adorable. You suddenly gave a peck on his cheek, making heat rush to your cheeks.

"I gotta go now."

"See you then." He gently ruffled your hair, a smile lingering on his lips. "Don't hesitate to call." You nodded, turning to leave.

Perhaps the fog of yesterday will gradually lift, yet you still require just a bit more, only a touch more time. But never mind because Yunho will wait for you. He would never lose you again, never.

tag list:@angelsaway

[helaintoloki]

The Ghost of You

pairing: Sparrow!Ben x reader

warnings: language, angst

notes: i got a request for sparrow!ben angst and a request for a continuation of relenting/keep your enemies closer so i thought why not do both

summary: reality finally sets in for you and Ben

“Does it hurt?”

“Only a little,” you admit with an indifferent shrug as you show off your fresh stitches to an uneasy Ben. The day’s mission had been an overall success but not without any damage done. You’d taken a nasty hit defending Diego from an attacker that had been planning to ambush him, and if not for Luther quickly rushing you out of there your injuries very well could have been much worse. “Grace says if I take care of it enough the scarring won’t be as bad.”

“You really scared the shit out of me, you know,” Ben admits through a shaky breath. “I didn’t see what happened, but when I saw Luther carrying you away I assumed the worst.”

“You know it’s kind of hard for me to die, right?” You remind him teasingly, but when you see that the apprehension in his features hasn’t melted away at your words you quickly reach for his hand and give it a tight squeeze. “Hey, I’m fine. I could never leave you- we’re in this together, remember? You and me forever just like we said.”

A small smile manages to break through his worried expression as he returns the gesture and gives your hand a careful squeeze. In the safety of your bedroom he knows that nothing can harm you, and as long you’re together everything will be okay.

“Forever,” he agrees with a firm nod, his voice echoing in the distant corners of your mind.

You wake with a start, heavily gasping for air as if you haven’t been breathing the entire time you’ve been asleep. Your chest feels tight and tears immediately spring to your eyes as your mind desperately tries to grasp at the remnants of the memory that had taken over your dreams. That had been the last time you’d seen Ben before the accident, before you’d been benched from the team because of your injury and failed to be present to protect him from death. You’ll never get over that night, and you’ll never get over him, which is why you feel sick to your stomach with guilt when you finally remember that you didn’t go to bed alone last night.

Ben sleeps soundly beside you, never once stirring from your movements, and in his sleep the Sparrow almost looks less mean. He almost looks like your Ben again, and you feel horrible for thinking that. What kind of woman were you to sleep with another version of your dead boyfriend in some sick form of coping with the loss of what could have been.

His arm across your waist suddenly feels uncomfortable heavy, and as your eyes trail along his forearm and down to the tips of his fingers you realize your shirt has ridden up and his fingers are splayed across the gnarled scar on your abdomen. Grace had been right about needing to take care of it in order to minimize the damage; after Ben’s death you hadn’t bothered to take care of yourself let alone worry about your stitching. Everything is suddenly too much for you and you’re forced to shove the man away from you before you begin to suffocate.

“What’s going on?” He complains with a hoarse groan, finally stirring awake after your erratic movements. The sheets pool at his bare waist as he sits up in bed and blearily rubs the rest of the sleep away from his eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper in a shaky voice as you begin to scour the floor for your clothes that had been carelessly tossed aside the night before.

“Can’t do what?” Ben retorts in annoyance. He doesn’t enjoy being woken up out of his own volition, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy having to deal with other people’s emotions this early in the morning.

“This-!” You exclaim emphatically before wildly gesturing between him and yourself. “Us! It was one thing sleeping with you when I thought the world was ending and nothing mattered, but it’s been six years! I can’t keep acting like this relationship is normal when it’s not!”

“Newsflash sweetheart, nothing about either of us has ever been normal,” Ben reminds you almost condescendingly, your outburst clearly upsetting him. “So what if we’re not from the same timeline or whatever it is you want to call it? Why does that matter? I’m still Ben-“

“You’re not my Ben!” You cry out in exasperation. Your harsh comment stuns him into silence, and now all either of you can do is stare at each other while you sit in tense silence. Tears stream down your face as you desperately clutch at your chest in hopes the pain will stop. Trembling, you continue, “The only thing you two have in common is a face. You’re nothing like him, and I was so stupid for thinking that maybe you could be.”

“So that’s it?” He retorts harshly as his hardened eyes bore into your soul. Though Ben masks it as anger, your words dig deep into his chest. You’re not the only one that’s lost someone, and you have no idea how painful it is to have the woman who looks and sounds exactly like your lost love tell you she wants absolutely nothing to do with you. “Just because I’m not some softie loser you won’t even try to make this work?”

“He was more than that,” you correct him with a pitiful laugh, carelessly wiping away your tears. “And the fact that you don’t get that is exactly why this won’t work. You need to go.”

You say nothing more as you wordlessly lock yourself in the bathroom and allow him the chance to gather his things and go. With your back pressed against the door, you slowly sink to the floor and hold your head in your hands as you begin to sob.

He isn’t your Ben, you know this, and yet a part of you desperately wishes he was.