#now I’m having to say soothing things out loud to myself

[questionably-audhd-oracle]

Yall I feel as though I am on the edge of a genuine fucking tweak out and I’m not there yet but I also don’t see anything stopping me from getting there and I feel very helpless honestly

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

i'm tired, darling.

featuring... ❥ zhongli, al haitham, jing yuan, blade

involves... ❥ hurt/comfort(-ish), implied self-harm, suicidal thoughts/behavior, probably incoherent, not proofread

through the thousands years of his life, through the plethora of sounds that could bring both fear and sadness to the god of stone’s heart, one stands out most; and he is forced to relive this moment as his ears picked up your heart-wrenching wail and loud sobs from the bedroom. he pays no mind to the clatter of his shoes nor the crumple of his signature coat to the floor, missing its intended place at the coat hanger. all he knows is that you’re in pain — his mate is in pain.

zhongli finds you curled in your nest, trembling and buying your head into your favorite pillow. his chest tightens when you peek at him, and he sees the rain of tears staining your cheeks, eyelashes matted and lips quivering. a variety of emotions wells inside him, but he’s sure it’s nowhere near intense as what you’re experiencing right now.

“darling…,” your husband whispers, stepping closer slowly, reaching forward cautiously like he’s approaching a wounded animal, “can i come closer?”

you can’t seem to reply, busy hiccuping and teetering the edges of hyperventilating. wilting and rotting like a flower that’s been rained for far too long. struggling to stay alive, and yet the petals are falling, the leaves crushed, the thin stem drooping.

your skin is marred, and in turn a pained frown mar his face. his gloves are taken off haphazardly, and they gently settle on your back, trying to rub soothing patterns. he knows not to speak, yet he makes sure you won’t be in further danger for yourself.

it’s a slow process, for you to unlatch yourself from the pillow and delve into his embrace instead. but when you finally do after a series of patient coaxing and comforting touches, he holds you tighter.

just hold on, please just hold on. his warm hand cradles your nape, reassuring and solid, while the other squeezes against the flesh of your back. this too shall pass. his lips press against your shoulder; reverent, loving, apologetic. i love you.

for a man who has his way with words, there are just as many unspoken words in each of his silent actions. he can only hope it's enough to tide you for tonight. at least for tonight.

“everything hurts.”

“i don’t know what's wrong.”

“i’m so tired.”

there are many things al haitham knows the answer to. those that he doesn't would normally require some deep research, but at the end of the day he comes out a renewed man who could potentially give a few presentations about said topic if he so wished. but matters of the heart are notoriously fickle, complicated, and perhaps ironically beyond human understanding.

“i don’t know how you can help. i don't know how to even help myself.”

all he can do is hold you, and he is plunged into the enlightening pit that is the realization about the powerlessness of a mortal, as he feels the shaking of your body within his arms. the sharp mind he is often praised and insulted for and the body he trains daily for precautions are useless against this intangible enemy.

what was he to say? “it’s okay”? when he couldn’t guarantee that it would be? “you’ll be okay”? wouldn’t that imply you should have the capability to make yourself okay? “it’ll get better”? wouldn’t it be overly optimistic and naive to believe the world will just somehow align itself to pave a path of flowers for you?

too many uncertainties. too lacking of valid evidences to support his case. broken and as worn out as you may be, you are not a fool, and such is a trait that he will continue to adore about you. the treatment as an equal is what you deserve, even when you’re in your lowest moment.

so he settles with something he knows will be factually true and has a complete control over:

“i’m always here for you.”

everyone equates silence to peace, yet often fails to account silence as suffering.

centuries of living, and jing yuan too manages to make the same mistake. there’s something haunting about the way you lay on your shared bed today. and now that he thinks about it more, yesterday… and the days before, too. something unnatural in your smiles, in the way it slips far too quickly and the way you always close your eyes, as if to hide something. the way you keep your nails short, the nail clipper making itself home on your nightstand and used every morning and every night, almost in desperation. the nights where he would fall asleep to your snore are quiet: the room listens to his breaths and the tranquil chirps of the cicadas outside.

silence.

silence.

silence.

silence.

“darling, something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me.”

you look at him like you’re tired of life itself, and his heart freezes. in a second, he drops onto the bed and cups your cheek. by now you should have berated him not to wear his work clothes and climb onto bed with them, and yet all he’s met with is

silence.

and a shaky breath, before you finally speak, soft and uncertain and numb.

“why can’t it all just end, yuan?”

he can give you a hundred reasons. because it means he won’t be able to see you smile anymore. because it means he won’t be able to make you laugh. because it means he won’t be able to kiss you, make love to you, treat you like the priceless treasure…

… that he has utterly failed to do.

“i’m sorry, darling. i was ignorant. when did this start?” he pleads. the man commanding an entire ship that may as well be a nation in itself grovels willingly before you, his hand cradling yours before bringing it up to his lips. your knight nuzzles your palm, observes the way your eyes turns glassy, a tear slowly sliding down your temple onto the halo of your hair.

“let’s end this silence and talk to me…. please?”

“countless times. countless. times…,” his breath shudders, jaw clenching before his lips reopen, “… you tell me, again and again, to be careful with my body. and yet i come back to see this…”

blade’s breath hitches, and perhaps a stab to the heart would be less painful than the way his body seizes up with hurt at the way you promptly apologize, with those godforsaken tears continuing to make a stream of sadness stain your cheeks.

he’s always seen you as a tempered steel, resilient and sharp, yet comforting and reassuring. the star to his night, illuminating and guiding. the sun in his orbit, ever present and shining so brightly.

he forgets that even the strongest blades, too, can break. that any stars can disappear in an instant by a supernova. that a sun continuously burns itself just to shine and will one day, too, burn out like a fizzling candle.

your voice is as cracked as the weapon he wields and it cuts deeper into the scarred remains of his cursed heart. he swallows thickly, yet the lump in his throat refuses to cease. rough hands tightening before his arms bring you into a painful embrace. just like the way you hold him whenever the nightmares visit. he tries to wipe your crystalline tears with his fingers, watches sorrowfully as your swollen eyes glazes and the whites of your eyes fills with red lines. the grief you experience is harrowing, and he wonders if this is how you feel whenever you see him suffer: powerless, bleak, tortured.

“don’t cry.” would it truly suffice to just hold you like this?

“don’t cry.” would it be better to kill everything you’ve ever interacted with so you won’t be hurt further?

“don’t cry.” would it be better to remove himself from your life…?

“i’ll give you everything,” he finds his own voice break, “everything… so please stop crying.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

but i crumble completely when you cry . .

katsuki comforts you

katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

[oreosmama]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

[rainswriting-blog]

Pickles and Pregnancy

Summary: you were craving pickles and could open the jar your husband came to the rescue.

Warning(s): pregnant reader, a bruise ego lol

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’re standing in the kitchen, glaring at the stubborn jar of pickles in your hand. You’ve tried every trick—banging the lid, using a dish towel—but it won’t budge. Frustrated, you mutter under your breath and raise the jar as if to throw it on the ground.

Just as you’re about to let go, a gloved hand catches your wrist.

“Easy there, love,” Ghost’s voice rumbles softly behind you. He takes the jar from your hand effortlessly. “You’re going to scare the baby with that temper.”

He pops the lid open with a quiet grunt and hands it back to you, his skull mask tilted slightly as if he’s amused.

“Next time, just call me. No need to go full demolition squad,” he teases.

You huff, biting into the pickle almost immediately. “I did call you. You didn’t hear me because you were too busy cleaning your guns.”

His eyes soften, and he sets the jar down before placing his large hand over your belly. The contrast of his rough glove against your soft skin is stark, but his touch is gentle.

“Alright, fair enough,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soothing tone. “How’s the little one doing? Driving you mad with cravings already?”

You lean into his touch, your frustration melting a little. “Yes. And apparently, I’m going to fight every jar in the kitchen before this is over.”

He chuckles, rubbing small circles over your belly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle all the jars. You just take care of our little troublemaker in there.”

John Price

You stare at the jar of pickles, practically vibrating with frustration. The cravings are too strong to ignore, and you’ve had enough. Raising the jar above your head, you prepare to smash it on the kitchen floor.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” Price’s familiar voice stops you mid-swing.

You whirl around to see him standing in the doorway, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Without waiting for an answer, he strides over, takes the jar from your hands, and examines it.

“Pickles, huh?” he says, chuckling under his breath. “Alright, let me help.”

He pulls out a bottle opener from his pocket, using it to break the seal on the jar. The lid pops off with ease, and he hands it back to you with a smirk.

“There you go. No need to destroy the house over it,” he says, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You take a pickle, glaring at him through your first bite. “I wouldn’t have to destroy the house if you didn’t leave me alone to fend for myself.”

He raises a hand in mock surrender, his expression softening. “You’re right, love. My bad. I’ll stick closer from now on. Though I’ll admit, watching you wrestle a jar of pickles was quite entertaining.”

Before you can retort, his hand finds its way to your belly, resting gently over the curve. “And how’s my little troublemaker? Giving you a hard time already?”

You glance down at his hand, your irritation softening. “Your little troublemaker is the reason I was about to smash that jar. Pickles aren’t just a craving—they’re a need right now.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Well, you’ve got me now, love. Pickles, chocolate, whatever you need. I’ll keep you and the little one happy.”

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

The jar of pickles refuses to open, and you’ve had enough. You stomp your foot, raise the jar above your head, and—

“Whoa! Lass, what are you doing?” Soap’s unmistakable Scottish accent rings out as he rushes into the kitchen.

You freeze, jar in hand, and give him a look of pure exasperation. “I can’t open it! I need these pickles, Johnny!”

He bites back a laugh, stepping closer and gently taking the jar from you. “Alright, alright, no need to go smashing things. Let the professional handle it.”

He grips the jar dramatically, flexing his biceps as if the task is monumental. “Prepare to witness a MacTavish miracle!” he declares, twisting the lid.

The jar opens with a loud pop, and he grins triumphantly. “There! Crisis averted!”

You grab a pickle, grumbling, “Show-off.”

He laughs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Admit it—you’d be lost without me.”

You glare at him but can’t hold it for long. “Lost? No. Hungry, maybe. But if you don’t keep this up, I will learn to open these jars myself, and then what would you do?”

His grin widens as he wraps an arm around your waist, his hand settling over your belly. “Guess I’d have to find another way to prove I’m worth keeping around. How’s the wee one, anyway? Demanding more pickles tonight?”

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. “Yes, and apparently, you’re the only one who can keep up with these demands.”

He smirks, gently rubbing your belly. “That’s because I’m a man of many talents, love. You and this little one are in good hands.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

The jar sits stubbornly on the counter, mocking your efforts. You grip it tightly, ready to hurl it at the ground when a hand stops you.

“Whoa there, love. What’s going on?” Gaz asks, stepping in and gently prying the jar from your hands.

“These stupid pickles! I just want one, and it won’t open!” you practically wail.

He chuckles, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Alright, let me have a go.”

Gaz tries twisting the lid, grunting slightly. When it doesn’t budge, he narrows his eyes. “Alright, now it’s personal.”

He grabs a spoon, tapping the edge of the lid a few times before trying again. With a satisfying pop, the jar opens, and he hands it back to you with a grin.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” he quips, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You take a pickle and glare at him as you chew. “Teamwork? You weren’t even here five minutes ago when I was fighting for my life.”

He grins sheepishly, stepping closer and placing a hand over your belly. His fingers are warm and reassuring as he rubs gently. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. Next time, I’ll be here faster. How’s my little pickle monster doing in there?”

You glance at his hand, smiling despite yourself. “Your pickle monster is why I almost destroyed the kitchen tonight.”

He laughs softly, pressing a light kiss to your belly. “Well, I’ll make sure the kitchen survives next time. You and this little one are priority number one.”

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———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Touchdown

pairing: logan x reader

summary: Logan finally gets the college experience through his girlfriend

masterlist requests open

—————————————

The cool autumn breeze greets you as you exit your class. With a shiver, you wish that you grabbed the jacket like Logan suggested. In your defense, the sun was going down at 4pm now, and it was warmer when you left for your class.

“How was class?” Logan asks from your couch as you walk into your house.

“Boring, stupidest requirement ever,” you groan, heading up the stairs to your room. Logan has taken over the house you rent with your friends, and somehow they love him being here.

Since he got dropped from Williams, he kicked around the idea of staying with you rather than going back and forth between Florida and you.

You change into pajama pants and an old Purdue hoodie that you got on a visit during your senior year of high school. As you head back down the stairs with your laptop, you see Logan looking at you from the couch with a smile.

“How was your trip to Ohio?” You ask as you take a seat beside him. He got back from the Meyer Shank Racing headquarters on your way out the door, so you didn’t have a chance to ask earlier.

“It was good. If they bring me on you might have to transfer to Ohio State,” Logan pulls you close, burying his head into your shoulder. You immediately lean away in disgust. The only thing worse would be suggesting you transfer to Indiana.

“Don’t ever say that again,” your voice is firm as Logan raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, pulling you back close to him.

“I will take back your ticket for Saturday,” you threaten, not letting him soothe the bristles. He loves how stubborn you are though, calls it part of your charm.

“Mhmm, who else will be there to listen to you complain about poor coaching decisions?”

“Lo, the team is one and eight. That one win came from an FCS team. Plenty of people in the stadium would love to complain with me,” you snort.

“See, I’m going because I love you. Should I show up in Penn State gear? Start a ‘We Are’ chant? Make myself look better for the fans?” Logan’s shit-eating grin somehow makes you smile despite part of you wanting to roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you laugh, gently shoving him. “But yeah, you may want to do that. The chances of us winning against a playoff team is highly unlikely,”

“I’ll see what I can do then,” Logan kisses the side of your head as you open your laptop. “I’ll make dinner while you work on that,”

“Thanks, Lo,” you smile, watching him walk to your kitchen.

As much as you hate to admit it, a small part of you is happy that Logan was dropped. Every part of you wants him to succeed and be happy, but you cannot deny that is nice having him in America and close more than when he was with Williams. Even if it means him going to Ohio every once in a while for a test drive, you are happy.

Logan won’t admit it out loud either, but he loves the change of pace. He really hated the end of his time with Williams, and the fans were kind of right about his frat energy. He loves living college life through you and your roommates, and he likes that his talents can still be utilized through Indycar.

He peeks around the corner, watching as you concentrate on a math problem. The way you bite your lip, run a hand through your hair as you rack your brain for the right formula, he wouldn’t trade these small moments for anything.

Logan dutifully buys you food and hot chocolate at the game as you hold your seats with the girls. He did wear one of your hoodies, but jokingly joined a nearby tailgate of Penn State fans just to antagonize you. You found it funny, or else it is a break up worthy offense in your book. You don’t mess around your sports fandoms.

“Let’s go!” Logan cheers, turning to look at you. Your face has a mix of disbelief, but also disappointment in your expression. “Why aren’t you cheering, they scored a touchdown?”

“It’s double lined,” you groan, angered at the field design. “He was outside the end zone, the pylon marking the corner was right in front of him when he caught the ball,” you aren’t surprised that the situation is happening, but you didn’t expect it to be so silly.

“That’s so stupid,” Logan pouts for you, watching as the team kicks a field goal instead.

“At least it isn’t a shutout now,” you sigh.

“What’s worse, watching a tractor of a Williams or that team?” Logan asks as you leave, ready to hit the bars to drown the pain of staying the entire game.

“Williams, but only because I had to watch you suffer,” you lean into him, your friends having abandoned you in the middle of the second quarter.

“Well, I’m glad your suffering is over,” Logan chuckles, helping you expertly navigate the crowd.

“I’m really excited for your test drive. Your seat fitting made everything more real,” you smoothly change the topic.

“One step at a time,” Logan plays it down as you head to Harry’s. Luckily for you, you know a bartender well who happens to also be a huge motorsport fan. Every time you bring Logan with you, you immediately get in without paying cover.

“Y/n, come here,” Luke calls out as you pretend to not see him.

“Hey! Are the girls inside?” you ask, knowing he has a crush on your roommate. You and Logan are taking bets on when they get together or hook up.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Luke lets you in, both of you getting engulfed by the crowd as you find the table your roommates are at.

“I’ll get drinks, go ahead and order us food,” Logan says as you reach the table, going back into the crowd.

“How was the rest of the game?” Millie asks, sipping her almost empty cup.

“Cold and miserable,” you plop into one of the two saved seats.

“Maybe next week against Michigan State?” Lainey tries to add hope.

“We couldn’t even beat Northwestern, it’s time to turn our focus to basketball,” Valerie counters.

“We should’ve left when you did,” you sigh.

“It could be worse, you could be home sick like Kristen is,” Millie offers.

“True, should we bring her back some food?” you ask, looking at the menu despite knowing what you will order.

“Already ordered soup on Doordash for her,”

“Thanks Val, I’ll pay you back since it was my turn,” you pull up Venmo. You take turns doordashing food for each other when sick, a silly tradition you started as Freshmen.

You discuss the upcoming season for basketball until Logan returns.

“Perfect timing, the waitress is walking over now,” you smile, handing him the menu as you take your drink.

“To forgetting today’s game,” Lainey toasts once the waitress is gone, earning a round of cheers from your table.

As you continue drinking, the air feels light with laughter. Logan’s arm around your chair, you leaning into him, and the voices of your roommates ringing out as they playfully argue. Logan joins in, adding to what he thinks the best Barbie movie is.

That’s how you all find yourselves stumbling home, curling up in the living room, and watching what was decided as the best one.

“You guys are so loud,” Kristen groans from the couch, sounding very congested.

“Sorry K,” Millie practically yells, causing everyone to wince.

Logan leaves relatively early the next morning to fly out to California for his test, making sure there is coffee brewed to help your hangovers.

“You know, I’ve always been against boyfriends as an extra roommate, but I think Logan’s an exception,” Valerie says as she nurses her coffee.

“He said he’d help with the Christmas party,” Lainey adds, earning a nod of approval from Valerie.

“I’m glad you guys approve, it’s been hard with him being dropped,” you admit.

Logan has been living for the college life. He joins in on girls nights when invited, eagerly joining in on gossip and buying wine. He even wears face masks sometimes.

One day after Thanksgiving, you all return from classes to find the house decorated, even a tree in the living room.

“What the hell?” you ask, shocked at the decorations. Logan appears from the kitchen, a santa hat on his head as he carries a box of lights.

“I’m about to hang these on the porch, butter for tonight is set out,” Logan smiles, walking past your group.

“If you don’t marry him I will,” Kristen says, dropping her backpack.

“Ditto,” Lainey laughs.

“Shush,” you blush, heading to the kitchen to see the recipe cards pulled out as well as most of the ingredients you need for your cookie baking night.

The small things like that continue throughout the spring semester, so much so that the girls insist that he joins in one of your graduation pictures. Logan offers to use his connections to get you a job, but you refuse. You want to try different sectors and apply to them before utilizing his motorsport contacts.

“Congratulations,” Logan kisses you once he finds you and the girls.

“Thanks, Lo” you smile, full of pride.

He meets you and your parents back at the house the next day, a pang of sadness hitting both of you.

The house feels empty. You have been packing and moving boxes all week, preparing for graduation and moving on from Purdue. Only the essentials remain, a stark contrast from how Logan first came to know you and your roommates. For you and the girls, it’s the end of an era. You are all going your separate ways, spreading across the country.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Logan says, holding a box of your things. He stands beside you on the porch, looking inside. There is no sign that anyone actively lives in it other than a couple lights on and a fan running.

“Me too. I can’t wait to spend the summer following you though,” you smile, shifting the weight of a box in your arms.

“We will come back soon. Maybe Purdue will have a winning football record this year,” Logan says, eliciting a snort from you.

“Doubt it.”

[gudfornuthin]

Hello I made a request a while back but you never got to it and that is completely okay! I understand completely being a writer myself. I was wondering if I could make a different request but not sure if you do it? It’s a request for Billy from stranger things?

Idea- Yn and Billy have been together for a few years and Billy survives when he is attacked. Ever since YN has hard time with nightmares but doesn’t tell Billy about it. And YN stays the night at his place and wakes up from a nightmare calling out for Billy and doesn’t see him in bed. Max comes in to trying to calm her down but YN thinks Billy is dead. Billy comes from outside in when he heard loud crying and shouting from his girlfriend. And he holds her telling her he is going nowhere and he is okay.

( Nickname: Baby or Babygirl ) if possible

I hope this isn’t too over barring but if so I completely understand. And won’t be upset if you turn down my request. Thank you for hearing me out my love!

Not going anywhere

Billy Hargrove x reader

A/N: so I’m back into my writing hit! I do apologise anon for taking way too long to do this, and idk if the other request ever came through, as my tumblr says I have three but it’s only showing this one. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and hopefully imma be writing a lot more from now on. Feedback is appreciated :)

The mall was in ruins. The Mind Flayer continued its rampage, smashing anything that got in its way. The group consisting of teens and adults had split up just moments ago, putting their plan into motion and hoping to pull it off. It all came down to this moment, defeating the monster and making it home safe.

Y/N hides behind a turned over table, battered and bruised with an arm that’s most definitely broken. She’s not a hero. She’s not used to this life, dealing with these nonsensical creatures. Her boyfriend and his sister are to blame for that.

Billy wasn’t the asshole play boy everyone claimed him to be. Not since they started dating. He’s soft, and kind, and cares. Sometimes too much. He’d never dreamed of dragging Y/N into this mess, but love does stupid things to a person. And she definitely wasn’t letting him go through all this alone.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she finally hears his shouts not far from her hiding place. She pops her head up slightly, and spots Billy running towards her.

“Baby?” His eyes land on her. “Oh thank god, I was wondering where the hell you were.”

Y/N stands up, moving towards him, wanting nothing more than to hold him tight and never let go. Before she has the chance to reach him, a long arm crashes through the wall, heading directly for Billy. The Mind Flayer. It pierces him in the chest, black sludge spurting from his mouth. Y/N lets out a visceral scream, falling to her knees. She looks into the eyes of her dying boyfriend, knowing there’s nothing she can do to help him.

Arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, pulling her away from the massacre before her. She turns her head, coming face to face with Billy’s sister Max, a sad expression on her face.

“Y/N?”

“He’s dead,” she replies to Max, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved him. He’s fucking dead.”

“Y/N please-”

Max’s words fall on deaf ears. “No, I can’t do this.”

“Y/N, you have to wake up.”

“He’s fucking dead!”

“Y/N! Wake. Up!”

Y/N jolts up from her lying position, sweat covering her entire body, breathing heavily. Max sits in front of her, hands on her shoulders. She looks terrified.

Y/N glances to her left, the space next to her empty. She starts to panic again.

“Where’s Billy?”

“Y/N you need to calm down-”

“The Mind Flayer, it got to him.”

Max shakes her head. “Hey, he’s just gone outside to-”

Y/N pulls at her hair, more tears threatening to fall. “No, he’s dead. I just saw him die, and I couldn’t do anything.”

She continues mumbling under her breath, ignoring Max’s pleas, promising her he’s okay. She hugs her stomach, falling on her side and closing her eyes. Max tries soothing the girl, but once again nothing works. There’s only one person who can fix this, and even though Max knows he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his ‘brooding smoke session’, she thinks he’ll let it slide this once. For his girl.

***

Billy stands outside the house, shirtless, with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He’s thought about quitting, having this conversation on the daily with Y/N. She doesn’t mind too much, just hates the smell. He doesn’t smoke indoors anymore, and always has a can of body spray and a pack of mint gums on hand. For her.

He takes a final drag, when Max rushes out the house, almost toppling over him. Her face almost matches her hair, as she grabs his arm and pulls him towards the front door.

“Maxine, do you fucking mind?” He tries not to snap at her as much as he used to, but sometimes it’s hard not to. “I can’t have five minutes of me time?”

Max continues dragging him. “It’s Y/N.”

That catches his attention, as he pushes her hand off his arm and runs into the house, not bothering to ask any questions.

He makes his way to his bedroom, pushing the door open and spotting his girlfriend lying in a curled up ball on the bed, hands on her face and sobs shaking her body. He sits down next to her, hands resting on her back as he lowers his voice just so she can hear.

“Y/N, baby?”

She doesn’t respond, but her breathing slows, acknowledging his words. Billy runs his hands down to her arms, then her face, gently lifting her head. He runs his thumbs over her eyes, and she finally opens them, bloodshot and red.

“Billy?”

He kisses her briefly on the lips. “I’m here baby girl. I’m right here.”

“I thought you’d-” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but Billy can guess where it was going.

“I’m okay, see,” he kisses her again, then her cheeks, then the crown of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As if waking from a trance, Y/N throws herself at Billy, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He hugs her back, his arms snaking around her waist, pressing his face into her hair. They stay there for what seems like hours, both not realising how badly they needed comfort from each other. They were together, and that’s all that mattered.

[cheynovak]

Between power and freedom

Part 13 - Final

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character     

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: nothing explicit

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I had to convince Dean I had nothing to do with Charlie’s accident. I rushed home, hoping to gather the photos and papers so I might have a change against Chuck. But when I got there, my heart sank.

The front door was wide open, and my apartment was trashed. Everything was gone. Either my dad—or rather, Chuck—had sent someone to clean up the evidence, or Dean had come back in a fit of anger. I sank to the floor, overwhelmed by the chaos and the weight of it all.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to piece together what to do next. After what felt like hours, I forced myself to get up. I couldn’t stay here.

Grabbing my keys, I climbed into my car and drove straight to Bobby’s place.

When Bobby opened the door, his face softened with concern as he saw my tear-streaked face. “Y/N?” he asked, his gruff voice filled with worry. I didn’t say a word, just stepped inside. Karen appeared behind him, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately.

She pulled me into a comforting hug as I broke down in her arms. “What happened?” Bobby asked, his tone now sharp with anger. Through my sobs, I managed to get out, “Chuck… Charlie... Dean knows. And he thinks it was me.” My voice cracked, the words spilling out in a jumbled mess.

“I don’t want anything to do with Chuck anymore. I won’t be a bargaining chip. I just want Dean to understand—it wasn’t me. It was him. Please… I just need help.” Karen rubbed soothing circles on my back while Bobby’s expression turned stormy. He muttered something under his breath, probably cursing Chuck.

“Alright,” Bobby said after a moment. “We’ll figure this out. But first, you need to calm down. Karen, get her some tea.” As Karen led me to the couch, Bobby grabbed his phone. “I’m calling Dean over. You’re going to explain everything to him.”

I hesitated, my voice trembling. “He’s so angry, Bobby. What if he doesn’t listen? What if he…” My words trailed off as I remembered the fire in Dean’s eyes earlier. Bobby’s gaze softened. “Listen, Dean might be hot-headed, but he’s not unreasonable. If you tell him the truth, and I’m standing here backing you up, he’ll hear you out. But,” he added with a wry smile, “just to be safe, you might wanna move your car. You know how he gets when he’s mad.”

I gave a weak laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. “I don’t care if he breaks it, burns it… I don’t want anything from Chuck. I just need Dean to believe me.” Karen handed me a warm cup of tea, her voice gentle.

“Sweetheart, he’ll believe you. He loves you. He’s just hurt right now. But love doesn’t go away that easily.” Her words gave me a flicker of hope, and I nodded. I wiped my face, steeling myself for the confrontation to come. All I could do now was hope that Dean would give me the chance to explain and see the truth in my eyes.

While we waited for Dean to arrive, I sat in silence, staring into my cup of tea. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I finally found the courage to say it out loud.

“I know Chuck isn’t my biological dad,” I whispered. Bobby’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “You know?” he asked softly. I nodded, my voice shaky but resolute. “He told me today... I don’t want anything from you, Bobby. I don’t want to make things complicated or cause more trouble. I just want this mess to be over.”

Karen, who had been sitting quietly, leaned forward and cut me off before I could say more. “Don’t be foolish,” she said firmly. “You where family since the day you walked through that door. If Chuck hadn't hide you we would have welcomed you earlier into this family .”

Her words made me smile faintly, I had no idea what happened between Bobby and my mom, had he know Karen, where they on a break? I wasn't planning on asking, but the peace didn’t last.

The unmistakable growl of the Impala’s engine reached my ears, followed by the screech of its brakes. My heart leapt into my throat. Dean stormed in, his expression hard and his movements tense. The moment he saw me, his green eyes flashed with anger.

“Oh, hell no!” he spat, striding toward me. He didn’t get far before Bobby stepped in front of him, his arms outstretched. “Calm down, boy!” Bobby bellowed, his voice filled with authority. “She’s innocent.”

Dean glared at him, his voice dripping with disbelief. “How do you know that?” Bobby's voice softened but stayed firm. “Because my daughter wouldn’t kill, and I trust her.” Dean’s face twisted in confusion. “Your daughter?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. “Dean,” I said, my voice shaking but determined. “Please. Please just listen to me.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might storm out. Instead, he pointed toward the door. “You want to talk?” he said coldly. “Fine. Outside.”

Before I could react, Dean grabbed my elbow and started guiding me out of the house. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, and the tension in the air was palpable.

As we reached the Impala, Bobby’s voice boomed from behind us. “You better bring her back in one piece, or I’ll find you, idjit!”

Dean didn’t respond, but his shoulders tensed as he opened the car door and gestured for me to get in. My heart pounded as I slid into the passenger seat, unsure of what would happen next.

Dean gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He kept his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead, his jaw clenched. The silence in the car was suffocating, and the tension made my chest ache.

“Where are we going?” I asked cautiously, breaking the stillness. “Don’t know,” he replied curtly. “I’ve been driving all night. Blowing off steam so I don’t do... something crazy.”

The rawness in his voice sent a chill down my spine. His admission scared me, but I knew I had to push through the fear. “You wanted to talk,” he bit out. “So talk.” I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to tell him everything.

“Dean,” I began softly, “I need you to know the truth. Chuck isn’t my dad, not really. He’s been using me, just like he used John, just like he used you.” Dean’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly, but his face remained cold. “At first, yeah, he told me to get close to you,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“But that changed, Dean. I fell for you, really fell for you. None of this was supposed to happen, and I swear, I had nothing to do with Charlie.” Dean pulled the Impala into the empty lot of an abandoned movie theater, the car coming to a halt with a soft crunch of gravel.

He didn’t say a word as he leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. We sat there in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words. I studied his rugged features, the tired lines etched into his face. He looked worn out, like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I needed him to hear it at least one more time, even if he didn’t believe me. Dean exhaled slowly, his hand falling from his face. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

His green eyes, filled with disappointment, finally met mine. Tears welled in my eyes as I pleaded, my voice breaking. “I’m telling the truth, Dean. Please. Break my car, burn my house, cut my heart out and stand on it—hell, do whatever you need to do. But please, please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with Charlie.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, the silence stretching between us like an insurmountable wall. The look in his eyes told me he was at war with himself. Finally, he shook his head and turned away, staring out the windshield into the night.

“God, I want to believe you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I moved closer, my hand touched to his shoulder. "I beg you." My lips kissed his shoulder. I could feel him tense. He turn to look at me. My lips still on his shirt. "Please believe me. I'll do anything Dean, but I can't lose you too."

His rough hand grabs my hair on the back of my head. I gasp afraid he might hurt me but he doesn't. Instead he kissed me. First I was in shock but then I stiffened a moan.

Dean’s shoulders trembled beneath my hands as he pulled away and pulled me closer, straddling his thighs, he burying his face against my chest.

His grip was firm, desperate, like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment. I felt his hot tears soak through my shirt, and the soft sound of his sniffles broke something in me.

He was crying, the strong man, who could burn the world was holding me and crying.

“Dean,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair and along the nape of his neck. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, cradling him.

“I’ve got you... I’ve got you.”

His body shook as he let himself go, years of pain, frustration, and guilt pouring out all at once. I held him tighter, murmuring soft reassurances over and over.

“I’m here."

"I’m not going anywhere.”

We sat like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten. My hands moved gently, caressing his hair and back, soothing him as best as I could.

His cries gradually subsided into deep, ragged breaths. When he finally lifted his head, his red, tear-streaked eyes met mine, and my heart broke all over again.

“I want to hurt Chuck, he has to pay.” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “We will,” I promised, cupping his face with my hands. “We’ll get all the evidence you need. I’ll help you bring him and his empire down, Dean. I swear it.”

His lips found mine again, desperate and needy, tasting of salt and sorrow. I kissed him back, pouring all my love and determination into it, letting him know I wasn’t going to leave him. No matter how hard it got, I’d be there for him.

“I need you,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a quiet plea. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly, pressing my forehead against his.

We stayed in the quiet cocoon of the Impala, holding each other as the weight of our promise sank in.

Chuck’s empire would fall, and we’d do it together, no matter what it took.

I'd watch the world burn by his side if that's what he needed.

Why?

Because I love him.

--

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[spencerreidsbookfairy]

SET UP.

famous!readers back you guys and its angstier than ever.

Okay so I skipped dinner.

I physically couldn’t handle the expected awkwardness 

I lied and told him my manager needed to to talk me and it was urgent

He's a profiler you dumb bitch

Part of me feels bad, but it’s not like I don’t want to make amends with him and his team; it’s just that ever since I was a little girl, I’ve struggled with confrontation, and it’s followed me into adulthood. I know avoiding the issue won’t make it go away, and I’m fully aware that he probably sees right through my excuse. Still, the thought of facing him and his team, of having to explain myself and potentially deal with their disappointment, feels like too much to handle right now. It’s frustrating to be so paralyzed by something as simple as a conversation, but I’m hoping that with time and a bit of courage, I can find a way to address it.

Adding to my anxiety about confronting them is the lingering sting of how they treated me behind my back. I’d overheard them making fun of my singing and mocking my songs, which felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just the hurtful comments but the sense of betrayal from a group I had hoped would be supportive. The thought of facing them now feels like stepping into a hostile environment, where every word and gesture might be laced with judgment or ridicule. This makes my reluctance to confront the situation even more overwhelming, as the fear of being dismissed or belittled looms large.

On top of everything, I already feel incredibly insecure about being around Spencer’s team. Here I am, a singer trying to make a name for myself, while they’re FBI profilers, experts in their field, and it’s hard not to feel like my career is a joke in comparison. The stark contrast between our worlds—my creative, emotionally driven profession versus their analytical, high-stakes work—makes me question if I even belong in their presence. Every interaction feels like an unspoken judgment of my career choice, amplifying my insecurities and making me doubt whether my passion for music is taken seriously or just seen as a frivolous hobby in their eyes.

I then decide to go out to a party to self soothe God knows i need it, seeing all my friends 

Bella, gigi and ariana all my friends making it their duty to make me feel better about my current situationship

I then see a blonde, gorgeous woman walk into the club 

Its lila archer

No.

No.

Lila always secretly resented me, for what reason i'm not sure, but one thing i do know is that i'm not the problem lilas notorious for being a huge bitch to almost everyone she comes in contact with. Her fame getting to head 24/7 I truly want someone to shoot me if i ever turn out to be like her, so rude so dismissive so-

Wait whys she walking over here? Was i talking out loud???? 

“y/nnnnnnn???’’ she dreadfully drags out. ‘’ what are you doing here, everyone else told me youve been at home moping over a guy” voice FILLED with mockery terribly trying to be hidden with concern 

I finally get the courage to say something.

“ wow words get around fast i guess”

“ im here for you you know, if you ever need advice, like beauty advice, or just friend advice”

Oh. 

I already feel immensely insecure around her. her gorgeous eyes, body face, dating history

Before i can say anything back she chirps up and says

‘’ what is his name anyways? Wont spill the beans, promise.”

“Spencer.”

‘’ wow so I don't get a last name” she says and laughs, " that poisonous laugh will kill me one day.

‘“Reid.’’

I can see the knowing smirk forming on her face and i'm confused on whats humorous about his name

‘’ oh my god, you mean FBI spencer reid, that dirty dog just can’t get enough of the public eye girls can he, he sure does have a mouth on him though.’’

Fuck. my. Life. 

He said i was his  first girlfriend,

Im hyperventilating internally 

‘’ maybe you're thinking of someone else lila, spencer said i'm his first girlfriend”

‘’ Oh you probably are, we still had fun though, he saved my life. Of course I'd reward him for it.”

I swear the music in the club stopped when she said that

‘’ excuse me.’’

I say as i quickly power walk out the nightclub and into my car to go home

You might be asking why i'm freaking out so bad

Spencer told me we were each others first time.

I gave him my virginity thinking it was his first time too.

He lied.

He lied.

He lied.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

I see you doing BEAUTIFUL soul soothing slice of life Zack stuff.

I ask for Zack first because..I'm weird but please do feel free to include the firsts and HOJO!, BECAUSE I've never seen anyone do hojo love, it's wild!

What,would zack do for his lover having a migraine? How would he comfort/cuddle/spoil...

Cook special food? Pet names? Home remedies?

THANK YOU! LMAO I’ve been told I’m the most down bad individual people have met due to my love of Hojo. 10/10 would tie that man to the cross and do my thing with him.

I love this ask cause I’m prone to migraines. I have also tortured myself trying to make them stop. I lock myself in the closet to get away from any sounds and light these days. Good god I’m probably too eager to write Hojo’s.

____________________________________________

Zack “put em in a pack” Fair

I’m certain you have to thoroughly explain what a migraine is to him. The first time you said you had a migraine he continued doing everything at his usual “Zack Volume” fuckin loud. Shiva bless his heart but he lacks brain cells. You told him to quiet down and now he won’t stop whispering everything, that man will whisper in uppercase from the other room.

Now that he understands, he must make a routine for you. Yes yes, that man headed straight to Moogle Search to look up home remedies. It would turn into Zack’s first crime against humanity. Making you a cup of turmeric and ginger based tea, accompanied by an aftertaste so foul you weren’t sure you wanted to even ask what he put in it. As hard as you try, your face says it all and now he’s got the sad puppy eyes, “but baby I really tried.” In that cute pouty voice of his, you know the one he’s still whispering. Please let him know you appreciate the effort but not the attempt at murder.

If there is any medicine that helps relive your pain he’ll have it on hand. He even keeps a supply at his own home, going as far as to carry it around when you’re together because Zack knows they randomly sprout up. He’s learned “the squint” as he calls it. Claiming whenever a migraine is creeping in you start squinting at everything. Awn, cute boy is catching on to the cues. After you tell him about visual impairment/eye pain that can accompany your migraines he’s back on the internet finding ways to relive that too. (Pls Zack it’s not gonna help just cuddle)

After months of trying numerous concoctions Zack would attempt to make you once again, Shiva bless his heart. Despite you telling him in advance, he finally concludes these do not help and he can't really do much about it, it made him feel a bit useless. “ ‘cause if I can’t help my baby, what am I doing?” Telling Zack that everything else he does is perfect when he’s trying to make you feel better. He provides you lots of cuddles, only leaving the bed when he’s certain you’re asleep, though it’s only for necessities. Zack very much prefers to keep you against him as long as humanly possible. You’re his "little kitty", you know the rules with that. If the cat lays on you, you do not move.

Makes sure to turn off any lights, closing all of the curtains/blinds to keep as much light out as possible. Cooking is questionable with him but he can make some of your favorite snacks as long as they’re simple. Anything that he can get you from the store? He’s going to make sure it’s in your possession, even if he has to go completely out of his way to get whatever you want. Nearly every time Zack goes out to get snacks/favorite foods, he brings back a plushie. You have such a large army of plushies that you have to beg him to stop bringing them. Gaia, he even brought you a chibi Zack for when he’s on missions. (You love it, how could you not)

Zack also recognizes sometimes migraines make you nauseous, even causing you to vomit at times. No matter, it doesn’t bother him at all. He’s going to make sure your hair is out of the way, clean you back up, carry you to bed and as you sleep, he’s looking at more home remedies. One thing I can imagine him able to cook is a few types of soups Angeal taught him, to at least get something light on your stomach.

Sephiroth- pillow fort part 2? (he wasn’t allowed much time to be a kid, so he enjoys doing childish activities with you)

This is the man for the job, can’t get your surroundings dark enough? Sephiroth shall begin the construction. He now realizes why you have a million pillows, even taking the pillows and cushions off of your couch to make it more comfortable. Layering blankets and sheets to ensure it’s completely dark in there. He’s ready for his cat house to cuddle you. Stays awake until you fall asleep, it's not really anything new, he's just significantly more adamant about it when you aren't feeling well. Seems a bit sad when you take his fort down due to his "hard work and dedication." It's okay, he knows it can't stay up forever, he'll be able to build another soon.

You’re already overly spoiled by Sephiroth, to which he’d say “there’s never a such thing as too much for you.” He's going to try and find you the best doctors around, not affiliated with Shinra of course. He doesn't want them coming anywhere near you. He knows medicine won't always help, but you know what does? His dick. His outstanding ability to take care of you. Forehead kisses for days. Will scoop you in his lap, holding you until you start dozing off. I don't think this one can cook either, but he'll attempt making your favorite comfort foods until he cooks it exactly to your liking. "nothing less than perfection for you".

He'll go out of his way to buy blackout curtains for his own home. Luckily Sephiroth is extremely quiet, half of the time you don't even know when he arrives. It's like he materializes out of thin air. Due to this you don't have to really ever worry about loud sounds. Finding his voice to be soothing you ask him to read to you until you fall asleep. He's a bit awkward about it at first, but he gets use to it and comes to love doing so.

Angeal (the healer)

Oh yea, you're getting super spoiled by this one. He's putting on his "best chef" apron and getting to work. Not before he tucks you into bed, kissing your forehead and tucking you in, he'll even fluff the pillows. If you like having background sound or really are in the mood to watch something, he has memorized shows/movies that have a minimal amount of ungodly bright scenes. Even turns the brightness down all the way, going as far to adjust the color and of course lowering the volume.

Always asks what kind of food you think your stomach can handle just in case it's one of those nausea inducing migraines. Can make anything you ask or he'll find recipes that are supposed to accommodate your migraines. He's not sure if the home remedies work, but at least you're always happy with each meal he makes you.

Once you're fed and comfortable, Angeal is on his way to wrap you up in his arms. Loves it when you climb on him and rest your head against his chest because you told him his "heartbeat makes me feel better." He's read in an article that pressure points can help alleviate migraines. He has no clue which pressure points to target so he's going to give you a full body massage in hopes that you feel better. hands of god you'll be feeling something alright

Also goes out of his way to buy blackout curtains or anything that may help him keep his home dark when the light is too much. Buys those little motion lights that are dim so when you walk into a room you'll be able to see without it feeling like a flashbang. Angeal doesn't make too much noise either so sound is also not a problem with him. Despite that he gives you a hushed apology any time he thinks he did something too loud.

Genesis (please don't recite Loveless, jk he'd annoy me but i'd love it)

Recites Loveless to you in a hushed tone as you fall asleep on his chest. Genesis is more than willing to read any piece of literature you want, only if you make a special request. He's always going to pull out Loveless by default.

Runs a bath for you, adding a eucalyptus based epsom salt and bubbles to help you relax in hopes to ease some of that tension.(something with a soft scent as strong smells can be too much). "Of course he's aware of your sensitivity to light, in turn lighting a couple of candles to add his romantic flare. He's taking these baths with you, without a doubt. Massaging your back and gently doing the same for your neck. He has an experts touch, that man will make you melt like butter. Loves soaking with you pressed against him, dries you off and tucks you into bed.

This one is also a cook, maybe not as good as Angeal, but definitely not as bad as Sephiroth. Knows your favorite comfort foods and will go out of his way to make it for you as you hide in bed.

Manages to find the best medicine. You're surprised it actually helps. After asking where Genesis got it from you find out he broke into Hojo's lab after a discussion between the two about what was the best treatment for a migraine. Says he stole them because he didn't want the medicine altered as most of his medicines are.

Hojo (my eyes are so far back in my head right now, im excited)

The first time you stumbled into his lab, all but screaming at him to cut of the lights he just stares at you like a madman. "Do you not seeing me working?" I mean, sure you did, once your eyes finally adjust you can see something or someone(????) cut open on a surgical table. Great, migraine increases tenfold.

When he finally finished whatever absurd thing he was doing to that poor carcass he comes to examine you. Maybe you should have gone home instead. Shining that goofy fuckin flashlight directly in your eyes. You tried slapping it out of his hands to which he rolls his eyes as you completely miss his hand stating that "it's a pupil test, I have to check for abnormalities." to which you can't help but tell Hojo that he is the only abnormality.

Injects you with god knows what, but hey, the migraine surprisingly vanished. The next time you come into his lab due to a migraine, he immediately takes into account that you were just here a few days ago over the same thing. Once again taking you back through those oh so annoying examinations before prescribing you some pills. When you question what the pills were he chuckles, telling you in a condescending tone that "you wouldn't remember how to say it even if you tried." With that he tells you to come back after all pills are gone so he can see how you're doing.

Your next visit with Hojo will teach you to never tell him something is wrong with you again. When you began taking the medicine the migraines were easing up, but now it's like they're worse. This time he gives you a different type of medicine, now you're just sleepy. All will be just fine, when you wake up you won't even know he's been poking around your brain.

****************************************************

I’m a bit sad I forgot to put in the random bouts of pure confusion migraines can put you through. I’ll never forget grabbing my airpods and I was pretty certain it was a bar of soap. It wasn’t. I don’t even know how I thought something that small was soap, or how I tried to wash my hands for so long with them

[sturniololoco]

Stressed

M. Sturniolo x fem reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: none. Pure fluff

Note: this is not my first time writing, but it is my first time posting. SO BE NICE! ❤️

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a long week. My stress levels have been through the roof since Monday morning. I’ve been having to work double shifts due to people slacking off, and on top of all that I had to do all the cooking, cleaning, and laundry for three people, NOT including myself.

I live with the Sturniolo triplets, which is one of my many blessings. But sometimes living with three boys can be a lot to handle, especially when they’re busy all week with filming and photo shoots.

But it was finally Friday, and I can now take my time to relax and watch a movie with the boys.

Only that was NOT the case

Friday meant pizza, and pizza meant movie, and movie meant fighting over couch spots, blankets, pillows, and etc. All of these things led to on stop bickering and a constant headache. 

“Chris! What the fuck is wrong with you that was my seat!” Nick yelled at the youngest triplet, who had the biggest smirk on his face.

“I don’t see your name on it.” Chris retorted, stuffing a handful of Nicks popcorn into his mouth. 

That set Nick off.

Nick and Chris were now girl fighting; smacking the others faces and pulling each others hair, while, as usual, being extremely loud. 

“I cant fucking do this anymore” I numbed under my breath, tears threatening to leaf all due to my horrible headache. I divided it was best to call it a night and head up to my room. 

Matt’s POV

I was sitting on the corner sot on our couch, waiting for Y/N to come and join us so I could press play on the movie. But then all hell broke loose over a spot on the couch and now Nick and Chris were having at it. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Y/N walking to the stairs, looking like shes about to cry. 

A pang of guilt hits me like a train. 

I know shes had a very stressful week at work, and my brothers and I were not helping. 

“HEY! Would you two shut the fuck up!”

My two brothers stop dead in their tracks and look at me, shocked that I raised my voice so loud. Chris opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off. 

“Did you two not see how upset and stressed Y/N was?!? Did you even notice she left because of you?”

Chris closed his mouth and gave a guilty look. Nick looked at the ground to avoid my stare. 

“You two better fix your fucking act by the time I get back. I’m going to check on        Y/N.” I announce, leaving them where they stand. 

I head to the kitchen, grab the bottle of Tylenol and bottle of water, and then make my way up stairs. 

Y/N’s POV

I soon as I turned my lights on and shut the door behind me, Immediately burst into tears. I walk across the room and collapsed on my bead, sobbing into my pillow. 

After about 5 minuets, my breathing slowed down and the tears turned into rain rarer than a river. As soon as I sit up I hear a soft knock on my door. 

“Come I-In” I say, mentally cursing that the crack in my voice. The door is softly pushed open, revealing Matt, holding a bottle of Tylenol and some water.

“Hey baby,” he says, walking over and putting the medicine and water on my nightstand. He sits down next to me and runs a slow hand through my hair.

I hum and lean into him, the motion soothing my headache. He lets out a light chuckle and pulls me closer to him. 

He gently lies back on the bed with me lying on top of him, my face in the crook of his neck.

“Why don’t you get some sleep baby, you look exhausted.” He murmurs softly in my ear while he plants a soft kiss to the top of my head. My eyes were already half way closed.

“Don’t leave me. I want you.” I mumbled, afraid he might leave in the middle of the night.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not going anywhere” 

[landoom]

F1 FANFICS REC LIST - Magical Realism

you don't have to know that it's haunted (8373 words) by mintchocolatechip97 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen Summary: At twenty-six, Charles is a witch, and a son, and a racecar driver. He’s learnt what magic can’t save him from, and when it soothes. He likes to think he has it all under control. But the most dangerous thing a witch can do is want. And Charles’s longings outnumber the fish of the Mediterranean Sea. Charles is a witch. Max finds out.

oOoOoOo

wilde (12801 words) by debrief Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “I’m not sure how aware you are, but people online have started speculating about Oscar since last weekend,” Linda’s static voice comes through. Lando swivels around on his heel. “About Oscar being a merman? What? How—” “No,” Linda says, measured. “They’re speculating that he’s your wag.” A pause. “What’s a wag?” Oscar asks.

oOoOoOo

he may be your dog but he's wearing my collar (3611 words) by glasscushion Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “I'll be two minutes, and then we can try and get that stupid collar off you.” Lando’s bottom lip drops and his face glazes over. “Huh?” His tongue slips out, fat and wet, and traces the edge of his front teeth. “The trophy. That's what it looks like, isn't it? A collar.” Oscar mimes hooking a finger inside a shirt collar and gags. “All tight like that, on your throat.” "Ha." It's not a laugh, just an open-mouthed noise. “Yeah. Suppose so.”

oOoOoOo

roll two ones on the dice (4190 words) by anderstorpgrandprix Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “There we go,” Oscar mumbles, and the belt unravels from Lando’s wrist. Lando rubs his skin, looks at the faint red mark around it. Oscar starts to work on the knot around the bedpost and asks, “Do I wanna know why you’re tied up?” “So I wouldn’t go anywhere. Sleepwalk or teleport or whatever.” “Right,” Oscar huffs. “And now I’m here instead.”

oOoOoOo

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) (3494 words) by ipleadbritney Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: A soul bond is like any other type of magic; you can buy it in a bottle. Or, to be more precise, you can manufacture it. Oscar and Lando are accused of having an illegal soul bond.

oOoOoOo

from the ashes (phoenix rising) (8996 words) by 14CookiesGone Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: Oscar’s gotten used to the dull ache between his shoulder blades. His wings, which were not yet fully feathered when he stepped into his role as test and reserve driver at Alpine, have always carried an additional weight than they probably should. They’re also dull - a murky yellow and burnt orange combination that makes him look like the back end of forgotten autumn. A forgotten talent, perhaps. OR Oscar's wings begin to change during the 2023 season, and he does his best to figure out why.

oOoOoOo

Needs Improvement (7104 words) by peachbellini Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: Will you shut up? Oscar thinks, trying to remember where his bite point is, Lando’s voice ringing in his ears. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, be rude to him on the radio for the world to hear, but this is just silly. Distracting. I can’t drive with you shouting like that. You’re not going to disappoint anyone. The lights start to count up Wait Lando sounds confused. How can you hear what I’m thinking?

oOoOoOo

sju sorters blommor (5940 words) by anderstorpgrandprix Rating: Mature Relationships: Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri Summary: “You should’ve heard Kim’s scream,” Oscar continues. He gestures down at his sneakers, then, at the purple stains covering almost the entire left shoe. “And I spilled smoothie all over myself.” “M’sorry,” Lando says. He doesn’t mean to, really, but it rushes out of him. He’s embarrassed, and tired, and sick of it, so his normally subpar brain-to-mouth filter is down for the count. Oscar huffs. “Why are you sorry? It’s not like you—oh. Oh no. Oh no.” Lando feels himself flush. He’s warm all over, skin prickling, and it doesn’t help that Oscar is suddenly bending over in laughter, slapping his thigh like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. “It’s not funny.” Oscar keeps laughing, hands on his knees to support the way his body convulses. It's a bit over the top, Lando thinks. “You caused an earthquake!”

oOoOoOo

fluorescent (kid, adult and everything in between) (10515 words) by AnItalianFrie Rating: Not Rated Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell Summary: When George is five, he falls while playing in the garden of his house. His mum finds him there, crying on the ground and hugging his scrapped left knee, his face red, ugly snot dripping down his nose, and his skin glowing. or George is in love with Alex. He also glows. He tries to cope with both.

MASTERPOST

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 00:33 ⏤FOR NOW

SUM. : when you confess your feelings, remus has to reject you but there's a look in his eyes that makes you doubt his true feelings. when you suspect and unravel his secret, you settle for having just a small piece of him than all of him.

G. : remus lupin as spiderman ; reader as mary jane ; spiderman au ; modern au ; muggle au ; angst ; fluff ; rescuing reader twice ; attempted sexual assault ; nothing explicit ; iconic kiss

LENGTH : 2.1k

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Remus finally meets your eyes with a shaky exhale. You can see that he wants to say more but when he opens his mouth…nothing. 

For a moment, you look away and regain your composure, biting your lip absentmindedly as you do so. When you finally meet his soft brown eyes again and recognise a pain parallel to yours swimming in them,  the ache in your chest is, somewhat, soothed and the tightness in your throat gradually subsides. You anticipated this response from him beforehand but there’s always going to be that glimmer of lingering hope that still makes you feel the hurt, no matter how small.

Nodding, you force a small, timid smile, “It’s alright,” you step back and he steps forward, making you smile more easily to yourself; he still cares for your feelings despite himself. He’s so unbelievably kind. That’s the reason why you fell for him so hard. And why, maybe, it was for the best that you do let him go because he deserves someone better, someone who can be more than just a pretty face to stand beside him. Although, you’re sure that he would vehemently protest your self-deprecation if he ever heard you say it out loud, like he always does, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward for us but,” the next sentiment makes your stomach fall from the thought of it’s potential permanence, “I really value your friendship so I hope we can still be friends,” 

He nods. And you nod. Then walk away. 

Remus could only watch in his own heartbreak and anguish as you do so, your retreating back small and hunched over - not your usual self. People argue how you can so easily put up a front around others, unreadable and unapproachable despite your warm smile and sweet eyes, but Remus can read you so easily. It only takes a simple shift in your silhouette to express how sorrowful you were in that moment and Remus loathes himself for being the person to make you feel that way. 

But it’s for the best…

It happened when you were walking home, heartbreak still fresh and making a detour for a scoop of ice cream. You were just about to make a start on the waffle cone when the structure of the building beside you exploded, sending bricks and debris shooting out to passersby while you crash into the ground. Your ice cream cone is gone and your legs take the brunt of the damage. 

You stare down at the mess of broken bricks littering your legs and wince when you go to remove them, recognising the early signs of bruising on your exposed skin. The city was riddled with criminals that often go off the rails with their schemes. It’s like they’re all wanting to be recognised for a specific crime and the only way to do that was by being unique. Unfortunately for this criminal, you thought spitefully, making a building explode isn’t very noteworthy. Distracted with removing the detritus, you didn’t notice an approaching, imposing figure until their emerging shadow was cast over your, now, free legs. 

Frozen in place, you stare up at the smirking villain towering over you, mind racing with the scream to run away. But you couldn’t move, the fear paralyses your limbs and jumbles your thoughts, you can’t think straight. Before the villain could utter a word, however, there was a flash of red and blue that pulled you into a pair of arms as they quickly made work on temporarily curbing the criminal.

“I’ll be taking this hostage for myself, thank you,” the hero announced cheekily, “hold on tight,” he warns hurriedly before shooting into the air with you in his arms. Naturally, you’re screaming your head off and quickly move to push your face under his chin and your arms around his neck, “Lets get you somewhere saf-Ah!” he shouts painfully, losing concentration for a moment and sending the two of you to free-falling. A shrill scream rips from your throat and your eyes lock shut. Thankfully, he’s quick to pick you and himself back up and finally lands in a nearby park to set you down. 

“Oh my fu-” you couldn’t finish your curse as your lungs begged for air. 

“Looks like you can still stand, good! Get home safely, okay?” Spiderman waves a brief goodbye before moving to get back to dealing with the criminal. 

Panicking, you shout, “Wait!” he turns to you and you’re immediately flustered from the attention, “um…” the rapid movement of your eyes catch sight of his injury as you try to formulate your next sentence but are distracted by the treacle of blood leaving the wound on his upper arm, “oh no, you’re hurt,” guilt weighs down your heart as you observe his injury. That must be why he shouted in pain earlier, did he get shot at? It looks painful. 

“No worries, all in a day’s work but I should really get back to the guy, see ya’!” He was already up in the air when he finishes talking and you rush forward to shout your thanks. Hopefully he heard you.  

You make an interesting observation the next day. 

Yesterday night, you also couldn’t stop thinking about how familiar sounding Spiderman was, especially when, at one point, he was speaking right to you. 

Today, you connect the dots. 

Across the classroom, Remus sits in his uniform with gauze wrapping around his upper arm and peaking out from under his short sleeve. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, ironic especially after the events of yesterday, which a fair number of people have spoken to and pestered you about since video of you being in Spiderman’s arms was all over the news yesterday night. 

The constant badgering and prying of others was annoying but you could use it to your advantage. Angling yourself so that Remus was in your sight, you entertain the questions on your interaction with Spiderman as you subtly observe Remus’s reactions. 

If the main reason why he rejected you was because of his secret identity, you’ll understand but the fact will only make you love him even more, which can be troublesome. If he’s not, then…no- you were confident in your theory. 

“Come on! Stop being stingy with the details and tell us everything!” a blonde girl asks, her eagerness translating in her elevated volume. The others around her nodded and you sighed, acting shy and daydreamy. It wasn’t that much of an act, you still liked Remus very much and imagining him being the one that saved you made you swoon so much. 

“He was really sweet and made sure I was safe and away from the criminal before he went back to finish the job…” you confess, “he also had a really nice voice, it was soothing and really kind,” around you the girls swooned and you observed the pink hue tinting the tip of Remus’s ears. Interesting… 

“What else? What else?”

You allow some of your bashfulness to show, really selling the act even though all these feelings were genuine when you imagined Remus under the mask, “He also had really good muscles under his suit so it felt nice being in his arms,” this made the girls squeal loudly, made you giggle and made Remus run a veiny hand through his hair, biting back a clear smile as his cheeks blossomed an endearing shade of pink. You didn’t fail to notice how the movement of his arm exposed more of his neatly wrapped upper arm and smirked to yourself. 

So it is him, Remus is Spiderman. 

The revelation is bittersweet. Now you know why he rejected you despite the two of you clearly sharing a connection. It also explained the pained look in his eyes when he had to turn you away, maybe the feelings were reciprocated? 

However, he still isn’t yours and you don’t think he ever will be. 

Remus is as stubborn as they get but it all comes from a good place. He wants to protect his loved ones and do what’s best for them no matter the sacrifice. Unfortunately, that sacrifice is affecting the two of you and no matter how much you want to confront and reassure him, you know that the answer will remain the same. 

So, with a fond but bitter smile, you resolve to respect his decision and not initiate anything. 

If only you could reveal your confirmed suspicions to him, not for the selfish reason to have him for yourself but for consolidation. The rejection and distance hurt you but he was hurting too and you wouldn’t want to add any more to his suffering.

You realise too late that you should have taken your friends up on their offer of a taxi. It was late and the shortcut you confidently used to take looked far more dangerous under the moon than it did in the daylight. A curse pushes past your tinted lips and into the chilly night air before you pick up the pace but are stopped when your path is blocked by two tall men who manifested from the shadows of the alley. 

“Look here,” one chuckles, his words stinking of cigarettes and something nasty you can’t pinpoint, “what a beauty,” 

Despite the compliment, your expression becomes cold and hard like steel, “Get out of my way,”

“Oh! Feisty!” the other man laughs, reaching out to touch you but you slap his hand away, adding to his statement and shuddering when you see him lick his lips, “I like that in a woman…”

They weren’t going to let up until they had their way and you knew that so you ran. You couldn’t beat them with speed but tried to take as many twists to throw them off as much as you could. In the chase, you let out the occasional scream for help, wanting to alert others but not wanting to prolong a shout when you needed your breath to keep up your speed and endurance. You pray to god that someone calls the police as you turn the corner and feel your stomach drop to your feet. 

A dead end. 

“Looks like the little miss has ran out of luck,” the man with cigarettes on his breath utters, his amusement laced with anger at the wild chase you put up. His partner, however was more sickeningly satisfied by the pursue. 

“It makes the prize all the more worth it though,” he pants loudly, “give it up doll,” he slowly approaches as you back up into the brick wall blockading your escape. Tears surface and blur your vision as you shake your head vehemently, the bricks pressing into your back becoming a nauseous reminder of your harrowing circumstance. This can’t be happening…if only you had taken that stupid taxi! 

“I don’t think so,” came a typical line, cheesy but something you were incredibly grateful for because it meant one thing. Remus was here for you. 

“Shit!” the two men scatter but easily get apprehended and subdued by the hero, who immobilises them with his webbing and pins them to the brick wall that once was a symbol of your inescapable fate. The two men were black and blue with bruises, unconscious and looking like pinned up insects. Scum of the earth. They deserve to rot in hell and to be treated hatefully. 

Then suddenly, his voice calls out to you, warming your figure and making your knees weak, “Can I take the pretty lady home?” your heart stutters in your chest, the flattering remark meaning more to you knowing who it was really coming from. 

“Before that, can I please thank my hero for saving me twice, now?” you suggest with hopeful and suggestive eyes, slowly approach him as his lowers himself, hanging upside down with a string of strong webbing. If you can’t have him as Remus, you can have a small piece of him as Spiderman. 

He doesn’t say anything as you gesture to his mask and take his silence as approval to continue with your actions. Carefully, you pull his mask down past his lips and smile to yourself. You recognise his angular jaw and pretty lips anywhere. It’s really him, he’s Remus. You’re clear about your intentions and the fact that he isn’t pulling away must mean that he wants you too, that makes your heart race faster. Now with full confidence, you tenderly hold the sides of his face and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. You don’t know how long the two of you stay there, lip-locked, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss onto one another’s lips, neither one feeling satisfied even when the kiss escalates into a clashing but harmonious tango of tongues, moans getting swallowed up by one another. You never want to let go and Remus wants to savour the moment and your taste for as long as it takes. 

This will stop some of the ache in your heart for now. 

A/N : this is all because i've fallen in love with andrew garfield as remus lupin. also, this is the first time im including my taglist! ahhhh! i'm so happy!

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins ; @astonishment ; @until-i-found-you ; @goodoldfashionedluvergirl ; @tiensmamains

NAVI.

[yeowangies]

The end of the world

PAIRING: Suguru Geto/AFAB!Reader. CONTENTS: Explicit Sexual Content (Fingering), Sensory Deprivation (Blindfold, Bondage), Slight Dubcon WORDCOUNT: 2011

Summary:

The day was sunny, no clouds in the sky, warm, almost hot. Eerily dreamy for a late spring day. There were still some flowers in some of the plants in your front yard. A heavy contrast with the man in dark clothes, long dark hair, and even darker eyes, waiting outside your door.

Notes:

KINKTOBER DAY 15: SENSORY DEPRIVATION

There's just weird stuff going on here that i can't explain. I love being ambiguous about plots and stuff LMAO but Suguru fits all these things, and the plot is supposed to not make sense. So yeah, heads up. I was also a inspired by the story "where are you going, where have you been?". I would have loved to keep writing but I was already at my limit!

Not proofread cause i finished this last night.

@actuallysaiyan

divider by @/adornedwithlight

Looking out the window with trepidation, you breathed heavily at the sight of the person outside your door. 

The day was sunny, no clouds in the sky, warm, almost hot. Eerily dreamy for a late spring day. There were still some flowers in some of the plants in your front yard. A heavy contrast with the man in dark clothes, long dark hair, and even darker eyes, waiting outside your door. 

He stood on the porch, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. With a smile that sent chills down your spine. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man said with a calm voice. “My intention is only to check on you. The world is an insane place right now, it’s dangerous for a young woman to be all alone in a house, don’t you agree?”

“Leave me alone.” You demanded, the tone in your voice giving away your trepidation. “I’m perfectly fine, you can see me from there. Just leave.”

“I promise to let you be, once I see for myself that you’re safe, how does that sound?”

You shut your eyes closed, cold sweat running down your back. He was lying, you knew he was, even through his polite demeanor. Every word that came out of his mouth, no matter how well mannered they were, was dripping with disdain, you could feel it in your bones.

“No.” You asserted, opening your eyes again to focus on him through the blinds. “I’m fine right here. I shouldn’t open the door, no matter how considerate you are.”

Jumping back with a gasp, you were startled when he fully turned to you, taking a few steps closer towards your window. His eyes seemed to be looking through you, past your body and into your soul; it was unnerving, it made the alarm in your head go off.

“You’re a beautiful woman, did you know?”

You breathed in deeply, but didn’t reply, too nervous to say something out of place. His tone was slightly softer, not as tense as before.

“You don’t get compliments often?” He asked, seemingly offended. “What a shame, a pretty girl like you should be showered in them every single day.”

Your face heated up, despite the situation. There you were, in the middle of what could only be described as the end of the world, and this handsome man who had an eerie aura around him was giving you compliments and making you blush, as if you were a high school girl. You just hoped it wasn’t obvious through the glass of the window.

“Honey, open the door.” He demanded again. 

“No…” You replied, loud enough for him to hear, but not so sure of yourself at all.

“Have you seen the news? Heard the radio, maybe? You know, the radio is an old piece of communication, but it comes in handy in situations like these, it doesn’t even need electricity. How else would we know about the state of the world, right?”

“I don’t know where you’re getting at…”

“We should look after each other, more than ever now.” His soothing voice was like honey; even when he was obviously using a fake concerned tone before (was it fake concerned, though?). “You have to open the door for me.”

“Leave me alone!” You raised your voice, shivering. 

It was scaring you how convincing he was. You shouldn’t let anyone inside. It was an obvious statement; no matter what anyone said, it wasn’t safe. You had heard many stories through the radio about what had happened to the poor people that had tried to be nice and caring so they opened the door.

You mustn’t. You had to keep yourself alive.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” 

His tone shifted again, making your stomach sink. It was only a small change, deeper voice, slightly more demanding. Still surprisingly soothing and soft. 

How did he do that?

“You have to be brave during these times. I only want to help.”

You inhaled and exhaled several times, not as slowly and consciously to actually calm yourself down, but out of anxiety. 

“Isn’t being alone scary? Isn’t that why you are so nervous?”

You took a few steps back, away from the window. 

His words were slowly sinking. It was scary to be alone. But what else were you going to do? Nobody even knew exactly what was happening outside, only that it was a risk to let someone inside when you didn’t know where they had been. If you didn’t know if they were safe. 

Maybe you were being too paranoid. Ever since the current situation began, you couldn’t even believe anything was real. Was he actually being disdainful, like you initially thought? He sounded like it, but maybe it was just in your head. Alienation was the cause and consequence of what was happening. 

Maybe you had been listening to way too many gruesome stories. 

“Please, miss, I only wish to see that you are safe.”

His eyes shined through the blinds. Gazing at you through hooded lids. 

There was some ting of pain in your chest; guilt, fear, neediness. If he was actually a bad person, you had no way of knowing. You hated having to leave him outside if he was actually concerned for you. 

You craved some kind of comfort.

He had been nice. He had repeatedly told you about how worried he was for your safety. That couldn’t have been fake, could it? It must have been in your head, the shifts in his tone that you sensed. He had to be a good person, right?

Keeping your eyes on his as you approached the door until you no longer could see him, you carefully unlocked it. Pulling it open, you are face to face with this handsome man, whose name you still didn’t know. Tall, imposing, looking down at you with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“There we go,” He showed you a wide smile as he took a step into your house. “Was that so hard?”

Only then you notice that you’re trembling, and you can’t actually muster the courage to answer. 

Was he naturally that imposing?

When he took another step closer, he was only a few inches away from you. You strained your neck to look up at him, swallowing loudly the longer he looked at you. 

You jolted in surprise when he gently grabbed your hand, chuckling when he brought it closer to his lips. 

“Still scared of me?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, keeping his gaze on you. “There’s nothing to fear. My name is Suguru Geto, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cold sweat ran down your back. You couldn’t stop your body from trembling, unresponsive to the commands your brain was trying to give. 

It was in a single moment, when his hand hovered over your eyes and your world turned black, that you knew you had made a mistake. 

Suguru Geto probably wasn't even human. That’s the conclusion you got to. 

Your senses were off. You couldn’t see anything, a mask rendering your vision useless. You knew you were in a bed (you assumed it was yours), hands tied to what you guessed was the headboard. The skin of your body felt strange, tingly. Similar to the feeling you got when you were sitting in a fixed position for more than an hour. Even your sense of smell felt off, like it wasn’t even there. 

He wasn’t human. You were sure of it. 

“I know you’re awake.” His low voice resonated in the room. Suguru sounded so far away. “I tried to make you the most comfortable. I know you’re probably not feeling so good right now, but don’t worry, you’ll feel better in a second.”

When you felt something that must have been his hand graze the skin of your hip, you gasped, only then realizing you were naked. Your skin was numb when he touched it, throwing you off completely. 

“You were so nice for letting me in, darling.” His voice was dripping with lust; even through your current state, you could feel it, making your heart race. “I should reward you for it, don’t you think?”

Both of his hands slid up your sides, stroking and caressing so gently. You try to command your limbs to move, to try and resist, because this wasn’t what you wanted. Or at least, not like this. 

Suguru Geto was attractive, and he had awakened something when you saw him through the window. But this wasn’t even something you considered when you opened the door. 

You made a strangled noise when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing and kneading them together. When he ran his thumbs over your nipples, you gasped, arching your back. Heat bloomed in your lower abdomen when he kept playing with your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples. 

“You’re sensitive, aren’t you?” Suguru chuckled.

His breath washed over your neck, only then realizing how close he was.

One of his hands trailed down your abdomen, finding your entrance between your legs. You would have been ashamed that he noticed how wet you were, but it felt strange to feel his hot, calloused fingers on your most sensitive parts. 

Your body was ablaze in a split second, even when Suguru was touching you without urgency, taking his time exploring your pussy with the tip of his fingers. Slick dripped from your entrance onto his fingers and down your thighs. You could barely utter a single word (probably due to what he had done to you to render your senses useless), reduced to moans and whimpers. 

His lips were pressed against your neck, barely kissing your skin, as he slowly pushed two digits into your pussy, using pressure against your clit with his thumb. 

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy this so much, but I’m glad I can please you.” Suguru purred against your ear. A choked moan left your lips, making him chuckle. “Still can’t talk? Don’t worry, honey, I know what you need.”

His fingers reached so incredibly deep, stroking your most sensitive spots. Your thighs trembled with every flick of his thumb on your clit, steadily increasing that warm knot in your abdomen. Getting you closer and closer to the edge by the second. 

There was something in his touch that simply ignited a fire in you. If you thought before that Suguru wasn’t human, you were sure of it then, but you couldn’t focus on the idea much, not when he started pumping his fingers into your pussy. 

Your hips jerked against his hands in aborted moves, probably due to whatever effect you were under. Your body still tried to seek more of him, looking for that wonderful release that awaited you once the knot in your abdomen unraveled. His lips planted kisses on your shoulder, occasionally whispering praises against your skin. 

You were too far gone to actually pay attention to what he said. When his thumb kept caressing your clit, with an obvious intent of making you come, you couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your lips. 

It was too much all at once, and you were confused, lost, but most importantly, turned on. Suguru was having some out of worldly effect on you, fingers curling so deep inside you, you saw stars through the darkness, every time he grazed a spongy spot inside you. 

With a particular loud moan, you came, reaching your orgasm as your toes curled, back arching into his touch. Your mind turned blank, skin still tingly and numb even as you reached your peak. He kept sliding his digits in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it until you could no longer take it, letting out a strangled sob. 

“You did so well, my pretty girl.” Suguru reassured you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. As you tried to catch your breath, still feeling the afterglow of an unexpected orgasm, he kept talking, kissing your cheek. “Will you do something for me now?”

[rinzsu]

✩ ‧ ₊˚ IN MEMORIES I HOLD YOU DEAR — GOJO SATORU

four letters you addressed to him slight angst, wc 800+, reader and satoru have feelings for each other but aren’t in a committed relationship, takes place right after the shibuja arc

november 9th, 2018

satoru.

hair white like the first snow, the color of whipped cream, the pots of the plants on my window sills, and the foam atop the oceans waves.

you’ll forever feel like summer to me, like the first of july, when i drowned in your blue eyes and never came back up.

i wish i could kiss you now like i never had before, catch you when you’re falling, and hold you close instead of pushing you away in hopes of forgetting how my heart beats for you and you alone.

it’s ironic, really, how you come back now after all those days and sleepless nights of trying to convince myself that things are better this way, even though you’re so far gone.

i try so hard to forget about you, about us, only for you to barge right back in and for everything to begin anew.

you once said that you hate it when things come to an end, and i still recall how you always used to leave a single chug of sake in your cup instead of finishing it all together.

and how you used to add an “i still have to finish my cup” as an excuse to stay out longer when nanami wanted to leave the bar.

november 16th, 2018

i miss you. it’s been roughly three weeks since you’ve been sealed away, but to me, it feels like three eternities.

winter is creeping up on us, the air is much colder and the sky always grey.

i’m still taking those hot showers in the evening. you used to say that the water feels like warm hugs after an exhausting day, but nowadays i crave your comforting embrace above all.

the academy's halls feel so much emptier with you gone. i used to mock your silly laugh but now i miss it more with every second i spend in this god forsaken place.

it's quiet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, i wish it was more noisy, because that would mean that you are here.

yuji tries keeping his voice low when he talks about you, but it doesn't matter if it's the students, shoko or my treacherous mind that's uttering your name like a useless mantra.

there's so much i couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't utter out loud, so i'm writing this.

isn't it funny? how i tried to rid you out of my life and now there's a piece of you in every word that i fill these pages with, a fragment of you hidden in each of these lines.

november 24th, 2018

i've been watching our series for the third time now and somehow i feel guilty watching it without you, even though i used to do it all the time when you were still here.

knowing what's about to come soothes my mind even for a little bit. so does going to the drive through and eating chicken nuggets in the parking lot while singing along to all of our songs. i swear by now i can hit higher notes than you ever will.

everyone has their own way of escaping this reality. it helps, makes it hurt less, but just like salve to an open wound, the tranquilizing of this pain will only be temporary until all our sorrows will bleed together again.

is this love?

i see you when it's dark, the illusion of you under one of those flickering street lights. once i turn to look for you, i'm left with your blurring face and the burden of your absence weighing down upon me.

i don't know where life is leading me right now, but there's something that's always pulling me back to you.

december 5th, 2018

you're no longer here.

i've met someone, but he doesn't laugh like you do, doesn't talk to me like you do. it's been less than two weeks but i can already tell that his skin isn't as soft as yours either.

he holds my hand but he doesn't hold it as tight as you do, doesn't intertwine our fingers the way you always did.

when he leaves, he won't make it as difficult for me to say goodbye as you did. and for the first time, i've noticed how different people's presences feel.

how different people breathe, when he rests next to me in shokos office after a mission and i can't feel his rhythm the way i did yours.

was this between us special?

i once heard that after a split up, people tend to romanticize everything bad and to forget why they detached in the first place.

even so, we never dated in the first place and neither did we break up, you just left.

and even though i know that, it's hard for me to believe that i'll ever find someone like you again.

©️ rinsque— do not plagiarise nor repost any of my works on any other platform.

note. hope you enjoyed this <3 i had repost this for the nth time because it didn’t show in the tags i used