#I connect a lot with this song... it feels fitting to give it to him

[holdmytesseract]

love isn't random, we are chosen

Daryl Dixon x nun!Reader

Summary: When Daryl Dixon enters your life, you experience a feeling you hadn't felt since dedicating your life to God: love. Unfortunately, it is not everybody at the Nest happy with your connection to the American - and suddenly your love is turned into a weapon...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, possible spin-off spoilers, violence, injuries, mentions of torture, blood, swear words, talks about God, faith, the oath, etc, fluff, small steamy moment(s)? lots of dialogue?

Set in Season 2 of the spin-off!

Word Count: 6,8k

a/n: I love spin-off Daryl with all my heart. There are way too less fics out there for him, so I have to change that. A huge thanks and shout-out goes to @fictive-sl0th ! She's my French translator. Without her, this fic would be so much more difficult to write. Thank you so much, my lovely friend.

Also, I wanna add that I'm no nun, so I don't have real knowledge about this. Please go easy on me. I wrote what felt, uh, right. ☺️

Disclaimer: There are two sentences that Daryl says, which aren't mine. It's just there to fit the plot.

The title is a line from this song - which inspired me a lot...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

But then Isabelle brought this hurt man, and suddenly throwing over your whole life. One moment, everything was normal, and the next you stood in the blood of your fellow nuns. He had thrown everything off balance... Your life, your faith, your worldview - and your feelings as well.

You didn't hear a single word Losang said. After the first sentence, you found yourself spacing out. And quite frankly, you didn't care - as hard as it sounded. Your mind was way too occupied with other things. Well... One thing. No, not a thing, to be precise... One man. Daryl Dixon - a brave, strong lone wolf who had so suddenly crashed into your life. Into all of your lives.

Life at the abbey had been almost picture perfect. The safety it had provided. Fields with crops and vegetables to eat. Occasionally, some of the dead ones found their way to your doors, yes, but beside that it was peaceful. Quiet. With the hope living through Laurent.

Infatuation... Something you had lastly felt in your teenage years before you had decided to dedicate your life to God and the church - and yet you instantly recognized the feeling. The butterflies in your stomach. The way your heart sped up whenever you had looked at the man. It was unmistakable. You knew you shouldn't. You knew it was most likely foolish to fall for a stranger you had known for only a few weeks or months, but you also knew that you were powerless. You couldn't control your heart. You couldn't control if and with whom it fell in love. Love is something that just happens.

You sighed. It was too late now anyways. Daryl was gone; on his way back home to America. You were never going to see him again - and the realization of that made your heart ache.

The loud, heart shattering gasp of Sylvie sitting beside you was the thing that brought your mind back from wandering off. Your head instantly turned to look at her; finding an overwhelming sadness and worry displayed on her face. "Quoi? C'est quoi? Que s'est-il passé? (What? What is it? What happened?)" You asked; instinctively reaching for the younger woman's hands. Isabelle had her hand on Sylvie's shoulder; giving you a questioning look. "Emile..." Sylvie started, her voice quivering. "Ils l'ont eu... (They got Emile...)"

"Patience won't work. If Genet can't get anythin' from them, she'll just kill 'em."

Your heart clenched for the young woman. You knew that she loved Emile. In fact, it was the first time she experienced love. To see her like this broke your heart, 'cause you knew how it felt. You felt the same.

Words of comfort were already on the tip of your tongue, but before you were able to speak them, another voice cut through the air.

You knew that voice. In a crowd of hundreds of people, you'd recognize that voice. His voice. Quickly turning in your chair, your gaze fell on the door. On him - and your heart almost stopped; eyes widening. "Daryl..." You panted; breath catching in your throat. He was back. He did not leave. He was here.

Before you were able to react and stop it, your feelings had taken over the control of your body. You couldn't think clearly anymore. All you saw was him. "Daryl!" You called out again - this time a little louder, as you sprung up to your feet; legs working on their own will to carry you over to the man at a fast pace. "Daryl..." You repeated his name again and threw your hands around his neck to hug the archer. The man grunted in return; didn't see this coming. He was hesitant at first, but then he hugged you back.

Gasps erupted throughout the crowd; followed by whispers and shocked faces. What were you doing? What had gotten into you?

The huge crowded room had become quiet around you. Everybody was watching the scenes unfold in front of their eyes, until-

You pulled back from the hug; the rational part of your brain still out like a light. Without thinking, you pressed your lips on his; kissing the man.

Daryl had gone rigid beneath your touch as well; all his muscles tensing at the sudden contact. He hadn't seen that coming either. Not even in the slightest. He was way too caught off-guard to respond to the kiss in any way, so he just stood there. But when you pulled back - your soft, warm lips leaving his, he found himself missing your touch; wanting to feel your kiss again.

And suddenly everything crashed down on you. Your breath got labored; chest constricting. You needed to get out of here. So, you did. Brushing past a still overwhelmed Daryl, you stormed out of the room and kept running. Running until you stood behind the wall of the highest tower in the nest, gazing down at the beauty that was the Mont-Saint-Michel – your new home, and all across the French mudflat. It was low tide, but the beauty of the nature around you nevertheless never failed to amaze you. The wind rustled through your hair. You took a deep breath; tasting the saltiness of the water. Tears pricked your eyes.

As soon as the kiss was over and you felt Daryl not reciprocating it, the rose-colored glasses slipping off. Realization dawned on you. And when you spun around to look at your friends and the other people, you found everyone staring at you; shocked, surprised, disappointed. Everyone, except Isabelle and Sylvie, who had a small smile on their faces.

You swallowed hard; eyes flickering over to Losang - your leader. Your mentor. The man had crossed his hands behind his back. A hard look on his face. He wasn't amused - just like the other people.

What have you done?

A moment of silence passed.

You hid away in your room for the rest of the day; not wanting to see anybody. Not even your friends.

With your arms hugging your legs to your chest, you sat on your bed and let your thoughts roam; staring at the window. It was pitch black outside. The night had settled over France a long time ago, but a sudden knock ripped you out of your trance like state. You slowly turned your head towards the door; sighing. "Pars, Isa. Je t'ai déjà dit que je voulais être seul. (Go away, Isa. I told you I want to be alone)."

You knew of course what he wanted to talk about. It was rather obvious. You just kissed him after all merely a few hours hours ago. Nevertheless, you tried to avoid the embarrassing, most likely humiliating conversation.

"Y/N...," a deep, definitely not female voice spoke your name. Your eyes widened. It wasn't Isa - obviously. It was... "'S me. Daryl. Can we talk?" You swallowed hard. "Please," the man added in a quieter voice, which managed to send a shiver down your spine. You inhaled deeply; heart yearning again for the man behind the wooden door.

Slowly, you untangled your own limbs to stood up. "Y/N?" He said again; a soft knock following. Barefoot, you tiptoed across the stony ground to hesitatingly open the door - just enough to peek through the gap. "What do you want?" Daryl's gorgeous blue eyes met yours. "Talk." "About what?"

Daryl just gazed at your face for a long moment; chewing on the inside of his lip, while nervously picking at his fingers. "Let me in, please. Dun wanna discuss tha' out on the floor," he looked around. "With prying eyes." You frowned and swallowed hard once again, "Fine." and gave in; letting him step inside your small but cozy room. Closing the door behind the archer, you crossed your arms over your chest. Daryl looked around; noticing the small collection of books in the corner. The bible on your soft looking blanket. Some of your clothes on the chair beside your bed. The burning candles on your old wooden desk, which created a warm and admittedly romantic atmosphere.

"'S a nice room ya got. Way better than mine," he started; clearly trying to cover up his nervosity and keep his cool. "Thanks," you whispered; suddenly highly aware of the tension in the room. Something Daryl must have felt too.

He did.

The archer swallowed and ducked his head to avoid your eyes for a moment, before starting to speak again. "Earlier today when, uh, when ya... When ya-" You knew what he tried to say. So you were quick to interrupt him; unsure if you would survive his words of rejection now. "It was foolish of me, Daryl. I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened." You shook your head. "I should've controlled myself better... Should've not let my feelings get the better of me. I wasn't supposed to give in. To let my heart speak. I'm sorry," you rambled; quite a bit unaware that you just declared your love to him.

The man standing across you blinked. His expression was unreadable - for you. He had learned to mask his emotions well. But internally he was on the verge of falling to his knees. "F-Feelings fer me?" He croaked out; not quite trusting his ears. Could this be true? Could you - someone so pure, delicate and angelic love a broken and tainted mess like he was? It was difficult to grasp.

Daryl was positively rendered speechless. His brain needed several seconds to catch up with your words.

Your heart almost jumped off the cliff as he repeated your words. Your eyes widened at the realization; cheeks turning crimson red.

"Y-Yes?" You didn't mean to make it sound like a question, but well... "W-Why, uh, why would I break the oath and a-all the promises I made and kiss you without love? J-Just because I could? Because it's easy?" "Nah, 'course, I... Fuck, I didn't mean it like tha'. I jus'... It's hard to believe that you... love me." You frowned. "Is it? Why? Just because you're different? Because you were made for this world? Broken until it ended? Because you don't see yourself the way I see you?" Once more you shook your head. "I am not supposed to love you and yet I can't help but believe that there is a reason God led me down this path. Granted me to experience those feelings. I felt it from the first time I laid my eyes upon you. There was a spark. Something... magical. There's gotta be a reason he led you to me." You locked your eyes with his. "Perhaps this was always meant to be."

"Wha'?" He asked; almost breathless. "Yer really wanna put me above yer faith? Above God?"

You shook your head, "Not above my faith." and smiled softly. "Above the promise I made. Above my oath."

"I always thought fallin' in love was impossible for me. I didn't believe in love - 'n then I got stranded 'ere so far from home, findin' ya..." You smiled and cupped his cheeks to gently guide his head; making his forehead rest against your forehead. "I told you, there's a reason you survived and washed up at that shore. Love isn't random, Daryl. God chose us to be connected by love," you whispered; hands dropping to his broad shoulders, gliding down his chest and ultimately landing on his belly to wrap around those suspenders he wore - which made him even more attractive.

Daryl exhaled a shaky breath; heart starting to beat faster. You meant it. You truly put him - your love for him - above the promise you made.

This time he was the one who lost control and acted on his feelings. With two big strides Daryl had bridged the distance between the both of you. Before you could react or even say another word, he had you already pushed backwards with your back pressed against the wooden door; successfully caging you between his broad frame and the door. One arm was pressed against the wooden surface a few inches beside your hand, while the archer's free hand cupped your waist; securing you in place. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was so close. You could feel his irregular breath on your skin and the warmth radiating off his body.

Panic flooded your system - something Daryl instantly detected. He saw it in your eyes. "Wha'? Wha' did he say?" He whispered as quiet as somehow possible. "He wants to talk. Now." You frantically looked around, while Daryl muttered an almost inaudible 'Fuck'. "Oui. Donne-moi juste un moment pour m'habiller. (Yes. Just give me a moment to get decent.)." "Bien sûr, sœur Y/N. (Of course, sister Y/N)." You tapped Daryl on the chest to make him walk. "Into the closet, quick. You have to hide." He nodded wordlessly and somehow managed to fit his bulky frame inside the old wooden closet. "Be quiet." "I know. I ain't stupid." You gave him a last look of worry, before you closed the closet, but left the doors ajar. Just enough for him to get air. Then you slipped hastily inside your dressing gown and took a deep breath.

His hand on your waist twitched as Daryl tilted his head. The archer's nose brushed yours before he caught your lips with his in a deep, intimate kiss. Instinctively, your hands tugged at the suspenders to pull him closer - to which his body instantly responded, before your palms went to cup his cheeks again; feeling his beard scratching your skin. You ended the kiss only to get some air back in your lungs. But within seconds was your mouth locked to Daryl's again. Slightly changing the angle, you even deepened the kiss; letting him feel all the love you held within your heart for him.

You would've loved to continue kissing him, feeling him - but a firm knock against the door (to which Daryl still had you pinned) caused the both of you scramble apart. "Y/N? Pardonne-moi de te déranger. Tu es encore réveillée? (Apologies for the disturbance. Are you still awake?)" Your eyes widened at the voice. Losang. You pressed a hand to Daryl's chest; urging him on to take a few steps back with your finger on his lips to signal him to be quiet. "Um, yes, I am still awake. On my way to bed, though." "I see." There was a pause. "Est-ce qu'on peut parler? S'il te plaît? C'est urgent. (Can we talk? Please. It's urgent.)"

"Tu peux entrer. (You may come in.)" The door opened only a few seconds later to reveal the leader of the union de l'espoir. The man held a small smile as he was facing you. "Donc, je m'excuse encore pour le dérangement. (I apologize again for the disturbance.)" You gave him a nod and a polite smile in return. "How can I help you?" You asked then. Losang crossed his hands behind his back. "I wanted to discuss the... incident that happened this morning."

Oh no...

You blushed immediately, "O-Oh, you, uh, you mean my-" and cleared your throat. "My encounter with monsieur Dixon?" He nodded. "Oui. I just wanted to make sure that this truly was just an accident. A misunderstanding. You won't break your oath and question your love for God. Not for a man like Dixon." You swallowed hard; already hating what you were about to do. Lying was a sin - but you had no other choice. Losang left you no other way out. He made that clear. "No, no, of course not. It was an accident. Like you said. I don't know what has gotten into me. So much happened in the past few weeks, I just... lost control for a moment. It won't happen again." The man opposite you nodded; visibly pleased with your answer. "I hope you understand that I can't and won't tolerate a liaison with this man. He's a lost soul, and I'm afraid he can't be saved. He doesn't believe and has no guidance."

The archer reached for your hand to cup your smaller one in his bigger one. "Yeah, I know..." You stepped closer to the man again and placed a hand on his shoulder; toying with the lapels of the black shirt he wore. "We have to be careful. You heard it yourself." Daryl nodded and squeezed your hand. "Had a feelin' tha' he ain't fond 'a me." "I'm afraid we have to keep this a secret. Us. I think there's no other way. Even if we don't like it." He gazed into your eyes and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. "Yeah. Think we do. I ain't losin' ya again jus' 'cause 'a him. So I'd rather keep this a secret." You nodded; caressing his cheek with your thumb. "It's better that way..."

You just nodded; not saying a word. Sometimes it was best to keep quiet.

He gave you yet another smile then. "I knew that I could count on your loyalty and faith, sister Y/N." "Of course, Losang." He nodded, "I leave you to rest then. Good night." and turned to open the door. "Thank you. Good night." As soon as Losang had left your room, a relieved breath left your lips. You waited for another few moments - to make sure he was really gone, before you opened your closet again. "An accident, huh?" Daryl said teasingly as he left his uncomfortable hiding place. You shook your head with a smile. "Hush. You know I had to say it. I didn't mean it."

Daryl couldn't stop himself from dipping his head and catch your lips with his in another tender kiss. "I hope ya know what ya gettin' yerself into... I dun think 'm an easy man to love." A small smile darted over your face. "Yeah? Well, you are aware that you fell in love with a nun, right? I'd say I am the one who is harder to love." The archer scoffed and shook his head. "You dun know 'bout the things I've done." You smiled once more and took a step closer; invading his space even further. "Daryl... I don't care about your past. We all did things to survive. I only care about the here and now - and the future, 'cause... I hope to be your future."

"Laurent is what?!" You literally squeaked out; causing Daryl to grip your wrist and pull you into a small side room. The Mont-Saint-Michel had quite a lot of those... "Gone. Kidnapped. They got 'im, but 'm gonna help gettin' him back. We got a hint where they could hide. 'M leavin' in the next hour. Emile 'n Falou join me." You nodded - relieved that they had instantly worked on a plan to get the kid back, but then you frowned. "Wha'? Wha' is it? Ya worried?" Once again you nodded. "'Bout me?" "A little...," you nervously picked at your nails. "I know that you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself. I am way more worried about Emile..." That got the archer frowning. "Emile? Why him?" You shook your head. "I don't know, he... He's so different after the kidnapping. Sure, I know this was bad and such things do something to you, but..." You took a deep breath. "I got a bad feeling about him. About this. Can't explain it." The archer shook his head and cupped your hips in his big hands. "I got this. Dun worry. But thanks for tellin' me yer concern. Gonna keep it in mind."

Your plan worked perfectly fine. You and Daryl truly managed to keep your romantic liaison a secret. No public affection - something the archer was not very fond of anyway, which played into your hands. Only behind closed (and mostly even locked) doors. Sure, you exchanged subtle looks and small smiles, but nothing beside that. If you had to talk, you talked like acquaintances would do. The only people who knew about you and Daryl were Sylvie and Isabelle. They were your closest friends, after all. You trusted them with your life. Unlike Losang, they didn't have a problem with it. Quite the opposite... They even supported you (and Daryl).

It was almost to good to be true - until it wasn't...

You sighed and slung your arms around his neck to hug him. "You could join me, ya know..." You huffed out a small laugh and shook your head. "No, better not. We both know I'm not a good fighter. I'd only make things more difficult and complicated for you, and I don't want that." Daryl grunted. "Gotta change tha'. 'M gonna teach ya how to fight. Properly. 'S important. Gotta know I can leave my woman alone for a few hours without her getting herself killed." You scoffed but knew that he was actually right. "Yeah, we should do that."

"Je t'aime. (I love you.) I'll be waiting." Daryl smiled. By now he knew the meaning of those words. "I love ya, too." "Stay safe," you whispered and squeezed his hand before you let go of him again. "You, too, ya hear me?" You nodded with a small smile. "I'm safe here."

A few beats of silence passed, in which you just embraced each other; enjoying your partner's proximity.

"Ya gonna be there when we leave?" You took a deep breath at Daryl's question and sighed once more. "No. Better not. I got a feeling that Jacinta will be there, too and... I got a feeling that she's got her eyes on me. I'm afraid she's already a bit suspicious of us..." Daryl nodded. "Damnit, a'right... We gotta be careful then." You retreated from the hug to look deeply into his gorgeous blue eyes and nodded. Then you cupped his cheeks and gently pulled his head down for a kiss - which the archer gladly reciprocated. The kiss was deep, intense and full of love. Who knew when you'd see each other again? How long this rescue mission was going to take...

The moment you heard Daryl's name fall from Losang's lips, sleep was forgotten. This conversation had captured your full attention. Slowly, you sneaked up closer; looking through the gap of the wooden ajar door. Usually, you weren't one to pry at other people, but this... You couldn't let that slip. They were talking about the man you loved, after all.

You walked down the stony hallway on your way to your room when you heard voices coming from what sounded like the meeting hall. You could've sworn it sounded like Losang and Jacinta... But it was already late and all you wanted was to sleep, so you decided to just ignore it. Until you heard a sentence which caught your attention.

"Ça devrait être déjà réglé. (It should be done by now)," said Jacinta. 'Done by now?' You frowned. What should be done by now? Rescuing Laurent? "Bien. Espérons que tout se soit passé comme prévu. Dixon n'est pas idiot. Il est dur à coincer. (Good. Let's hope everything goes according to plan. Dixon isn't stupid. He's hard to get)".

"Ne t'en fais pas. Il ne l'a pas vu venir. Il ferait n'importe quoi pour le gamin. Dixon est futé, mais pas autant que nous. (Don't worry. He won't see this coming. He'd do everything for the boy. Dixon may be smart, but we're smarter.)" Losang smiled and gave his right-hand-woman a nod. "Il est temps de préparer la cérémonie. Dixon est mort, et rien ne viendra entraver la destinée du garçon. (We have to prepare the ceremony. Now that Dixon is dead and out of the way, nothing is going to hinder the boy to fulfill his destiny.)"

Your heart almost stopped at the man's words. It felt like it had just shattered into a million pieces. Dead. That's what he said. A cocktail of emotions flooded your veins. Shock, disbelief, pain... And anger. You felt so angry like you never did before in your life as a nun. They had tricked Daryl, most likely led him into a trap and... and... You weren't able to finish that thought. Your head started to spin, causing you to stumble back a few steps. Unfortunately, your feet hit an old bucket on the floor; left standing there for cleaning. Of course, you knocked it over. Not very quietly. It attracted the 'traitors' attention and let them hurry to the door.

"Sister Y/N..." Jacinta addressed you. "Que fais-tu ici? (What are you doing here?)" You had steadied yourself against the wall; breathing labored. You still couldn't grasp what was happening. The world just collapsed on you. "D-Dead? Daryl is... dead? You... You killed him. You betrayed him." You looked up to face them; anger glimmering in your eyes. "No... You betrayed everything we stand for. You betrayed God and your belief."

Jacinta was visibly insulted by your words and already wanted to fire back at you, but a hand on her forearm held her back. The leader of the union de l'espoir gave her a look, then faced you with a smile. "Tiens, tiens, chère sœur... (Now now, dear sister...) Such harsh words from your lips..." He shook his head. "We did what had to be done. For this unity. For all of us. For Laurent to fulfill the prophecy. We are going to live again, sister Y/N. But not with Dixon. He isn't one of us. He's nothing but a lost soul. All he did was trying to lead Laurent off his foretold path. We couldn't let that happen..."

You scoffed and huffed out an ironic laugh. "Off his foretold path," you quoted - mocked the man. "Oh, allez! C'est ridicule! (Oh, come on! That's ridiculous!) All Daryl did was look out for Laurent. Without him, he wouldn't even be here at the nest! We all owe Daryl for what he did!" Your voice was raised; shaking with hurt and anger. Hands clenched to fists. You hadn't experienced such feelings in a long time.

Jacinta crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at you. "That sounds like the boy isn't the only one who got led off their path by Dixon..." She spoke in a low threatening voice. "Est-ce qu'il t'a aussi jeté un sort, sœur Y/N? (Did he cast a spell on you as well, sister Y/N?)" You shook your head. "No. I did not once leave the path I'm bound to walk. And Daryl certainly did not cast a spell on me." You looked both, Jacinta and Losang dead in the eyes. The time of denial and hiding was over. You wouldn't just stand here and accept this. You were going to fight for Daryl - no matter if he was dead or alive.

"It was God who led Daryl into my life. It was God who intertwined our fates and let the love grow between us. We are destined to be together - and I won't let this go. Not without a fight. I'm going to save him - and Laurent." With those words and a literal death glare, you turned on your heels to walk away - but you didn't get far.

"No, sister Y/N. You won't," Losang spoke up once more; his voice as cold as ice. "If you truly believe that God would allow a nun to get romantically involved with such a tainted, dark soul, then you're lost as well. Attrapez-la! (Get her.)"

Everything was blurred; your vision unclear. It's been like that for days - or already weeks? You couldn't tell. You had lost any sense of time in that damn old shower room turned dungeon. Your wrist hurt from the metallic handcuffs, which cuffed you to that old, rusty pipe. A bruise had already formed on the skin and some dried blood was staining the dirty sweatshirt you wore, due to the metal piercing and tore your flesh. You had tried so hard to break free, but your hand was too big to slip past the unrewarding material. Your blurry eyesight wasn't helping as well... You didn't even know why your eyes acted out like this. All you knew was that your head hurt. And that you were out cold for an unknown amount of time. You lastly remembered being dragged away by Losang's men. Then there was a huge gap in your brain's memory, and the next time you opened your eyes, you were in that shower stall; cuffed and with a throbbing headache. So, all you were left with was frustration, anger and pain.

Before you even registered what was happening, were you captured by two of Losang's fighters. They gripped your arms harshly; holding you in place. You didn't even know where they came from so suddenly. "H-Hey, what- Let go of me!" You tried to break free, but you weren't exactly the strongest and definitely not a trained fighter. They easily dragged you back to Losang and Jacinta. "Tu dois comprendre, chère sœur, que tu vas faire partie de tout ça. Tu vas nous aider et ce sera vivante ou morte... à toi de décider. (You need to understand, dear sister, that you are going to be a part of this. You are going to help us. If dead or alive is your decision.)"

Sure, they had dragged you out of this cell multiple times to torture you; trying to get more information about the thorn in their side, which was Daryl Dixon.

Why would they even need that information? Was he still alive? Was it a means to an end? Or purely just to hurt you and get your 'faith back on track'?

You did not know. All you knew was, that you'd die before you'd tell Losang's men anything. You prayed every night; asking God to give you the needed strength to get through this. To fight for the man you loved - even though he was probably dead. For this you prayed, too. For Daryl to still be alive and out there somewhere.

Your prayers got answered - kind of.

"I highly recommend you to talk, Mr. Dixon," Losang addressed the archer, who was being held down on his knees by two fighters - even though it wasn't actually necessary. Daryl was swaying back and forth slightly, still a bit dazed from the blow to the head he took. Blood dripped from his lips and several cuts on his face were stinging in pain. The bruise around his eye already started to form as he looked up at the leader through heavy-lidded eyes; panting heavily.

All he wanted was to save you - and Laurent, of course. Together with the only trustworthy friends he had left. Isabelle and Falou. Luckily, he was able to rescue the boy, who was now safe with his aunt and friend. He had stayed behind to find you, but... His plan obviously did not work, and he got captured.

A blow into the pit of his stomach got the archer to keel over; a grunt of pain leaving his lips. Another punch followed suit. Before a third one could find its target, Losang intervened. "Arrênte (Stop it)," he commanded firmly. "Ça n'aidera pas. (That won't help.)" Jacinta, who stood silently in a corner and watched the scenes unfold in front of her eyes agreed. "Il a raison. Ça ne le fera pas. (He's right. It won't help.) He isn't going to talk. Not like that." The woman exchanged a knowing look with the leader. "Perhaps, we use the wrong... leverage."

"Were is the boy?" Losang's voice cut through the quiet, tense air; demanding to get the precious information from the man on his knees. Daryl shook his head; slowly regaining full consciousness. "Fuck you," he spat. "Ain't gonna tell ya a damn thing."

Many men (and women) before Losang had tried to get into his head. Tried to twist him and torture him into surrender. But Daryl never broke. He won't ever break. His spirit was too strong. His loyalty towards the people he loved was too strong. They could do everything they wanted to him, but he would not break.

Wrong leverage?, Daryl questioned himself as he slowly straightened his upper body again. What was that supposed to mean?

His heart dropped; shattered into a trillion pieces. They had captured you as well.

"Ramène-la ici. (Get her)," Losang barked at two other men, who immediately shuffled and moved to get out of the room. The archer didn't know what was happening, but something inside him told him that it wasn't good. He had a really bad feeling.

Once steps could be heard outside the room, Losang turned to face Daryl again; a smug, sinister smile on his lips. "Let's see if I am able to persuade you now," he leaned dangerously closer, whispering: "In fact, I'm sure I can. Eyes to the front, Dixon." One man who held Daryl harshly gripped his chin to lift his head; making him look. Making him look how the two other men who had left the room a few minutes prior returned and dragging you with them.

His eyes frantically ran over your clearly weak and injured frame. You had bruises on your face. A deep cut gashing on your cheek. Dried blood stained your sweatshirt. You appeared to be not even properly conscious; eyelids drooping. When the men let go of you, you couldn't even stand on your own two feet and just slumped to the ground.

Daryl was wide awake again. The adrenaline flooding his system kudos to the anger and hurt he felt letting him forget his very own pain and injuries. "Y/N!" He yelled in a broken voice, and quickly shot up on his feet to get to you.

He didn't make it.

Before he could even take a step forward, the men who were positioned beside him held him back. He tried to fight against their grasp... "Y/N! Y/N!" ... but it was no use. "Wha' have ya done to 'er! You sick fuck! You-" A knee into his gut knocked the air out of his lungs and forced the archer back onto his knees.

Losang had watched the man's outburst from the sidelines. Now that he was put back into his place, he dared to step closer again; towering over him. "Now, Daryl... Did you made up your mind? Are you going to tell us now where the boy is, or do we have to push sister Y/N's limits even more?"

Daryl panted heavily and slowly lifted his eyes to look at Losang; pure hatred and anger oozing from the blue irises. "Fuck. You," he growled lowly. "Ya ain't gonna break me. Or Y/N. We ain't gonna talk. Ya gotta kill us first - but ya can't, 'cause then you'd be left without anythin' as well. Yer gonna lose this battle."

Once the room got quiet and the men left; locking the literal jail door behind them, Daryl tried to shift and move in an unsuccessful attempt to get closer to you. "Y/N!" He called out your name repeatedly with a strained, hoarse voice, "Y/N! Can ya hear me?" but he never received an answer. You were most likely still out cold. Slumping back against the wall in defeat and worry, he let his tired eyes slip shut. This was all his fault. He got you in this situation. He was the reason you had to suffer - and he hated himself for this. For letting this happen.

Losang gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. The man was seething with rage - much to Daryl's delight and satisfaction. He sent the archer a death glare, before he literally stomped backwards. "Emmez-les tout de suite! Qu'ils disparaissent de ma vue! (Take them away! Get them out of my sight!)" He yelled at the men who held both you and him captured. They flinched at the outburst, but immediately got to work; dragging you and Daryl away.

Like you, Daryl landed in the former shower room as well. They cuffed him to the shower stall beside yours; a thick wall separating you.

The hours ticked by. It had gotten dark by now. Daryl was constantly slipping in and out of sleep; too on edge to let himself rest, but his body took what it needed now and then. He was already on the verge of sleeping in again, when he suddenly heard your voice. Soft and weak, but it was there. "Daryl?" You whispered - and the archer was instantly wide awake again. "Y/N!" He shifted and moved; ignoring his aching limbs. The handcuffs rattling against the hook which held them (and him) in place. "Y/N? Yer awake?" He heard soft rustling from the other side of the wall. "I-I am, I... What happened?"

Daryl shook his head; beyond relief to hear your voice. It was a good sign. "Dun matter. Wha' happened to you, sunshine? What did that prick do to ya? Are ya in pain?"

You inhaled deeply; closing your eyes for a moment. "I... Overheard a conversation between Lo- Losang and Jacinta. They were..." You swallowed hard. "They were talking about the rescue mission they sent you on. It was a trap, set-" "Set to kill me. Yeah, I know," he finished your sentence; helping you. "I-I couldn't let this just happen, so I confronted them and landed here..." Daryl sighed. "Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "Tha's all cause 'a me. 'S my fault."

You shook your head - unbeknownst to your partner. "It's not... It was the decision I made. I chose this." Daryl gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip and fumbled with his fingers; gaze directed at the dirty ground beneath him. A long moment of silence passed, which got you worried. "Daryl?" Your slightly frantic voice got the archer out of his trance. "'M here," he reassured you in a soft voice, before sighing.

"It was yer decision, yeah, but... I should've come lookin' for ya earlier. Should've saved you. Protected you. I-" A sudden, very loud 'thud' cut off the archer; the stony ground beneath you shaking slightly. "What... What was that?" Daryl perked his ears and focused his eyes on the cage door ahead. "I dunno... Was like an earthquake or sum'thin'." "An earthquake? Can that be?" "Dunno. But whatever it was... We gotta stay attentive."

It didn't take long before other noises joined the 'thud'. Voices, yelling, gunshots, snarling... "Sounds like we're getting attacked," you whispered. "Yeah...," Daryl just said rather absentmindedly. You didn't see that he was working already for minutes to get his wrist free from the handcuff. "We... We have to get out of here. Those bars won't protect us..." There was fear in your voice. Daryl could clearly tell. "I know, sunshine," he started; finally freeing his hand, and stood up. "And we will."

He appeared in your field of view with the most loving smile you had ever seen upon his lips. You could've cried out of sheer relief - and you did. "Daryl..." You halfway sobbed; all the emotions crashing down on you. It had been just so much. The fear of losing him. The uncertainty. The physical and mental torture. He quickly crouched down in front of you - once again ignoring the pain he felt, and tried to uncuff you. "I know, I know. 'S all gonna be a'right." Big, calloused and strong hands gently took your hand to pick the lock. He was so gentle and cautious; seeing the wounds you had contracted as you visibly tried to break free. His heart hurt at the sight.

"I gotcha. I gotcha now," Daryl whispered as the lock finally gave out and you literally collapsed into his arms; crying and shaking. Daryl kissed your palm and gently pulled you up with him to cradle your body close to his. "'M here. I gotcha," he reassured you once more and just held you for a long moment. Just letting you feel him and the love he held for you.

"'N I'm gonna get us outta here. I promise, but ya gotta help me, okay? Can ya do tha' for me?" You inhaled a shaky breath; having calmed down again. "Y-Yes. Yes." Daryl nodded and slowly let you down again, so that you were standing on both your feet. You were still a bit wobbly, so he kept steadying you.

Another moment later, he pulled back enough to look into your eyes. A tender smile adorned his face. He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ears and cautiously wiped away the stray tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Tha's my woman." You gave him a faint, soft smile in return. The archer maintained eye contact, and dipped his head to bestow a gentle, yet so loving kiss upon your lips.

"Now c'mon. Let's get outta here, find Laurent and the others, 'n go back home."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @dixonsstinkysock @loz-3 @bigbaldheadname @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @ffsjustletmesleep @huntedmusicgardenn @mayday2007 @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @imadisneyprincessiswear @cakesandtom

[steamclouds]

Voradras Adravo - Arcane Trickster Rogue

He's born and raised in the Underdark, in Menzoberranzan as second son of a noble House, so he spends the first nearly 50 years of his life in this lightless place. And for most of his life, his goal is to leave that place, to see the sun. To feel the wind on his face. And after he achieves it he can finally leave Menzo in his past and find a new home for himself. Its a reminder that things are going to be alright.

Tagging @titan-wolfdog, @goromimii , @dagoth-menthol , @oflorelei @ervona and @wineredsea, have fun :)

What Song?

So, a little game - what song encapsulates your Tav/Durge? Post a picture of them, their name and class and a link to the song that represents them with the reason why.

Ayressa Aedihle - Bardlock (College of Lore/The Arch Fey)

This song was a find from a few years ago, but it’s become Ayressa’s song because it’s what I imagine her voice to sound like. Haunting vocals echo through this song and while its lyrics aren’t hopeful, it does speak of a sort of eternal love.

I suppose it’s more appropriate for any iteration of Ayressa who loses Gale - either to the Orb or Sneaky!God syndrome but I still think that it has a place with Ayressa getting a happy ending.

Your turn.

[zepskies]

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a future lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

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[em1i2a3]

Cradle

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Mom(Post-Partum)!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Starts off on a bit of a scary note, Fluff, lot’s of it, reader went through a C-Section, and there is a reference to that, there is accidental swearing, and once again Bucky is just a super soft sweet boi being his sweet boi self…But all in all, very fluffy, very cute, just pure vibes.

Authors Note: This is connected to ‘Forwards Beckon Rebound,’ it’s a little bit of a continuation of sorts but it’s more of a blurb, there’s not a lot connected, this could be read as a standalone too though, I think. Also, Adrianne Lenker has really been a mood for me lately, and thank god she has so many beautiful songs because this one was so frickin fitting.

Word Count: 3,443

Taglist: @sleepysongbirdsings (y’all I’m so mentally old I’m slowly getting used to what to do for these posts lol, so if anyone wants to be part of my Taglist I mean…Give me a shout :))

The last thing you remembered before going under was Bucky’s voice. His large hands framing your face, his thumbs running along the bags under your eyes.

”I promise I’ll be here when you wake up…” His voice was cracking, fear breaking through his words. He was terrified, you could see it in the way his dark blue irises scanned over your face, taking every detail in as if this could be the last time he saw you. Everything happened so quickly that neither of you had time to process anything. One moment you were in the hospital bed getting checked, the next they were preparing you for an emergency C-Section. You were panicking, scared for the baby, scared for yourself even.

You reached up and squeezed his fingers tight–a desperate goodbye you didn’t want to be saying–nodding through the tears that streamed down your face, then the cool oxygen mask slid over your mouth and nose, and you were taken under a sea of black.

————-

Coming back to consciousness felt like being dragged through wet cement. Your limbs were heavy and numb, as if they were being pinned down by invisible weights. Your throat was burning and your mouth was dry, you assumed it was probably from the tube they had put down your throat during the surgery to make sure your breathing was controlled, you heard them mention it in the chaos of them preparing you for the C-Section…At least you thought you did.

Thankfully there was no immediate pain, just a deep, tight ache that buzzed in your lower abdomen reminding you of what just occurred two and a half hours ago.

You felt like you were floating, half-aware, but half-asleep, until the sound of voices pulled you closer to the surface.

“You’re doing perfect hun,” A soft, coaxing voice said, you assumed it was a nurse. Her tone was patient, and warm, almost motherly even.

”I’m…I just haven’t done this before…I don’t think I’m doing this right.” Another voice cracked out, low and thick with nerves. It was Bucky. Your Bucky…Your rock...You could feel your chest twist at the sound of him so worried, but there was such relief when you heard that voice.

“You’ve been doing great. She’s calm, she’s breathing steady. Been asleep for the past hour after that big feed. You’re keeping her warm and giving her something steady to nap on, I’d say you’re a pro.” You could feel your body immediately tense at the word she. A baby girl. You had fought to keep the gender a secret from yourself, and now knowing gave you some sort of second wind in a way, a push to try and keep yourself over the edge so you could stay at least semi-conscious.

There was a soft rustle of fabric, a faint creak of a chair, and the sound of shifting. You forced your eyes open, just the tiniest bit, fighting against the weight that was trying to pull them closed again.

The first thing you saw was him.

Bucky was sitting stiffly in the reclining hospital chair, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward, like he was attempting to curl himself around the tiny bundle in his arms, trying to make himself seem small in a way, which was nearly impossible given the sheer size of him. His hair was pulled back in a bun, and he was shirtless, with a soft pink blanket covering a portion of his chest and midsection, containing as much warmth as possible. His vibranium hand hovered awkwardly over the fabric, resting there for support, but not fully touching, letting his other arm do all the heavy lifting. You could see the way it was wrapped around her, his enormous hand cupping nearly her whole back with the most delicate kind of softness.

Your vision was still swimming, but you could make out the faint shape of a tiny hand–impossibly small–splayed out over the center of Bucky’s broad chest. Her little fingers twitched now and then, though there were no shifts or squeals, not yet at least.

The entire sight was almost too much to take in.

You could see how tense Bucky was even from across the room, his jaw tight, his brows drawn together. It was easy to tell he was nervous and worried that he might accidentally do something wrong, and every muscle in his body showed that through the way they locked and tensed into place so that he could hold himself perfectly still.

”I-I definitely don’t feel like a pro,” Bucky muttered, “I’m scared I’m gonna hold her too tight…She’s so small.” The nurse chuckled softly, adjusting the blanket a bit higher over the baby’s back with a practiced hand, moving carefully, and reading the tension that was running all over his face. She was treating him with the same tenderness she might offer a brand-new parent, even though she knew the situation.

“She’s not little. Nine pounds, two ounces is a chunky little peanut.” The nurse teased gently, patting Bucky’s vibranium arm reassuringly, “You’re just a big ol’ mountain of a man, and you make everything look tiny.” Bucky gave a small, uncertain laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes, even though it did ease him a bit. He continued to cradle the bundle against him, dragging his thumb along her warm skin, a small smile coming up on his lips as he looked down at a carbon copy of you, just in tinier form.

His head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against the crown of the baby’s fuzzy head, breathing in without even realizing he was doing it. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second he looked younger and softer than you’d ever seen him before.

“Is it weird if I say she smells like spun sugar…Like Coney Island cotton candy…That real sweet, sticky kind of smell.” Bucky asked quietly, his voice rough with nerves and awe as he cradled the bundle tighter to him. The nurse let out a soft, affectionate laugh.

”Not weird at all,” She soothed, “Every baby’s got their own smell, it’s kind of like a new car smell…But for tiny humans, and you’re certainly not the first tough guy to melt over it, either.” You could see Bucky’s cheeks turn a faint red through the blurriness in your vision. You swallowed against the dry scrape in your throat, heart aching as you opened your mouth to form a word.

”Bucky…” It was barely a sound, just a breath in the air, but he had heard it. His head immediately snapped up, his wide blue eyes locking onto you from across the room, a wave of relief washing over him. His mouth parted, but no sound came out, and he looked wrecked. It was like he had heard the most important voice of his life. The nurse nudged him slightly.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s bring her to mama hm?” Bucky blinked up at her like he’d forgotten he could move, like the only thing that was keeping him focused was you and the tiny heartbeat that was pressed against his chest. Slowly, he shifted to his feet, the nurse helping guide him as he adjusted his hold on the baby with exaggerated care. You could see the way he kept his vibranium arm hovering uselessly by his side as he stepped towards you, and you could feel tears filling your eyes at the gentleness of it all.

You tried to lift your arms, desperate to reach for the both of them, but they barely twitched against the sheets. A helpless whimper tore itself from your throat.

”My arms are still numb.” You croaked, feeling the tingling heaviness that plagued your nerves. Immediately the nurse was beside you, smoothing a hand over your shoulder.

”That’s alright sweetheart, we can still get her tucked up against you, Bucky over here can climb in beside you and secure her on your chest for extra safety.” Bucky stood frozen for a second, looking down at the tiny bundle, then at you.

“I would like that.” You replied quickly. The nurse smiled at your response and held her hands out to Bucky motioning for him to hand over the bundle so he could slip onto the mattress, and fill the space beside you. The hand off was gentle, and you could see the look on his face when the soft warmth of the baby’s skin left him, like he was holding onto the fleeting moment. He kicked his shoes off and brought down the railing beside you, carefully sliding underneath the covers, the mattress shifting beneath the new weight he introduced to it. You knew it would be a tight fit, but you wanted him there with you, and no matter the close proximity, you just craved his steady presence, and he gave you that with no questions.

He slid his vibranium arm around your shoulders, curling it carefully around you, bringing you closer to him with such a protective instinct that you could feel your heart beating out of your chest, leaning into him, absorbing the warmth that radiated off his skin.

”Alright, now you’re gonna help me a little bit and just untie the top of her gown so we can get the little one tucked in.” Bucky nodded once, like he was taking orders on a mission. He reached up to the shoulders of your gown, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, before gently pulling on the ties, loosening them slowly just enough to reveal the top of your chest. The cool air ghosted across your skin for just a fraction of a second, then the nurse carefully placed the tiny, perfect weight of your daughter onto your body.

The moment her skin touched yours, it was as if the whole world cracked open. The heat of her, the fragile rise and fall of her chest against yours, the indescribable softness of her cheek pressing into the curve of your breastbone, the way she nuzzled her little nose into you with her fists curling up tight against your body–it was overwhelming, but worth every second. You could feel the coolness of Bucky’s vibranium hand run over your bicep, soothing you the only way he could in those moments as he looked down at you, watching tears flowing down your cheeks. You were so relieved everything was okay, and now that your eyes were on her, the instinct of wanting to be closer pulled at every fiber of your being. Bucky brought his arm over her back so he could hold her closer against your chest, keeping her nuzzled on your skin so you could take in every moment, even though you couldn’t cradle her on your own yet.

“That’s perfect sweetheart,” The nurse said quietly, tucking the soft pink blanket loosely around all three of you, securing the warmth once more without actively separating everyone, “I’m going to step out and give you all some privacy, if you need anything the call button’s right on the bed rail.” The both of you nodded, but you weren’t even sure you heard her properly because you were so enamoured by the little bundle that was frowning against you.

The door clicked softly behind the nurse as she stepped out of the room, leaving the three of you wrapped in a bubble of silence. Neither of you moved at first. There was too much floating in the air around you–gratitude, wonder, a love so thick it was hard to breathe through. The only sound that could truly be heard was the tiny, steady coos of the newborn sleeping against your chest.

Slowly, Bucky shifted closer to you, and without a word he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was feather-light, the kind of kiss that would’ve broken you in any other situation apart from this. When he pulled back, his lips ghosted another peck against your hairline.

”You are…Incredible.” He whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he was holding in, “The strongest person I’ve ever met.” He added, another kiss landing right on your temple.

“I’m so proud of you Y/N…” You closed your eyes at his words, a fresh wave of tears burning behind the lids, as you leaned down to press your cheek against the tiny crown of soft fuzz that was your daughter’s head, breathing in to calm your heart from seizing up from the overwhelming sensation of love that coated it. You let the scent of her settle in your lungs, and it hit you that it was exactly how Bucky described it. Sweet and warm, soft and sticky like spun sugar on a summer day. You let out a little, tearful laugh against her head.

”You really are right…She does smell like cotton candy,” Bucky let out a low, broken chuckle, tightening his arm around you, his hand stilling against your bicep, shifting so he could get even closer to you.

“I thought I was hallucinating, so I’m glad you confirmed that. I assumed the nurse was just trying to ease my worries when she said it was normal.” You let out a quiet giggle, looking up at him.

”I think it was for the best. You looked so nervous…Like a gentle giant.” He blushed at the way you said it, realizing that you had been watching and listening to his interaction with the nurse for longer than he thought.

“Yeah well…I was scared,” Bucky replied sheepishly, his eyes flickering from you, down to the tiny sleeping bundle against your chest, “She’s a carbon copy of you…I didn’t want to accidentally do something wrong.” You smiled through the burning in your throat, bringing yourself even closer to him, nuzzling into the steady shelter of his body.

”You did amazing, Bucky…” You whispered. He let out a shaky exhale, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours, his forehead tipping down to bump yours. You know how much he needed to hear that, and how much it soothed the nerves that were ripping him apart from the inside. The baby cooed gently, shifting a bit against you, her tiny fist moving along your chest, like she was trying to get closer.

The both of you watched her, your chests moving in sync, taking in deep breaths, and after a while, he broke the silence.

”So…” He said softly, his thumb stroking absently along your forearm, “Have you thought about what you’re going to name her?” You could feel a smile tugging up on your lips at the question.

”I have,” You responded gently, shifting slightly so you could see his face better. He pulled back a little as well, giving you his full, undivided attention, his eyes focused on yours, scanning over your face in anticipation.

”I’ve actually known for months,” You admitted, watching as Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually told him everything, but this was a secret you kept safe until today, not wanting to be too reliant on getting a specific gender, because truly it didn’t matter, all you wanted was a healthy baby. He tried to hold himself back from looking too desperate for your answer, but you saw through it.

“I want her to have the name of the person who raised my second favourite human being in the world,” You said quietly, your voice trembling with such tenderness it almost felt like you were shaking against him. You could see the cogs turning in his head, his brows pulling together even tighter like he was trying to figure out what you meant by that. You loved seeing the confusion in his eyes in that moment, and it made you smile through the tears that began to build up in your eyes.

”Winnifred,” You whispered, “I’m naming her Winnifred.” You could feel the air get sucked out of the room, watching Bucky’s jaw go slack, blinking hard, once, then twice, like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he just heard. His throat bobbed in a rough swallow, as he took in a small breath.

”My ma…” He rasped, his voice breaking into pieces, his eyes glistening over with unshed tears as he stared at you like he was witnessing a miracle “You…You’re naming her after my ma?” You nodded, smiling through your own tears. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to ground himself, his forehead lowering until it rested lightly against yours, his breath shuddering out over your cheeks.

“You deserve everything good in this world, Bucky…And she would be so proud of you…I want to honour that.” You could feel him shake slightly, as he sniffled, pulling back to look at you again. The sheer sight of him wrecked you, his blue eyes swimming with tears that clung thickly to his lashes. You wished in those moments you could reach up to hold his face between your hands, but they were still tingling.

”You’re…You’re my sun, Y/N…” He whispered, his vibranium hand slipping from your bicep to cradle the side of your face with aching tenderness, “You’re the center of everything for me…I choose to be in your orbit every second of every day…And I don’t want to do anything else.” You could feel yourself choke up a little bit, as Bucky carefully leaned forward, kissing your cheeks gently, soft and slow, like he was memorizing you.

“Because I love you…So fucking much.” His breath ran over your skin as he said the words so lightly you could barely hear them over your pulse pounding in your ears. His confession hung between the both of you, filling the space and sinking into your body like sunlight after a long, brutal winter. You closed your eyes at his thumb dragging along your cheek, your breath trembling as you pushed yourself to speak.

”I love you too, Bucky…I always have.” There was a moment of silence, and you opened your eyes to look at him, seeing a small smile on his lips. It was such a relief to finally say it aloud, and it was the perfect moment to do it. He breathed you in for a fraction of a second, then without words he shifted. His hand slid from your cheek to the side of your neck, his fingers splaying out to anchor himself there. You tilted your chin, nudging your nose against his, then finally…His lips touched yours.

It was barely a kiss at first, it actually mirrored the way you had brushed the corner of his mouth with yours the night he had felt the baby kick for the first time, but only this was more like he was offering himself to you. Surrendering.

You let out a small exhale through your nose, and Bucky answered with a breath of his own, pressing a little closer, kissing you now with just the slightest bit of pressure. The softness of his lips captured yours in such an aching, and burning way…Because it was him kissing you with a kind of worship so raw and stripped down that it made your chest swell.

You kissed him back with everything you had, and with as much care as he gave you, trembling against each other with the weight of it all–the baby sleeping on your skin, the love that tied you together, the history, the hope, and the future.

When you finally broke apart, it was by small fractions, neither of you really willing to let go–your noses brushing, your breath still tangling together in the space between you.

“I’m all yours…” He whispered, letting the words fold into the fragile air, like a promise. Like a prayer. You closed your eyes for a second, breathing every inch of him in–his warmth, his steadiness, and his devotion.

“Forever and always, Bucky…Till the end of time.”

[rafeskai]

Stolen Glances - Drew Starkey

Summary: At the Met Gala, Reader, a singer, and Drew Starkey share an unexpected connection after slipping away from the spotlight to escape the chaos. Bonding over music and the pressures of fame, they find themselves drawn to each other, sharing candid moments and stolen glances throughout the night.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Popstar!Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Let me know if I should make this a short series :)

The lights are blinding, bouncing off the sleek walls and polished floors, reflecting the glitz and glamor of a world that feels surreal even to you, despite having been in the limelight for years. The Met Gala was one of the events you could never quite get used to — an annual, glittering parade of artists, designers, models, and the occasional movie star. Tonight, you’ve arrived with your team, decked out in a show-stopping outfit that had social media buzzing long before you even stepped onto the red carpet.

After the red carpet and photo-ops, you slip away, seeking a quieter corner of the hall, clutching a champagne glass that’s more for show than sipping. It’s here, away from the flashing cameras, that you hear someone chuckle softly nearby.

“So you’re hiding out too, huh?”

You turn toward the voice and find yourself face-to-face with Drew Starkey. He’s tall, with an easy smile, his tux fitting him like it was made for him. You recognize him immediately — the Internet’s favorite bad boy. And despite the flashy lights outside, he somehow exudes a quiet, laid-back charm that feels surprisingly out of place in a room full of larger-than-life personalities.

“Guilty,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips as you raise your glass. “Needed a breather. How about you?”

Drew chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes sweeping over the crowded hall. “Yeah, I’m not too big on these things either. But they told me it’d be ‘good for my image,’” he says, making air quotes with a playful grin.

You laugh, nodding in understanding. “They say that a lot. But hey, it’s not so bad. I’ve already had three strangers tell me they love my latest album, which they clearly haven’t listened to.”

Drew chuckles, his gaze meeting yours. “Well, for what it’s worth, I did listen to your latest album. My sister is obsessed. I think I’ve heard every song about a thousand times.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Then you must be a fan by now.”

He shrugs with a playful smile. “Maybe I am. Got a favorite track, actually.”

Curiosity piqued, you tilt your head, challenging him. “Really? Which one?”

He steps closer, lowering his voice as if to keep the answer between the two of you. “Track three. ‘Lonely Nights,’ right? That song hits different.”

You blink, caught off guard by his choice. That song was raw, a rare glimpse of your private self in an industry that often demanded you be someone else. Hearing Drew mention it, with that earnest glint in his eye, stirs something in you.

“Didn’t expect that,” you admit. “Most people go for the upbeat stuff. The party anthems.”

He shrugs again, an easy smile gracing his lips. “Guess I’m not most people.”

Before you can respond, a voice calls out to you from across the room — your manager, reminding you that you’re needed back on the main floor.

You give Drew an apologetic smile, reluctant to leave. “Duty calls, I guess.”

He nods, his gaze lingering on you. “Good luck out there.”

You turn to leave, but then glance back at him, emboldened. “Hey, maybe we’ll run into each other again tonight?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling under the dim lights. “Count on it.”

As the night wears on, you spot Drew in the crowd multiple times, catching his eye each time and exchanging a silent smile or a raised glass. Eventually, you find yourself back in that quiet corner, escaping the chaos once more — and it’s no surprise that Drew finds his way there too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he jokes, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

“Guess this is our spot now,” you reply, a smile creeping onto your face.

The rest of the night blurs into an effortless flow of conversation. Drew listens intently as you share anecdotes from your world, and he offers his own, giving you glimpses into the life of an actor constantly in the public eye. There’s a quiet understanding between you both, an unspoken bond between two people navigating the glitzy chaos of fame.

As the night winds down, and the crowd begins to thin, Drew walks you outside, where the city lights glisten in the darkness.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, the words leaving you softer than you intended.

He glances down at you, his gaze steady. “No problem. Hopefully, we get to do it again sometime.”

Before you can respond, he takes a step back, giving you a quick, almost shy smile before disappearing into the night.

You’re left standing there, with a new excitement buzzing in your chest. The first spark of something that feels rare and real — and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something extraordinary.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. My work is a work of fiction inspired by different characters, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[taeaura]

Thomas {Hewitt}'s Interests

From a gal who's hyper fixating on this franchise

So..I'd like to preface this by saying I do not live nor have ever lived in the Deep South or Midwest. BUT, I do visit the midwest often - which doesn't mean much but give me grace 😭🙏

____

Bone Collecting

I used to collect bones when I'd visit my grandparents up in the mountains - It was fun. I feel like he'd do the same {given his 'role'}. We already know he collects ears, teeth, eyeballs, even heads - and most definitely skin; So why not bones? He probably collected bones when he was younger - Maybe with Henrietta, if they happened to be close.

I like to imagine he has a box or shelf full of his 'collections'; He's got a whole museum in there I guarantee it. Some bugs, bones, bone fragments, hides, teeth, claws, rocks n' geodes, all sorts of naturally-occurring treasures.

General Foraging

In TCM 2003, Thomas is seen wearing rings which I doubt are his {though, they fit him pretty well}. He probably stole them from a victim - And he most definitely kept that engagement ring from Kemper. He'll take clothes, jewelry, books, photographs, toys, drawing utensils, wildflowers, bugs, abandoned artifacts, anything he likes really. He'd go HAM in a thrift shop, trust. I've been to thrift shops in the midwest - They are gold; Lots of old pictures, some racist things {which I do NOT thing are gold}, old jewelry, lots of gemstones, bones, license plates, clothes {obviously}, letters, toys, paintings / posters, vinyls, CDs, furniture, old guns, bullet shells, all kinds of forgotten treasures. I think Tommy would like it if the store was empty..

Sewing

This one's obvious - Thomas uses sewing as a form of catharsis; A way to transform himself just as he transforms the scraps of leather. We see his sewing machine in his room, along with mannequins and mannequin heads; Indicating sewing is something he does often. I doubt he only makes mask - Maybe casings, potential jewelry; He'd definitely make something for his partner or a close friend..not so much the family considering they aren't..the most grateful or encouraging.

His {The Family's} Animals

Despite his busy schedule, I'm sure Thomas likes to spend time with the animals on the Hewitt property. The canon animals {that we've seen so far} include Monty's dog {unnamed canonically}, three pigs, and a few chickens. Now, I know there's gonna be a crowd that spews "But Thomas worked in a slaughterhouse!! He wouldn't take kindly to animals!1!1!1!!" Just because I eat meat doesn't mean I don't adore animals - The meat I eat is from a dead animal. I'm quite literally eating its cooked carcass. Thomas is doing the same - Only he's doing the dirty work firsthand.

I don't know how connected he'd be to Monty's dog - considering that dog is with Monty all. the. time. - But he'd be really connected to the 'livestock'. The pigs don't seem too old - not piglets per se but not fully grown either. I assume Thomas or Luda Mae collect the eggs, meaning Thomas sees the animals quite a lot. He doesn't seem like the type to show too much physical {or verbal} affection - But his primary executions are through observation and care. {I headcanon his love languages as acts of service and quality time; Though he appreciates receiving words of affirmation.} He keeps the animals clean, well-fed, and healthy; Whilst occasionally spending time with them outside his daily chores.

Music

Okay, so ! I've been contemplating Thomas' music taste for a bit now, {previously posted about it} and I have a few inklings I'll try to share:

I've seen many people headcanon Thomas as a 'Kernel' {unofficial name for a Korn fan}; And while I love Korn myself, I don't see Thomas in the same light. Maybe he'd like some of their songs, but I envision him as an occasional nu-metal listener. Type O Negative reminds me of Tommy a lot - Don't know why. I don't think he'd listen to them a TON - But more often than Korn, maybe. If we look back to TCM 2003 from 37:10 to 37:20, Thomas plays something of the metal / rock genre. More heavy-metal than anything in MY opinion. Let's forget about timelines for a minute whilst we walk through this.

I previously stated that Thomas would potentially like bands such as Mortician, Alice In Chains, maybe SoundGarden, Metallica, Black Sabbath?, Pantera, Cannibal Corpse, Megadeth - Bands similar to these as well. This might be controversial but I don't think Thomas would mind country music. Hell, I think he'd listen to some Johnny Cash or The Highwaymen if it came on - Some classic, soulful country. It's not like his momma blasts it or anything...

Continuing on the family note; Skynyrd. That's all I have to say.

In all actuality; I'm sure Hoyt's music taste rubs off on Thomas a bit - I'm sure Thomas prefers metal, but he'll listen to rock just the same. Maybe a little Elvis, Skynyrd, AC/DC here and there; He's not too fussy.

____

Anway, ramble ramble, yappa yappa; This has gone on long enough - But I'd happily make more if the people want it {😈🙏}

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Take care 🫀

[leighsartworks216]

Angel, Please

Zayne x gn!Reader

Went shopping with my roommate thinking it would be really quick, and then spent like an hour in there just pushing the cart for them and losing all energy and ability to think. This is the result of that

Title is from the song "Angel, Please" by Ra Ra Riot

Warnings: sensory overload, anxiety, avoiding a mental breakdown, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2,103

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare down at the shopping list in your hand, written in a mix of handwriting. Some items listed were written down by Zayne, others were added by you. A culmination of a week or so worth of groceries. It’s harder to read the words than it should be.

You have milk, cereal… You look back and forth between your cart and the list, but you can’t connect the dots. Nothing is clicking together.

Milk. Check.

Cereal. Check.

Your skin feels uncomfortably hot and itchy, but you don’t take off your sweatshirt and you don’t scratch. Your chest is tight, and you can’t seem to get a deep enough breath in. You zone out while staring at the list, urging your body to get a hold of itself.

“Excuse me,” someone scoffs as they invade your space to reach for something on the shelf behind you. They give you a look, judgemental and cruel, and walk away with a huff. Their basket bumps your cart with a clang that makes you twitch.

God, could they please turn the music down? The lights down? You just- You just need everyone to disappear. You just need to disappear.

You bite your cheek long enough to suffer through a self-checkout. You rapidly scan whatever you do have - more than just milk and cereal, but you don’t even process them anymore - and pay as quickly as possible, conscious of the eyes of other waiting customers trying to check out boring into you, judging you, urging you to just fucking move already.

The cool autumn air doesn’t soothe you enough. You throw everything into the trunk of your car. The pavement of the parking lot vibrates your hands as you push the cart to the nearest return. You rub them on your sweatshirt desperately.

You have to keep it together. You can’t break down in a parking lot at a grocery store just because all of your senses were freaking out. You are a Hunter! You fight Wanderers! You put your life on the line every single day! Why are you losing it here of all places?!

Your hands shake as you find Zayne’s number. It connects to the bluetooth in your car and you pull out of the parking space.

Are you really 100% fit to drive? No. But you need to get away from here as soon as possible. As tempting as it would be to ask to be picked up, you don’t want to be a burden.

“Hello?”

You swallow thickly. Your hands rub restlessly at the steering wheel. “H-Hey.” You clear your throat. “Hey. I’m heading home now.”

“Are you alright?” Zayne asks.

You want to put your head on the wheel and cry. You feel pathetic.

“Did something happen?” You picture his frown. The way his eyes sharpen when he tries to pick apart a little mystery. You want him with you right now. “Please answer me.”

“I-I’m fine,” you answer quickly, a knee-jerk reaction to the question. You know you’re trying to convince yourself. You know he doesn’t believe it for a second. “Just… Just stay on the phone with me until I get back. Can you…? Am I bothering you?”

He hushes you softly through the phone. “You’re not bothering me, darling. I’ll stay with you.” You sigh shakily. His voice sounds so nice right now. Your left leg bounces restlessly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You scramble to think of anything. You anxiously wait for traffic to clear enough to let you turn out of the parking lot. Your mind is taking in too much and too little information at the same time. Cars are just colored shapes, but you know where every single light source is around you. They keychains hanging from the key in the ignition rubs your leg like someone is drawing fire across your skin with a paintbrush. You try batting them away, but the jingle grates in your ears like it’s been amplified.

You pull into the flow of traffic, at last.

“Why don’t we talk about that show you enjoy so much?” he offers carefully. “The one with the girl caught in a love triangle? What was her Evol again?”

“She…” You swallow and check your speed. As badly as you want to get home, you don’t want to get pulled over either. “She can feel other people’s emotions. And, and in one episode she changes them, too.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Does she feel the attraction from the other characters? The men from the love triangle. What are their names?”

“Joseph and,” you turn on your blinker and wait at the stop light, “Damien. She can, but she feels bad because she’s not interested in either of them. So she pretends she doesn’t feel it.”

“So if she’s not interested in the prospective love interests, who does she like?”

You slowly pull up as a yellow arrow blinks, waiting for a gap in traffic to pull through. Once you’re driving steadily again, you answer. “She has a crush on her bed friend in the show, Melina. It’s really sweet, actually. But Melina has no clue, even though Therese, the main girl, keeps hinting at it, because Melina thinks Therese is interested in Damien.”

“That would be a tricky situation to be in. Who do you think she’ll end up with by the end?”

You laugh, but it’s slightly airy and strained, like someone punched it out of you. “I hope she gets with Melina, obviously!” You turn your blinker on again at a stop sign and turn after a second. This road doesn’t get too busy. “There’s actually some hints that Joseph and Damien will end up together. Everyone online thinks they’re competing for Therese’s love to try hiding their own feelings for each other.”

He doesn’t respond for a second. “Are you almost home, darling?”

You blink, and just like that, you’ve been snapped back into your body, aware once more of your surroundings. You’re in the middle of pulling into the apartment’s parking lot. You don’t even remember the drive to get there. “Y-Yeah. I’m here, actually,” you murmur.

“Okay. I’ll meet you down there. Do you need me to stay on the phone until then?”

You fiddle with the keychains, considering it. Everything doesn’t feel so itchy anymore. Your eyes hurt, but it feels more like the sting of exhaustion. Your head still thuds with a headache, but the noises that fueled it before feel more bearable now. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Call me again if you need to. I’m on the way.”

The call ends and you turn off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and holding them in your lap. You feel surreal, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your body now that it’s not screaming about every little thing. The parking lot outside your window doesn’t feel real. The bike you parked next to, your bike, feels out of place.

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel, shutting your eyes tightly. Why can’t you just feel normal already?

A finger taps on the glass. You look up and watch as Zayne opens the door for you. “Are you alright?” he asks again.

You bite your tongue to avoid answering automatically. But the real answer eludes you. You don’t think you’re gonna freak out if your sweatshirt happens to brush your neck in a weird way, but you’re not exactly sure you could just calmly ignore it if it did happen either.

You slip out of the seat and out of the car. Zayne has that concerned look on his face, like you’ve just told him you haven’t slept for a week straight, but he doesn’t say anything, just shuts the door behind you.

He opens the trunk and begins gathering messily thrown-together bags of groceries. You grab one of the lighter ones that he leaves for you, and close the trunk. The car beeps when you hit the lock button on the fob.

Once you’re inside, you sit at the kitchen island and watch as he puts away everything you got. You find the crumpled list in your pocket. You have the clarity now to see just how many items you missed, including things you needed to make dinner tonight. You want to crumple yourself up into a ball like this paper.

Zayne’s hand comes into view as he slides the paper over to where he stands. He has a notepad and a pen, and he goes down the old list to write out what you missed.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t answer until he finishes the list, clicking the pen and setting it down. Then, his full attention is on you. “Can you tell me what happened now?”

You can’t meet his eyes. It’s hard enough admitting actual health issues to him, let alone stupid shit like this. Logically, you know he’s seen this happen to you before, know he wouldn’t think it’s stupid like you do. But it’s still difficult.

“I just got overwhelmed,” you mutter. You trace shapes into the marble countertop. “Everything was so loud and bright and… And I panicked, that’s all.”

“How do you feel now?”

You sigh and cross your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. “I’ve got a headache, and I’m tired. But I’m not? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I’m in a dream. Nothing feels real right now.”

He hums in understanding. “I can think of several treatment plans that may help.” You finally look at him and he shoots you a wry grin. “First, I suggest you take some pain medication for your headache, before it gets any worse. After that, you have a few options. You can go take a nap or spend some time alone to decompress. You can put on your noise-cancelling headphones and listen to music or a podcast. Or we can watch that show you told me about, and I can make you some tea.”

“That’s a lot of choices, doc.”

“It’s in the patient’s best interests to have a lot of options,” he says. “You’re not beholden to any one choice.”

You look away as you think about it. What do you want right now? What do you need? “Can I mix and match?”

He nods. “Of course you can.”

“Tea sounds nice,” you start. “I don’t want to sleep right now, but I can listen to music, I think. But I just want to be with you.” You look at him again. “Is that alright?”

He smiles, answering you without words. Instead, he moves around the kitchen to fill a kettle with water and sets it on the stove. He disappears down the hall to retrieve two pills and your headphones, setting both on the counter in front of you. He fills a glass with some water for you to take the meds. You grab the headphones and slip them on, and head over to the couch to get comfortable. They connect to your phone once you turn them on. You scroll through your playlists for a while, but the more you look, the more unappealing it sounds to you.

Zayne comes in with a steaming mug of tea, prepared how he knows you like it. You hesitantly take off your headphones. “Actually, will you read to me?”

“What would you like to hear?”

You shrug. “Anything. I just want to hear your voice right now.”

He browses the bookshelf nearby. You set your headphones down and blow on the tea to cool it down. He slips one of the books out and carries it over to the couch. You curl into his side the second he’s sitting down.

The book is one of your favorites. You’ve never seen him read it before, but he’s seen you pull it out lots of times ever since you moved in together. You smile. A comfortable warmth emanates from your heart.

The paper slides gently from one side to the next as he turns the pages. It’s not grating. It doesn’t send shocks of discomfort through your body. You cradle the mug close as you rest your head on his shoulder, letting your eyes relax as you skim the familiar words. His shirt on your cheek isn’t scratchy at all. It’s nice and soft.

He begins reading and you close your eyes. You breathe in deep the cool scent of his cologne, the fresh smell of his body wash, the slightly bitter, rich essence of the tea.

You can relax here. You can exist here. This feels real.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope

[seyaryminamoto]

My latest completed commission may have been a bit ambitious... because I went wild with it. But I certainly relished in doing so :') Combining my favorite ship with my favorite-ever Disney movie is, uh... a dangerous concoction :'D

The commissioner specifically requested for Azula as Mulan, Sokka as Shang, and Xin Long (my OC dragon from Gladiator) as Mushu. The rest of the cast was up to me to choose, and I pretty much went wild rewatching this movie and picking out some of my favorite moments to recreate them in my style, with these characters. I came up with a lot of correlating characters between both ATLA and 1998's Mulan, but I couldn't hope to draw EVERYTHING, unfortunately. Still, if you want my reasoning for the cast correlation... check out the Read More! Beyond that, feel free to reach out to me if you'd like to commission me, or if you want to join my Patreon!

The Herbalist as Mulan's grandmother might feel arbitrary but she honestly felt like the ATLA elderly lady with the most similar personality to Grandma Fa. Fickle, with a unique connection with a seemingly perfectly ordinary animal, old and sassy? Figured it fit! So for once, the Herbalist is Azula's grandma! xD strange notion, I know, Azulon/Herbalist is not a ship I ever thought I'd accidentally put out in the world but there have been wilder ships than that in this fandom...

Momo became Cri-Kee, I wasn't 100% sold on it but when I considered that Avatar features soooo many hybrid animals... I figured he could be a hybrid cricket-lemur. Weird, I know, but eh? Better than nothing xD

Aang as Chien-Po was a no-brainer. He's the only character I settled on instantly, never even considered anyone else for the role. Their personalities line up really well, and Chien-Po's tendency to be OP and resolve things that are outside of other people's reach sounded like he was prime Avatar material! So, while their dietary preferences are an obvious difference between them, I decided to go for it nonetheless considering all their other similarities!

Kino (another Gladiator OC) is Ling, and he actually did give me a ton of trouble to choose. I considered many characters for the role right up until I realized that Kino's personality actually lines up fairly well with Ling's, down to being a class clown type (who ABSOLUTELY would have cut gym class!) and breaking out in song about the hypothetical woman he'd like to fight for? Yeeeeah that's right up his alley xD but there's another reason why I picked Kino...

... And that is my likely unexpected choice for Yao:

ZUKO.

ZUKO IS YAO.

YES.

I'M NOT EVEN SORRY.

(For the uninitiated, Aang, Zuko and Kino are best friends in Gladiator, very often together, and they make a really good team, so that's the extra reason why Kino became the obvious choice for Ling aside from having really similar personalities, definitely closer personalities than, say, Jet, for instance.)

People have likened Zuko to Shang a LOT since ATLA aired. This is the main reason why I'm even making this huge note! I suspect it's primarily because of the aesthetic, let's be real here, and because he becomes Aang's teacher, but people have exaggerated Zuko's alleged similarities with Shang, or taken them out of proportion, in many ways. I actually remember an AMV ages ago with "Be a Man" and it was Zuko "training the Gaang"?? It... didn't feel right to me. Obviously, someone might rebuff with "well, how does Sokka make MORE sense than that, though?" And believe it or not, I have arguments for that... (when do I not...?)

Not only is this what the commissioner specifically requested (and it obviously lines up with the ship we love!), but let's examine the actual reasons why Sokka as Shang adds up:

Sokka actually had to train a bunch of toddlers who weren't paying any attention to him. You know. Kind of how Shang had to train the unruly soldiers who weren't getting anything right. Sokka has a positive relationship with his dad (Zuko, ofc, does not). Shang also has a positive relationship with his dad! And not only this, but there's a military component to both relationships, specifically with Shang wanting to follow on his father's footsteps and aid him in the war... so much like someone else I know, who jumped at every opportunity to rejoin his father in the war, even wishing to join him as a child until Hakoda tasked him with protecting their Tribe instead (kinda like Shang is tasked with training soldiers rather than joining a battlefield).

And the final cherry-on-top that I'd loooove to hear Zuko fans try to argue against... is sexism :') didn't Sokka get characterized as a sexist guy for four episodes, which made people decide that this was his main character trait even if it went away that quickly? Um, yes, that happened. Shang literally sings the memorable song that's a crazy ode to masculinity, including the rather sexist line of "did they send me daughters when I asked for sons". Shang outright abandons Mulan once they discover that she was a woman all along (while, admittedly, choosing to abandon her rather than KILL HER, which as we saw from Chi-Fu, he was NOT supposed to spare her!)...

So, is this REALLY what Zuko fans, who willfully believe their boy is a feminist king (... why? beats me...) are trying to compare their unproblematic blorbo to? :'D Me? I have no problem linking Sokka with Shang due to Sokka's beginnings and due to the fact that both Shang and Sokka have similar growth when it comes to accepting femininity is as valid as masculinity, and as they both learn to respect women as fighters and potential heroes! (I simply do not believe Sokka's ENTIRE tenure in ATLA was about that, though, and that's what I continue to clash with the fandom over...) So... all this is why I've reasoned that Sokka is a VERY solid choice for Shang, in fact, better than Zuko could hope to be.

... but this isn't all.

Maybe some might accept my arguments for Sokka-Shang. And then, they might ask:

WHY ZUKO AS YAO, THO??

... And the truth is it took me long to see it, myself, but HOLY SHIT, DOES IT FIT!

What is the primary thing we remember about Yao in Mulan? This guy is constantly itching for a fight, to prove himself, surely riddled with insecurities that he exteriorizes through overcompensation of masculinity. He's funny as fuck, but he's taking himself 100% seriously as a manly man all the time, and he's always ready for violence. But there's one more thing...

He treats Mulan as his RIVAL.

And more often than not? SHE SCREWS HIM OVER. Intentionally or not.

What does that sound like? Why, yes, it sounds a LOT like Azula and Zuko's sibling relationship!

The fact that Yao is a temperamental dude who lashes out easily at things (oh, something he has in common with Zuko!), that he specifically resents Mulan (in this case, Azula, just as Zuko does!) and is either constantly looking to defeat her and prove his superiority over her (... wait, just as Zuko with Azula??), that he has a black eye perpetually across the movie, and it's his LEFT EYE (just as Zuko's scar is on his left eye! :'D), that he's friends with a pacifist he has basically nothing in common with, personality-wise (just like Zuko and Aang!), and that he pretty much has a REDEMPTION ARC in which he goes from a bitter, asshole rival to Mulan to treating her as a friend and ally, to the point where he was disappointed to leave her behind and THEN joined her at once when she says she has a plan? :') I have always been critical of Zuko's redemption arc, goes without saying. But if ANY of these characters redeemed himself in any significant way, it certainly seems to be Yao to me, and with people gushing NON-STOP about Zuko's redemption? Why, he ought to be the character who goes from bitter rival to loyal friend, right?

So. I'm not even sorry. Zuko is Yao. And I'd dare say that he should be flattered by the comparison, even, because Yao ends up being cool as FUCK!

I don't really talk about this much nowadays, but Mulan was my favorite Disney movie growing up, it ABSOLUTELY had a formative influence on me as a little girl, and Mulan was my favorite female character for a looooong time. Thus, any excuse to rewatch this movie makes me happy as heck. With the wisdom of age I know, of course, that it's not perfect, it's not what China wants, it's not the most thoughtful depiction of Chinese culture or the most faithful adaptation of Mulan's poem (... but I'd also dare bring up that the 2009 Chinese adaptation ISN'T all that faithful either...), but it has a kind of magic in it, a solid storytelling flow, so many memorable moments one after the next, that I could hardly choose which scenes to depict... Disney has never again seen the storytelling heights it reached with Mulan in 1998. I don't even care if that's a controversial opinion in any way... this is their best animated feature for me, and nobody can change my mind.

So... depicting Azula, my beloved, in all these scenarios as this character I adored and idolized as a child, was so damn fulfilling for me. While some might think that, personality-wise, these two ladies don't have much in common, the fact that Mulan is sent to a matchmaker who basically tells her she looks good but is going to be the worst wife ever...? Our girl Azula, with all those insecurities about being unloveable and a monster, probably would relate big time to that.

Mulan is also an INTELLIGENT soldier rather than a brawny one, which is how she starts to make progress in the army, it's how she manages to overcome the huns with that avalanche... and Azula's primary difference with most other antagonists in ATLA is that she's smart as fuck. She is very strong, no doubt, but a LOT of that strength comes from her intelligence, from assessing situations in unique ways, from planning and strategizing. The way Mulan finds the most unexpected solutions that still pay off reminds me a lot of how Azula achieves unexpected feats through rather unorthodox means, capable of taking over a city with basically no bloodshed while her nation has spent 100 years trying and failing to do so through major army incursions and who knows how much senseless violence. Obviously, I'm not saying what Azula did is GOOD and it's kind of dumb that we always have to point that out... I'm merely comparing the magnitude of the feats, and the fact that they both come from ladies who use strategy and intelligence to achieve their goals rather than muscle and physical power.

And while anyone would rage at me for the comparison between Fa Zhou (her dad) and Ozai, the truth is the dynamic between them CAN be compared, if loosely: Mulan literally goes to war to keep her father safe. Azula goes to war under her father's orders. Hell, she makes herself BAIT in the Eclipse to make sure the Gaang won't get to her dad?? While it's very much possible to say that both characters have different personalities and attitudes in life... I'd also bring up that their contexts are evidently completely different. I wouldn't say for certain that Azula, had she been raised outside a Royal Family, would be EXACTLY like Mulan... but they might have more similar traits than one might expect. Ultimately, though... I love them both. And this opportunity to swap their places was pretty much a dream come true!

Alright, that was plenty of rambling xD ultimately, I had a blast doing this commission, as I'm sure is obvious by now. So! If anyone wants to commission me, feel free to check out my prices right here and hit me up if you're interested!

[gguk-n]

Chapter 4- Breaking Down Walls

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N and Carlos realise that they love each other. They tie the knot. Everything seems to perfect to be real.

Warning- Mention of death

After the two agreed to make their families happy by getting married, the preparations were in full swing. The wedding would be a black and white tie affair in the backyard of Y/N's house. Seemed like a good idea to have it be small and intimate.

As the two of them got involved picking out colours and flowers for the wedding; they felt their bond growing closer. This was a major milestone in their life and they couldn't help but feel a connection. It wasn't just the wedding or the late night calls, they had started to confide in each other and realised that maybe this whole marriage thing wouldn't be so bad, after all. They felt like they could enjoy each other's company and be able to grow as people even though they hadn't met since that dinner.

Carlos was extremely busy with the season and the talks with Ferrari. It was taking up a lot of his time and he couldn't be there for most of the wedding planning. It was just Y/N and a couple messages to choose between this or that during the preparations. A lot of the choices had her grandmother's opinion. She would let her grandma pick what she thought would be best in places where Carlos and her couldn't decide.

Y/N had been watching Carlos's races since she found out about him. She would listen to him talk about how it went and how he could improve on it with a glint in his eyes. She felt special that she could share his love for racing even though she barely understood some of the words.

Trying to juggle a semester at home while at the same time planning a wedding during her end semester exams was proving to be a bigger challenge than Y/N had anticipated. She was trying to be on top of everything to be prepared and it was causing more migraines than necessary. She might've lashed out on Carlos a couple times over text which she did apologise for since doing everything almost alone was stressing her out.

Towards the end of the racing season, Y/N was planning on going to the last race to watch Carlos but everything got cancelled due to the increasing cases in Abu Dhabi. Carlos noticed that she looked sad during call and asked, "You look sad, what's up?" She was an open book, her expressions gave her emotions away. She wasn't lying to anyone, "I had thought I'd come to your last race of the season but I can't because of the..." she trailed off, clearly distraught with the new developments. "It's fine, you can come next year. It's not like I'll be gone" he tried to joke. "True, I could attend it as Mrs Sainz" she joked. "That is correct" Carlos smiled. He felt weird hearing her refer to herself as Mrs Sainz, but he liked that.

After the post season testing, Carlos had come to meet Y/N. He had a promise to keep; he would take her out on a date before their wedding. He was able to thankfully get a reservation at a restaurant.

With the restaurant no longer operating at full capacity, would give the pair the much needed privacy. Y/N wore a fitted midi coral dress which hit her just below her knees. Carlos was wearing his signature baby blue button down with white slacks. He looked handsome as ever. "Shall we?" Carlos asked. "yes, we shall" Y/N smiled taking Carlos's hand. Y/N's grandma could be heard calling out, "Have fun. Don't stay out to late." She felt proud of herself for at least setting her grand daughter up with a gentleman.

Carlos drove them to the restaurant. Their conversation flowed easily, they laughed along at stupid jokes they said and Carlos heard Y/N softly hum along to the songs on the radio to fill in the silence. Carlos would look over, a fond smile gracing his lips. After they reached the restaurant, Carlos opened the doors for her and pulled out her chair for her. He was going to make it her best date ever; he owed her that much.

While they waited for the dinner, "I can't believe we're going to be married in 2 weeks" Y/N mulled over her thoughts. All the preparations were done, they would have the wedding arch in the backyard and a day before the wedding; they would have a rehearsal dinner. She had skipped over the bachelorette even though her best friend wanted to throw her one. They decided to stick to a sleep over the night before. "I can't either. When we met I didn't expect to marry you" Carlos said. "Me neither. I fought my parents, more like disagreed with them" Y/N hummed. "Me too. I just didn't expect to marry so soon" Carlos stated. "Yeah, I didn't expect to be married before I graduated either" Y/N laughed. "But the world works in mysterious ways I guess" she shrugged her shoulders.

The food was great, "This is so good. I don't know why I never came here before" she told Carlos. Carlos smiled and raised his hand to wipe the food off the corner of her mouth. Y/N's eyes widened as Carlos's fingers brushed past her lips. She instinctively pulled away, apologising. "There was something there" Carlos said cleaning his finger with his tongue. Y/N watched as Carlos's finger, the same one that was on her lips moments ago touched his tongue. She quickly looked at her food, which seemed way more interesting suddenly. Her heart was beating fast, a lot faster than she had expected. Watching Carlos made her feel hot and bothered. She felt like crap for the unholy thoughts that were plaguing her mind.

Thankfully, the dinner ended without any more hiccups. And Carlos drove her back to her place. The next two weeks, Carlos's family flew in and they all enjoyed the pleasant Spring weather before the wedding and letting the to be weds to spend some much needed time together.

One of those days, Y/N's best friend, Ava came over to meet the man that would be marrying her best friend. Ava was fiercely protective of Y/N and when she found out about the arranged marriage situation, she a had a bit of a fight with Y/N's grandmother regarding Y/N's wedding. She couldn't believe she would get her grand daughter married off to some random dude. She was very close to their family since they'd been friends since middle school. Y/N tried to deescalate the fight but it only ended when Y/N dragged Ava to her room. "Grandma isn't that bad" she began. "You're saying that because she's your grandmother who is sick. I get it, I really do but an arranged marriage. I didn't think she was that old fashioned." Ava sighed. "She isn't. Plus the guy she chose is hot hot" Y/N whispered. "Show me" Ava spoke slowly, unsure of her friend. Y/N pulled out her phone and showed a picture of Carlos. "He's a F1 driver" she explained further. "Oh, he's rich rich" Ava smirked. "He'll be driving for Ferrari next year" Y/N added further. "Oh My God, he's loaded. I don't think we could've pulled him" Ava sighed, accepting defeat.

So, when she met Carlos for the first time, she played the part of the skeptical best friend well; going as far as to threaten him. Carlos only smiled, happy that Y/N was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. He promised Ava to always take care of her best friend.

The day of the rehearsal dinner came quicker than any one expected, the to be weds were dressed in pastel colours and both their families and friends were sat at the table. They went over the schedule for the next day. The weather was a lot nicer, with the sun setting on them. The atmosphere was perfect to be getting married in. As Carlos watched Y/N interact with his family, he felt it. He thought about everything; all the weird feeling he had when talking to her or thinking about her; it made him realise that maybe just maybe he liked her. Y/N couldn't say she wasn't feeling the same. She had always wanted to be with someone who meshed well with her family. She never thought it would be someone chosen by her family, but right now she saw it. She decided to finally acknowledge all the feelings she's been feeling and perhaps she liked Carlos more than she let on and spending forever with him didn't sound as bad.

After the rehearsal dinner, when everyone was dispersing; Y/N asked Carlos to speak to her in private. She wanted to tell him how she felt and how she wanted to go forward with this marriage. She didn't expect Carlos to feel the same but she felt like she wanted to lay the ground work for what the relationship she wanted to be like. "Carlos, I wanted to tell you something" she breathed in, "Go on" Carlos encouraged her. "I know we started off the way we did and I know we are getting married because of my grand mother but along the way I've realised as I spoke to you more and got to know you more that I like you. Not as a friend or someone I was forced to spend time with way but someone I see a future with. Regardless of what happens 5 years or 10 years down the line, I want you to know that I'm not marrying you because my grandmother told me, kind of true but that's beside the point, but I'm marrying you because right now, in this moment, I like you. I've liked you for a while but it was watching you with everyone today, cemented it for me" Y/N finished without a break. Carlos's lips turned up into a smile and he took her hands in his, "I realised that now too, during the rehearsal dinner that maybe spending the rest of my life with you didn't sound like a bad idea or something I was being forced to do. I like you too Y/N" Carlos replied. "Can I kiss you?" Y/N asked looking at Carlos's lips. "Yeah" Carlos breathed and Y/N stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Carlos's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N placing her hands on his cheeks, "Maybe when everything settles down we can have a big wedding with everyone" Y/N asked hopefully after pulling away from the kiss. "Maybe we can" Carlos replied.

Ava and Y/N had a fun sleepover, watching movies and pampering each other. Y/N woke up refreshed and well rested, all thanks to her best friend. The day of the wedding was as hectic as expected. Anika helped her grand daughter dress up. She was very happy zipping up the gorgeous gown Y/N had picked out and then she took the necklace off of her neck and put it on Y/N's neck. "I always thought I would give this to you. But when you said you loved it when I bought it, I knew I had to give it to you" Anika smiled and clasped the necklace. "I love it" Y/N smiled at the necklace and her reflection. "I'm happy I get to share this with you" Y/N said, hugging her grandma. "I'm happy you're happy. I never thought I'd get to see my grand daughter get married ever" Anika said wiping her tears. "You have a lot to live for. You have to attend my graduation, play with my kids. I can't wait for you to come to my graduation tho" Y/N smiled brightly. "You want this old hag at your graduation" Anika asked. "Obviously, you practically raised me. I'm here because of you. Even if my parents can't make it, I want you there" she told her grandma. "Okay" she smiled at her grand daughter.

The wedding was wonderful, they had a few generic vows written down and read them out as the ceremony progressed. It was followed by dinner where you could hear everyone talking and laughing and having a good time. The family had come together and even though it was small yet quaint; Y/N couldn't have asked for a better day. She ended the night by dancing with her grandma.

Sadly, their happiness was short lived. Because soon after the wedding, Anika's health started to decline. She hadn't been able to stomach any food. She was barely able to walk at a point. The hospital visits were erratic since they couldn't go due to COVID which meant the family tried to provide Anika with all the care that they could.

It was getting harder, day by day to provide her the care she needed and when things got really tough, they were finally able to have her admitted in a hospital. Y/N had come to visit her grandma at the hospital. People weren't allowed to come as often, so she was sat with her grandma's hand in hers, after a long time. "You'll be good as new in no time" Y/N said, tears threatening to fall. "I'm okay sweetheart, whether I live or die, I've seen everything I wanted to. I just hope you all are always happy" Anika whispered. "You still have a lot to see" Y/N crocked. "Can I speak with Carlos?" Anika asked. Y/N FaceTimed Carlos, who answered immediately. "Hello, dear" Anika spoke. "Hi grandma, how are you?" Carlos asked. "I'm okay. I just wanted to talk to you both together." she said looking at her grand daughter. "You can talk to us whenever" Carlos reassured. "I know I forced you two to get married, so I'm sorry for putting you two in a tough spot. I was selfish and I wanted to have one last happy moment" she said. "You'll have more" Y/N interrupted. Anika smiled, "I just hope you two are happy forever. I will only wish for happiness in your lives whether I'm a part of it or not" Anika breathed. out. "Thank you for bringing me Y/N. You have no idea how happy she makes me" Carlos said. "I'm glad, dear. I hope you two will take care of each other" she sighed. "Forgive this old woman for meddling in your lives. I promise, I just wanted what was good for you" she smiled weakly. Y/N soon cut the call and spent some time with her grandma before she had to leave. Her aunt would be staying over for the next few hours.

As she got home, she was informed that her grandmother wasn't doing too well and they weren't sure, she would make it. Y/N was optimistic, her grandma had been to the hospital before and returned after the treatment. But this time was different. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, Y/N was informed that her grandmother had passed away. She couldn't believe it, she didn't believe it, not for a couple hours, not until she saw it herself. She felt the world came crashing down on her, she sat there letting the words sink in as the world seemed to rush past her. Her grand mother, who had raised her, had passed away on a beautiful spring night. How was she supposed to go on?

Taglist- @herexpertcollector @redrevvedup @chaostudee @larastark3107 @jovialpainterunknown @vip-access @sugarvibez @champomiel @inarabee @virazeeee @seonghwaexile @champ15ns @ajthefujoshi @musicheaux @npcmia @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @mochipatch @gleeblegnarp @formula1-motogpfan @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @dying-inside-but-its-classy @iamfreeeeeeeeeeeesblog @boiolay @pausmoon @ts1mp0ne

[oscquinn]

MIND OVER MATTER, lip gallagher

chapter two of BORDERLINE. lip x bsf!reader (nickname: MK)

TAGS & WARNINGS → general shameless themes, smoking, swearing, karen's here and she's a bitch, lots of best friend moments <333

CHAPTER SUMMARY → the days get colder and lip remains stubborn. it's mostly due to his on again off again relationship with karen jackson, the girl who says she's pregnant with his baby. and, conveniently, the girl that hates your guts.

A/N → thank you so much for waiting on this one!!! took me a while to update because i just want every little detail to be perfect 🥹

WC → 1.7k

As autumn gave way to the icy cold of winter you found yourself staring out the window of your seventh period classroom. An old pair of wired earbuds connects both you and Lip to your school issued laptop, which the two of you were using to form your monthly shared playlist. It was a tradition you had started yourself at the beginning of this year, but Lip had wormed his way in as he seemed to do with everything else in your life, insisting he be allowed to add songs since he had to ride along with you everywhere. You’d told him it came with his lack of license, and he’d pestered you until you allowed him ten songs per playlist. 

Lip’s elbow digs into your ribs and pulls your focus away from the flurries starting to fall outside the window. “Skip this shit,” he mumbles, referencing the Taylor Swift song that just started.

You roll your eyes but skip it regardless, it didn’t fit in with your november lineup. Satisfied with the song that follows, you navigate away from the playlist, opening up your email. “I signed us up for a tour at UChi,” you say casually, eyes flicking over to gauge his reaction. He rolls his eyes and ignores you entirely, clearly annoyed with your choice. So this is still an uphill battle. Got it. “If you won’t go for yourself, at least come along for me? That way ‘m not alone.”

You watch Lip as he considers it, finally nodding his head after a moment of silence. The dismissal bell rings and your teacher gives some spiel about homework but neither of you care to listen. Like a well oiled system you return each other’s borrowed things–your pretty pack of highlighters Lip liked to use for annotation, the pencil he miraculously had when you forgot your own, the laptop which belongs to you and earbuds that belong to him–packing them up and practically racing each other out the door. You stumble through the back row as Lip dashes in front of you, pulling out a chair to leave in your path. It’s easy to laugh, easy to forget how much you’re having to push him to take his future seriously. 

By the time you catch up to him in the hall, there’s a little blonde nuisance at his side. She kisses him obnoxiously, which you think is a little much for the fact they aren’t even official. You’d never say it aloud but you’re not convinced her baby even belongs to him. Her school slut reputation hadn’t come from being a prude after all.  But of course you’re willing to play the part, to be the supportive best friend, because you knew the alternative; being painted as a jealous whore, for the simple act of looking out for your friend. Safe to say, Karen Jackson makes you seethe with rage. 

She doesn’t even offer a greeting, just looks you up and down with a disgusted glare. Lip says she doesn’t talk about you behind your back, but you think he’s just trying to save your feelings. You understand it can be hard to keep the peace between two girls who are equally important to him. Though, you wish he’d wake up from his lust induced haze to see she’s just using him. As always you play the part you’re meant to play. The best friend, ever supportive, standing quietly to the side as they have their moment. A moment that makes you sick to your stomach, but is theirs nonetheless. Not your place to intervene. 

You decide to wait in your car instead of dwelling on it.

Hours pass idly by before you’re in the Gallagher house for the night, too cold and tired to walk the twenty or so steps across the street to your own home. It wasn’t your fault Ian rolled a joint and passed it up when you were already dozing off in Lip’s bed.

When you stub out the joint, Lip tosses a pillow down to the foot of the bed. You can’t help but find it odd, the way you sleep head to foot to keep air between you as if you haven’t shared each other’s space for as long as you can remember. Lip was always wherever you were, and the same went for you. Inseparable for as long as you could remember. But then there came this… tension. The awkward energy] that came with growing up, getting crushes, going on dates. Suddenly it wasn’t normal to curl into your best friend’s side. Instead, he slept on an air mattress when he visited your house, and you occupied opposite ends of the bed at his. 

You’re not sure when the change came about. You find that you hate it. 

With nightfall comes snowfall, and when you wake from an uncomfortable strain in your back you see the soft, white flakes falling outside the window. You sit up, accidentally bumping your head in your excitement. The thud along with the pained groan from your chest wake Lip up, blue eyes blinking blearily up at you in the dim glow of the streetlight. 

“Fuck’re you doin’ MK?” he grumbles, swatting away your hand when it gently shakes his hip. “Go back t’sleep.”

“Look, ‘s snowing,” you murmur, awe painted in your tone as you lean down to turn his head towards the window. 

His next words are muffled by the pillow he shoves over his face, attempting to hide from you and your antics. “We live ‘n fuckin’ Chicago, it snows here. Not like its a miracle.”

“Come outside with me?” you ask simply. The pillow is pulled away from his face and Lip gives you a puzzled look, which you fight with a drawn out whisper of “pleeeeaseeee?”

Lip has never been able to say no to your pleading. Tonight is no exception. Within ten minutes the two of you are outside in your pajamas, fingers clad in fuzzy gloves and feet nestled into too-big snow boots. The snowfall is already slowing when Lip pulls one of his gloves off, struggling to light a cigarette against the icy wind. Without a word you step closer and shelter the light with your body until it catches the end of the cig. When he exhales you mimic the motion with frosted breath. 

Lip is still laughing at your antics when you grab his bicep, tugging his body to the ground with you. “Wha- what the fuck!?”

“Snow angels,” you reply simply, “come on, have a little whimsy, some childlike wonder.” The snow is cold against your back but you begin to move your arms and legs regardless. You tilt your head and are pleasantly surprised to see a boyish grin formed around the cig tucked neatly between his lips. He mimics your motion, arms and legs pushing snow aside until his elbows are brushing grass. 

He offers you the last drag or two from his cig, propping himself up with his elbows dug into the compressed snow where his back had been. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve made a snow angel since I was–shit–like, five or six?” He hauls himself up and uses his teeth to remove the remaining glove, his hands dipping down into the snow.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him, your teeth baring with a nervous smile as he steps closer, “Lip! Don’t you fucking-” it’s too late, there’s snow down the back of your crew neck sweatshirt. You shriek, jumping to your feet and packing a snowball of your own for revenge. It’s easy to laugh with him. To forget the troubles that plague your young hearts, subjects far too mature which were introduced at far too young of an age.

You end your little snow escapade on the steps. Lip brushes the gathering snow off the wood to give the two of you room to share a seat and a cigarette. The smoke warms your body and the comfortable silence warms your soul. You watch as he rubs his hands together, lifting them up to feel the little heat provided by the tendrils of smoke. 

When he passes it to you, you take a drag and exhale through your nose, taking both of his hands in your own. You want to scold him lightly, it’s not smart to go without gloves in the snow, but with two hands occupied you can’t exactly hold the cig anywhere other than your mouth. So you stay quiet, and so does he.

Minutes pass in familiar silence. You write your name in the snow at your feet, digging out the letters with the heel of your boot. Lip does the same with the cigarette butt when it’s finished, and you complain how unfair it is that his writing looks much neater compared to yours. He smooths out the snow over your name, rewriting ‘MK’ in the space. 

As you head inside you become aware of how wet your clothes are, the snow melting in the slightly warmer temperatures, though you notice it’s not much. Lip lends you some clothes of his and politely turns his back while you change. Not that you would’ve cared much, anyway. 

“Fuckin’ freezin’ in here Lip,” you mumble, shivering in your hoodie and borrowed boxers as you climb the ladder after him. 

He laughs in response, reaching out to tug you into the softness of his chest. “C’mere, snow miser,” he grumbles, referencing a childhood favorite movie the two of you would watch every Christmas. A smile graces your lips as you settle against his chest, his warmth more familiar than anything you’ve ever known.

Lip tells you quietly about how Frank blew his most recent disability check, leaving Fiona scrambling for the small but important number he often contributed to the heat bill. He rambles on about how each of his siblings were dealing with the cold–something about Carl convincing Debbie her frosted breath was a magical power–and you feel yourself drifting off to the gentle sound of his voice.

In the morning the sun peeks through the worn curtains of the boys’ room. Gentle rays attempt to tug you from the comfortable embrace, but your unconscious mind only snuggles further into Lip’s chest. Carl is the first to take notice of this, snickering and elbowing a distracted Ian in the ribs as he pulls on warmer clothes. The older boy eyes the two of you and grabs Lip’s phone from his desk to snap a quick picture before ushering his younger brother out of the room. 

And when Fiona heads out to head to work, there are still two names written in the snow. With careful footing, she allows them to stay.

THX 4 READING → dedicated to my lovely @notsonian. beta'd by @tinyphantomsalad.

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

So I sat down the other day and went through the crane wives albums and some other songs to assign to Ninjago characters and I've finally sat down and decided to write the post out. The content are going to be under cut because this post will certainly be too long. I'm going to go album by album here starting with Coyote Stories and ending Here I Am: From The Listening Room.

(any and all "(X)" are simply links to the songs <3)

okay, here we go!

Coyote Stories

Keep You Safe: in some ways, I like to interpret part of this song as relating to Nya's perfectionism, especially within Possession. The bridge especially and lines "What if the steps I take turn out to be mistakes? How can someone like me learn to say "come what may"?" (X)

Allies or Enemies: this is Jay and Cole to me from Rebooted to ToE. Specifically, from Cole's perspective. The song has a lot of regret and bitterness in it that I just think fits so well. The first verse and second verse ("you owe me ears from dropping eaves"), and the bridge are all so clear to me. The bridge, "what happens now? do we have another go (oh) do we bow out and take our separate roads, I'll admit I've had my doubts (oh) but I want to be let in not out (oh) I want to be let in now out", reads to me like Cole's sudden giving in and desperation in their match in ToE. (X)

Hard Sell: this one's a little loser but it reminds me of Lloyd struggles to keep himself strong and straight with everything that gets thrown at him, all the stress. To be The Green Ninja (X).

Little Soldiers: Young Garmadon and Wu, I think. It's their doomed brotherhood, the way they loved each other clearly as impulsive youth ("on the broken backs of all the words we spared, like little soldiers in the trenches, it was a march we made through ruin and despair but we held hands all the while") but ultimately Wu couldn't keep his brother. The bridge reminds me of the war. (X)

Metaphor: Harumi, obviously. There's really no debate, it's her fake mask as the Jade Princess, it's her relationship to Lloyd even. "I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors, I've gotten good at leaning on someone else's page, I cut my teeth on second hand sentiments, you can't trust a single thing I say" -> princess era. It's a sweetly bitter song, chalk full of implications of trauma. The line "but I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can't trust a single thing you say" is relevant to her relationship with Lloyd, I feel. (X)

Of Everlong: This is a lovely and very soulful song, short and sweet. It's reminiscent of Pixane, to me, specifically from Pixal's perspective. There's a certain connectiveness in being in someone's head. "and if my lover will not hear it take my voice and take my spirit leave weakened and dig my hole only my lover not I can keep my soul" vs "I do not know if there is anything after this life for beings such as you or I, but if there is, I will find you there. Goodbye my Zane." (X)

New Discovery: Fairly simple and not to deep, but this is a Misako song. Adventurer and explorer, and all (X).

The Moon Will Sing: I want to preface two things, A) this interpretation is very much looser and a little less connected t the full original meaning of the song and a little more based in reworking it to fit the characters and B) Wu haters will be stabbed by my mighty and large sword. This is Morro and Wu, on a level. "I shine only with the light you gave me", the light here i the green ninja prophecy,something Morro latched onto to prove his wroth, who is, who is to Wu. The entire song as an air of bitter grief I think fit's Morro and Wu's story. Morro could've grown up and been something more than a half baked angry ghost chasing a dream from 40 years ago, but he wasn't, "I could've been anyone, anyone." (X) (X) (<- an extra link to the demo of the song!! I find it rather lovely)

(Extra note on The Moon Will Sing, I could also see this being a song about Zane/The Ice Emperor and Vex.)

Rockslide: this is about to be very unsurprising, I associate this with Cole! There's obviously the title but generally I think the energy of the song is very Cole-like, in the fun sense. There's also the lines about feeling the "quakin honey I feel it deep" which is rather self explanatory. (X)

The Hand That Feeds: I'm shaky on this one simply because I don't remember or know her character very well, but Akita. Has a lot of mention of wolves and is a very angry song against systemic oppression (though, in the song it's anti-capitalism lol). (X)

Sleeping Giants: another Cole song, mostly based on the presence of mountains, and the 'calling' aspect of the song. I also tend to associate songs with strong drums like in this with Cole (like Drumming Song by Florence and the machine) (X).

Never Love An Anchor: I've seen this song go around actually, mostly with Misako. Which, I agree with! However, I consider it a dual song with her and Garmadon. Specifically, their season one selves. It's Misako leaving Lloyd at that boarding school, it's Garmadon being so absent even though he so clearly loves his son (and despite his evilness, he doesn't seem to wish Lloyd to follow in his footsteps). The first verse really resonates with me as being Misako, clumsy hands and trying her best, and all. The last verse however, is Garmadon ("I am selfish I am broken I am cruel") and so is the line "With this heart of mine that's guilty not remorseful." If you haven't heard this song, I truly, truly recommend it, it's gut wrenching imo. (X)

Okay! We've reached the end of Coyote Stories. That's 11/12 songs out of the albums, the best ratio we have on this listing I believe. Moving onto Foxlore now!

Foxlore:

Nothing At All: when I was looking at this song, trying to decide who to apply it to, I ended up getting kind of emotional. It's Zane, post Ice Emperor specifically. In his self-dehumanization. I'm just going to list out the lyrics that made me incredibly sad lol. "Happy is the man who wants for nothing happy is the lair happiness itself is desire", "heart broken men long to feel nothing to free themselves from strife handle pain, pain doesn't define a man it sure lends an hand getting measured in the sweeter parts of life". (X)

Down The River: Lloyd, post Garmadon revival and Crystallized. All his bitter feeling towards his father, and the angry abandonment issues. The first verse ("I've been wishig that you'd prove me wrong, that you'd come clean and rue the damage done, restore my faith in you, but you've got no reaosn to") and fifth ("Now, tell me, when you start again where will you house your skeletons? Or will they stay behind? Your settlement in kind?") especially. (X)

Can't Go Back: Zane, post Ice Emperor, again. It's that guilt man, I don't really have more to explain but know it makes me Sad. (X)

Turn Out The Lights: Jay, this is mostly about an anxiety head-canon lol, considering the song is about a racing mind. (X)

Ribs: this song is so Nya it hurts. It pretty strongly connects to her arc over the seasons about self independence, identity, and misogyny. It's her finding her place as who she is, and taking back things as her own ("It is mine, it is mine). Verse three I like to connect to her element being of Wojira's and how that is so symbolic of her place in the team (and why she reflect Morro so well in a lot of ways but I won't get into that), "time has changed the metaphor, now, dust is not the orgin of bone, little girl don't let them sell you any armor all your ribs are still your own". There's also the main chorus, which, god I got sad when I looked at it from the angle of Seabound. "The dark doesn't frighten me I chose to close my eyes, it is mine, it is mine, the night doesn't frighten me I chose to let it thrive, it is mine, it is mine." (X)

Not The Ghost: perhaps a little literal but, Cole in his Day Of The Departed era. Though, it connects to his feelings at the time more than his literal ghost-hood. It pretty strongly captures the depression, low self esteem, and growing urgency (around the Latter half of the song). You could also read some of the lyrics as paralleling the events of DOTD itself. (X)

And that's it for Foxlore, that is...6/10 I think, so not the worst either. Fun fact, this next section is my favorite album as a whole :)!

The Fool In Her Wedding Gown:

Icarus: now who else would this be about if not the doomed siblings of the series? Of course it's Wu and Garmadon. I think of this pretty strongly as paralleling their 'adventures' as young children, and then the war. "Oh my brother, oh my brother, oh my brother, who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here", yeah. The entire energy of the song has that weird sad, yet hopeful regret Wu seems to carry around with him in regards to Garmadon, it's a very loving song. (X)

Fangs: Nya, the entire song carries the desperate anger she has, the longing for independence and strength. It's bitter too, in a way that reminds me of her from Rebooted to Skybound. "I am not your highness, a damsel left helpless by fright, I am a lioness, fierce as I walk through the night", "a man will never know his bride"...and well, she was a bride once, wasn't she? (X)

That's it for TFIHWG actually, I know, sad sad ratio but I am also not suprised because a lot of the songs on this album are rather specific.

Safe Ship, Harbored:

New Colors: this one is really simple, Lloyd, and only because it reminds me about how consistently stressed he is lol. (X)

The Crooked, The Cradle: This is a Morro song, to me. The idea of were you doomed from the start (the cradle), or was this purely because of the choices you made? The line "can anyone hear me? The crooked are smiling, they know me the best" strongly reminds me of him and the Preeminent. (X)

(Additionally, this came to me as i was writing this section but I could also see this song being Garmadon coded.)

Caleb Trask: Oni Lloyd! The entire song is about the concept of having 'bad in your blood' and how you simply have to embrace it. That you cannot let it chain you, that love will bring you back. Reminds me of him. (X)

I Ain't Done: if you look at this from a purely conceptual level and energy wise, this song is very Morro. It's got his vengeful, jealous and vicious return from the dead to wreck havoc vibes lol, the lyrics in a literaly sense, however, do not fit. (X)

We're nearing the end now! kind of! 4/12 ratio.

Here I Am: Live From The Listening Room:

High Horse: Jaya, actually. From Rebooted to Skybound, from Nya's pov. Mostly, I connect it to that weird, unhealthy desperation Jay had for Nya and Nya's desire to be free of it, her own self. "You're a sweet heart, you're a curse, you're a passing grade on a low, low bar, you've got your eyes open, I know your worth, but I've got so many things in my hungry, hungry heart", sums it up pretty well. (X)

Here I Am: This one's Cole, but it's a bit of a mixture on why. First up, it's again DOTD era Cole with all his being forgotten angst and anxiety. Secondly, and maybe more painfully, it really reminds me of his and Lou's relationship early on. Neglected child core, and all that ("I promised myself I'd learn to be the one who leaves, with no more roots to tie me down, it's just a different kind of lonely"). The last verse is strongly reminiscent of his pure stubbornness, too. (X)

Queen Of Nothing: Solidly Harumi, a lot on vibes and mood. It's got a dark, sort of unsatisfied sound to it. The chorus screams her , "Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out, just finish what you started, queen of nothing wearing such a heavy crown." (X)

Sowing Seeds: this one's a bit more general, it reminds me of Possession, the season. It's also a very moody song, having a tired, haunted sort of energy. It also fits nicely into the theme of consequences in Possession. The first verse ("still as a lake long after the wind is gone, in the face of a thief mashing ground to mud, still as a street long after the work is done, as he gnashes his teeth, as he cuts it up, cuts it up") heavily reminds me of Morro. (X)

Hollow Moon: fairly simple, Hollow Moon reminds me of Cole's fear on DOTD. It's got that spooky and paranoid sort of energy. (X)

The Wolf: this both a Harumi and Morro, bearing that bitter, self destructive energy. (X)

Now, that concludes all the albums thus far, and I know I sad we'd leave off on HIA:LFTLR, however, I am a lair. There's a couple songs that aren't on albums that's be a shame not to mention.

Margaret: this is Misako, in her loss of her husband, and her trails to find a way to fix things. "She's breaking her knuckles on truths that keep her awake, and she's tired but her jaw is set, she won't lose any more of the heart she still has left, so she says a prayer pulls the covers near and waits, Margaret won't sleep tonight." Lovely song. (X)

Scars: this is a newly released song! I believe it connects back to Never Love An Anchor, and as such, it fits Lloyd very well. Specifically in relation to Garmadon, post revival. It so so fits all that anger in him at his dad ("cause I was born with a whole in my heart, yeah, we were fucked from the start, tell me it's inevitable I'd end up with scars from falling down, down, we were always meant to fall apart"). (X) (X) (<- the second is a live audio recording that is personally my favorite!)

Okay, no we're done! Anyways, if you read all the way down here I hope any of this made sense. This is a little bit of a love letter to The Crane Wives and Ninjago, I spent hours doing this lol. If you haven't heard any or some of these songs, please do listen to them!! Every song mentioned should have an accompanying link. Anyways, time to end this stupidly long post, please share if you have any thoughts or connect songs differently!!!!!!!!

[hwnglx]

hyunjin's real personality behind the scenes reread

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

felt drawn to update a few of my past readings. enjoy ⏦ﾟ♡︎

shuffled songs: tv by billie eilish where's my love by SYML

+ hyunjin is an immensely hard-working individual. it comes to him naturally. he doesn't read as someone who does any of his work half-heartedly, and puts a lot of effort into his craft.

he's very disciplined and consistent in his commitment to bettering himself continuously. he isn't someone who will remain still once he's reached a certain step in his journey of self-improvement, but always looks to continue climbing.

he has a great eye for detail. not the type to settle with things being okay.. they usually need to be perfect. down to the most trivial components, others might easily overlook. he just sees things in their entirety. very observant, almost hawk-eyed.

i also see hyunjin being a person who's quite likeable. someone you can have a fun time with. he gives me very friendly and pleasant energy, that makes it easy for people to feel comfortable and open around him.

he's good at being sociable, when the situation asks for it. i see him having learnt how to keep his personal boundaries in tact, protecting his privacy, while slipping into the role of the social butterfly, if he needs to.

emphasis on “role” here.. the connections he cultivates feel more superficial than intimate. i don't think he's really the type to allow direct insight into his true soul for many people, but moreso keep them at an arm's length; make them feel like they're close, when they're really not.

he's excellent at empathising though, and can often find himself naturally in tune with other people's emotions. this can make him an individual who's comfortable to be around, due to him intuitively matching himself to the person he's with.

he reads as the type of person who can get very animated, and visibly excited once something sparks his interest. there's a youthful, almost childlike energy in hyunjin, where even the more simple things can feel special and fascinating. that kind of enthusiasm can be contagious; it can really lift the mood of those around him.

i see hyunjin truly blossoming when he gets to express his passionate and creative side. he has a natural appreciation for the beautiful things in life.

there's something very genuine in how eager he is to express himself through his art. it seems tied to his deeper desire to understand himself, and his place in the world. to seek meaning behind the cards he's been dealt. i keep sensing him asking.. “why..? what for..?”

hyunjin is a man of deep and sincere emotion, who experiences life in a deeply impactful manner; so, having a space to channel all those strong feelings, especially through creative outlets, it can be very healing to him.

to me, it feels like.. “even if i can't understand it, i'll just turn it into art.” i keep seeing him paint in my minds eye, and it feels like he's releasing all the chaos inside of him, as the brush moves across the canvas. it helps him find some sort of meaning, some sort of.. beauty? in everything he feels. otherwise the emotional weight can easily crash him. he has a core that's much more fragile than it might seem.

it doesn't have to be drawings, this can also show itself through his love for music. it's that familiar feeling, when a song speaks straight from your soul, perhaps revealing what you didn't even know you were feeling. hyunjin can be someone who experiences healing through feeling understood. feeling like the strength of his emotions isn't ridiculous, or his feelings aren't useless.

i got the child divine, and poet as his archetype, which fits beautifully with what i've just described.

the child divine shows itself through that wide-eyed spirit. the way he can find joy in the seemingly mundane. the way his heart stays open to life, even if it's quietly guarded.

the poet knows how to turn feeling into form. this archetype reflects how naturally hyunjin channels emotion into art. how creation becomes a form of survival. his words, movements, brushstrokes, they're rarely hollow. they come from the core of his being. from the places he doesn't always have words for.

worthy to note, that while channeling his energy, it feels remarkably difficult for me to put what i feel into words. there's a lot going on, like so much i wish to say, but i keep struggling to let it out? i also keep wanting to revise my wording. like it's never good enough, damn lol.

this is something i've observed whenever i read for people with virgo energy, especially moons.

it's almost like that virgo moon is nagging inside of you all the time, telling you to pull yourself together, to not be dramatic, to get a grip on your emotions. it gives you this innate desire to restrain yourself. hyunjin can feel like that, especially due to all the pisces in him obviously clashing with that.

he seems to carry two essential sides with him; for one, the more naive and impressionable side, that finds excitement in the most simple sources. he can often independently act on a whim, due to unexpected sparks of passion, which he can feel very strongly about.

then there's a more serious, grounded, and mature side. one that i believe is likely to come out most in his work. a side that's focused, composed, and practical.

i see the combination of those two sides making him the kind of artist who not only has the creativity, imagination, and passion. but also the ambition, discipline, and work ethic to turn those visions into reality.

- hyunjin is someone very reserved, though that may not always be obvious on the surface. he guards himself, and his soul, very intelligently. the difficulty he can have in understanding and fully accepting himself, often shows up as a hesitancy to open up to others. especially without the fear of being judged for it.

he can experience this dilemma between seeking connections in order to fill parts of himself he feels like might remain vacant for ages, if he stays on his own, while also dreading connections, that expose his heart too deeply.

this can express itself in this back and forth reaction, where he might pull you in, but push you back soon later. it could also be the reason why many of his connections usually seem to remain more surface-level. intimacy is a scary thing for him. yet he needs and craves it at the same time.

“he's yearning for something that isn't really there.” this is a sentence that kept sticking with me for this part.

i sense hyunjin having the habit of living in a constant state of nostalgia. a tendency to live partly in the past, or in imagined futures. it’s not always rooted in reality. especially when it comes to emotional connections, he can put people on pedestals, idealizing them to the point that disappointment becomes inevitable.

he can also grow attached to whatever makes him feel momentarily seen, soothed or fulfilled, even if it's not healthy.

he can be on a constant search for something that fills the empty spot in his heart, and it can feel like an endless hunt.

this can cause him to be quite reckless and impulsive, in a way where he just acts on whatever causes a spark in him. this approach can look selfish on the outside.

it can result in hyunjin essentially “using” people in order to get what he thinks he needs, and leave them behind if he feels like they aren't doing it for him anymore.. which as i said, is a very likely scenario for him.

he can experience many situations where he looks back on his compulsive behavior, and perhaps kick himself in the behind for it. hyunjin does seem to struggle genuinely understanding what it is he actually wants and needs in life, which can cause him to just act out and live in the moment.

he can isolate himself when he needs space to introspect, to quiet the noise inside. but that solitude, though necessary, can leave him feeling lonely. like “i'm alone, again.” when the party's over by billie eilish started playing in my head. (he really seems to like her music)

his energy is incredibly gloomy. it's like this continuous grey raincloud, hovering on top of your head.. there's also an inner restlessness, like you're constantly looking out to somehow explain what it is that you're feeling, why it is that you're feeling this way. and desperately trying to let it out, so this inner darkness doesn't consume you.

i can also sense a lot of unresolved and unchannelled anger in him, which has the potential to be let out at the wrong times, or aimed at the wrong people.

[riptides-n-roses]

Changes was so good!! I love how you said you didn’t want to make your page just smut bc tbh I love reading Roman fics on here but they’re mostly smut and I really want some sweet fluff 🥹looking forward to reading your future work

Ask and you shall receive! I love writing smut don't get me wrong but I honestly believe that connecting with said character should be taken more into light!

just us - roman reigns

⛧pair: roman reigns x reader

⛧ tags: @88changemymind @reigns-prophecy @cyberdejos2 [huge thank you to anon]

⛧ no warnings! fluff only and a very passionate roman ♡

⛧ hi again! as I said in the beginning , I'm still testing out what I like and don't like to write about. And I enjoy writing smut don't get me wrong (huge thank you to everyone showing love to all of my ffs on here it means a whole lot) but I would love to write more fluff (especially if it's roman because he's so fine 😫) - again short because this is an imagine.

⛧ after a stressful day, roman decided you needed some relief.

⛧ word count: 526

Your head was aching from staring at your screen all day. You had many things to check off of your weekly schedule and didn't want to see anything else relating to it or else you were gonna throw a fit.

Your partner, Roman, took notice of your behavior. He observed carefully as to how you dealt with your weeks and whatever errands needed done. He hated that you were stressed and didn't go out.

He decided that you shouldn't be too worked up on errands and wanted you to relax. Roman decided to take a day off from wrestling and give you a day to remember.

You were at your desk, rubbing your temples as you finished some work for your job. He slowly approached you, making sure not to scare you.

"Hey, babygirl" He started, gently massaging your shoulders "Busy day?"

"Yeah..." you muttered "I feel like I can't even take a few minutes to wind down sometimes."

"That's the problem, y/n. You're not allowing yourself to rest, and that's not healthy."

You went a little silent from his words, realizing that he was right. You couldn't remember the last time you took time to take care of your mental state.

"How about you and I go out? I'll treat you to anything you want." He offered.

You turned around from your chair to see your partner, patiently waiting for your answer. You smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"That sounds amazing, actually."

"Good. Pick out something cute to wear. I've made a reservation for dinner."

.•°☆.⋆｡⋆☆•˚｡⋆｡˚•☆˚｡⋆.☆•°.⋆

Roman couldn't keep his eyes off you the entire date: You were happily chatting with him about everything recent you've took interest in while the both of you ate dinner. You talked about your recent change in music taste and new hobbies that you've tried. Roman couldn't help but admire how you felt like yourself and he kept smiling the entire time.

"I'm glad I made the right decision." He thought to himself, "I really wanted y/n to take time to relax and be herself."

After dinner, the both of you went sightseeing, admiring the city lights and various buildings. He treated you to ice cream, slow dancing, and whatever you needed for self care.

He happily listened to you singing to your favorite songs, dancing to whatever caught your attention, and you laughing at whatever you found funny on your phone. Your laughter was his favorite to listen to.

When you returned home, the both of you went up to your shared room, deciding to end the night with a good movie to watch.

"Wow! Today was amazing. Thank you so much, baby!" You exclaimed, hugging Roman and giving him a kiss.

"It's no problem, babygirl. You deserve to have some time like this." He smiled, kissing your lips softly.

As the movie played throughout, Roman couldn't help but notice you weren't saying anything. Concerned, he turned to find you sound asleep, exhausted from today.

He giggled and gently placed a blanket over you, keeping you warm. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"I love you, babygirl. Sweet dreams."

[changisworld]

Hii, I've got a request in mind, thinking about Hannie but ain't not sure if it fits Seungmin too (that "honey can you bring my towel" scene he acted at that tv show lives rent free in my mind), so it's a first time thing + shy reader + he puts her hand on his hard on (Idk I feel like they give such a sneaky vibe, in a moment you're laughing with him and the next you're underneath him). Steamy make out, dry humping, handjob, whatever you feel more fitting, just pls don't let poor bb with them blue balls 👀

Little note: can I be 🍦 anon? ❤

MY BABY 🍦im so sorry its taken almost 3 months to write this:( better late than never though! i hope it was semi worth the wait<3

i had no idea what you were referring to so i had to go on tiktok n find it n i THINK i know what youre talking about!

Word count;2,760

18+, MDNI SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here.

SMUT WARNINGS: PIV, whiny hannie, handjob, fingering(f rec), spit, creampie, dry humping, teasing, hannie & y/n are both subby?, slightly nervous hannie, tit play, slight mommy kink

You're currently sitting on your new boyfriend, Han jisungs bed while he showers in his small bathroom connecting to his bedroom & you're just scrolling through tiktok as he belts out whatever song that's playing from his phone without a care in the world.

You've been dating Jisung for around 3 months but you both have agreed that you can both see it going long term, much to both of your happiness!

You've warmed up to Jisung a whole bunch, being a whole lot more shy before meeting him & he was just as much as a nervous person as you are, but you've both brought out the best in one another. But, because you're both a bit more reserved, you've been a bit too scared to make the first move. You've kissed countless times & he has slipped a finger in once or twice, but nothing else past that, him not wanting to push any more boundaries.

You're just watching some of those true crime tiktoks, sprawled out on top of the messy, unmade bedsheets, not realising the shower had turned off until you hearing Jisung kissing his own teeth & groaning.

"Y/nnie? Can you go into my closet n gimme a towel, I've forgotten mine!" Han yells through the door, dragging out the last syllable & you just hum in response before dragging yourself to where he stores his clothes, towels & blankets & grabbing the first one you see.

"Open the door then Sungie!" you cheer, fingers fidgeting with the material. Jisung slowly opens the door & pokes his head out, not wanting to show anything non PG, he pinches the towel out of your hand but doesn't bother to fully close the door over again as he tries to tie it around his waist before awkwardly chuckling.

"Y/nnie, uh, I usually just.. air dry? after showering & I genuinely have no idea how to tie it like how girls do! If you... don't mind could you tie it for me? Or you can just bring me some sweatpants n I can change in here!" He splurges out, almost being able to hear his heartbeat through the door separating you both.

"You'll just stay damp in there since the steam is hitting me in the face, yeah I can.. I can tie it for you." you reply, trying to sound confident. You give him the time to hold the towel around him & you slowly push open the door, the smell of the shampoo & body wash he used still strong in the air.

You give him a smile & a small giggle, which he gladly mirrors & you take the top part of the towel & tightening it before tucking it in, making it stay put without the need to hold it with his hands anymore.

As you do this though, you realise the towel is a bit of an odd size, it being a bit small despite it being wrapped around his tiny waist, showing off his growing bulge through the tight DIY now skirt he is wearing & you can't help but blush.

"Oi! Don't look! I said I don't use towels I didn't realise they're a horrible size!" as he covers the growing tent under the towel, his chubby cheeks going red as his big eyes look at you & you just laugh but your eyes can't stop trailing down to his now fidgeting hands.

"You're so dramatic Sungie, It's hot in a way, you're so unaware it's funny." You giggle, your fingers pinching his cheeks & he blushes even more before his hands move from where they were perched to swat your fingers away, but as he does so, his towel of course begins to slip & you both realise at the same time, your hands & his hands racing to stop it from falling.

Your hands reach the towel first & you grab it & his hands cup over yours & you both realise instantly, you're cupping over his now even more hardening cock, his own hands keeping you there.

You both look up at your hands at the same time then back up at each other, both of your eyes wide open. He quickly removes his hands from yours, but to both of your surprise, you don't move your hands away.

"Y/nnie, you gonna move your hands or what?" he questions, his voice full of shock. You snap back into reality when he says this & your hands whip away from him, holding them up to your chest.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know you wouldn't lik-" you rush out. "hey hey hey! I didn't not like it, I liked it as much as any other guy would! I just didn't think you would be so bold or ballsy I guess?!" he cuts you off, using one hand to hold the towel around his waist as he is waving the other hand around, trying to get his point across.

You blush at what he says & you pause for a moment, but when you can't really think of a verbal response, you give a physical one instead, & you move your hand to lightly cup him again which makes his hips twitch as he looks at you, his jaw slightly open.

You move your hand slightly, getting a bit of a better feel & he instantly gets harder under your touch & he stutters & you just giggle again at him, looking at his features, watching for the reaction he's giving.

"Is this alright, Sungie?" you ask as you take the extra mini step & lean in to his neck & give it a quick peck before looking into his eyes, smiling at his pretty face. "Y-yeah, can we not do this in the bathroom though? ruins the mood, unless you wanna get back in the shower with me?" he jokes, trying to sound confident despite him absolutely freaking out inside.

You nod your head & take his hand & you both walk back into the bedroom & you straddle him once the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, him flopping down. "Can I.. remove this? We don't need to though, Hannie." you murmur out, cupping his cheeks.

"Mhmm, please, please please." he pleads before he pushes on the back of your head & he kisses you, his tongue not taking long to begin poking into your own. At the same time, you raise your hips just enough so you can paw the towel away, now leaving him bare beneath you, which makes you think your heart is going to come out of your mouth.

You slowly grind over his cock with your covered core in a slow motion as you deepen the kiss, Jisung letting out a small groan at the contact & his hips buck up when you allow a shaky hand to wrap around his already somehow leaky cock & you begin jerking it at a good pace, his lips involuntarily breaking away from yours for a second, drool completely coating his lips & chin by this point.

"This okay f'you?" you tease, his reactions already giving away the fact that it's more than okay, he just lets out another small whine before moving his head up enough to kiss you again, his hips bucking up into your hand & his precum coating parts of your hand, his tip completely shiny.

You grind down on his upper thighs as you jerk him off, your own little pants swapping between your lips as you get a bit, but no way near enough friction for you to fully get off on.

Hans breathing begins to speed up & become slightly erratic & he moves his fingers from the back of your hair & he rests them on your hips, helping you grind, but not long after, he is fiddling with the waistband & you take the hint, you break your lips from his & take the few seconds to wiggle off your pants, leaving you in your plain cotton panties & Jisungs shirt you stole.

Hi big boba eyes, completely blown out, stare up at you in awe & he sits up, his face level with your covered tits. "Can I take this off too, y/nnie?" he asks & the second you give the okay, he gets rid of it before you have the time to blink, letting out a strained grunt at the fact you aren't wearing a bra.

Once you're left in just your underwear, Jisung flips you over so he is between your legs, leaning over you & he basically has his eyes glued to your now pebbled nipples & he has to bite his lip to avoid drooling all over them & you giggle at his reaction, your cheeks going red with a mix of nerves, slight embarrassment from his eyes burning into you & also love.

Jisung makes his way down slightly so he is level with your chest & he simply admires your tits as his left hand now rests on your inner thigh, thumb caressing it.

"Can I touch you, jagi? We don't need to go any further." he asks for reassurance. "Hannie, stop asking, I'm dying for it, please." you respond, your hips jerking up to convince him. He blushes more than he already is & he lets his fingers trail onto your covered core as he runs his finger up & down your slit, making you bite your lip, trying to not moan too loudly.

"Don't silence yourself jagi, don't be nervous, it's just me." he says in a sweet tone as his fingers move your underwear to the side, happy with himself with the wet spot he caused on the fabric.

His fingers begin spreading your wetness on your slit, making sure to prolong an extra few seconds of attention on your clit before he enters one finger into your dripping hole, a small squelch noise being made from it & your back slightly arching off the bed, Jisung not being able to hold back the smirk now spreading across his lips as he lets his lips latch onto your nipple.

"O-oh shit! Sungie, right there." you whimper, your fingers weaving into his hair as you spread your legs a bit more & wiggling your hips, trying to get his finger impossibly deeper.

He decides to add a second finger as he finds your G-spot & your breath hitches in your throat & your eyes scrunch shut, pulling his hair, him moaning into your tit along with you.

You feel your orgasm beginning to build up as you can both feel yourself clenching around his now two fingers. "Sungie, lie down, wanna cum with you." you whimper, trying your hardest to concentrate enough to speak an actual sentence.

Jisung unlatches himself from your tit & pulls his now soaked fingers out of your cunt, much to his displeasure. He crawls his way to the top of the bed & rests his head on the pillows & you are quick to follow behind him, straddling him again before leaning down to kiss him.

"Can I put it inside? Wanna feel you." He pleads, glossy eyes looking up at you as his hands are resting on your waist. "What's the magic word?" you decide to tease, your fingers reaching down to fondle his balls, making his eyebrows furrow & another bead of precum dripping down his cock.

"Pleaseee, mommy please, please let me." he begs, not being able to stop his ears going bright red as his fingers move their way to your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands as his hips keep buck up into you.

You are caught slightly by surprise by the 'mommy' part of the sentence, but you also know it's exactly something he & now also you're into.

You decide to not let him wait any longer as you're also itching for him to fill you up, your wetness leaving a small slick patch of where you were straddling as you raise your hips & Jisung grabs his pretty dick & runs it over your folds, making you jolt, before aligning himself up with your hole & you begin to slide him inside.

You sink down until you can't anymore & you both hiss at the feeling, him already resting against your spongey spot & the warmth of you wrapped around him making his mind spill.

You raise your hips slightly & then sink back down, setting a slow but pleasurable pace as small moans begin escaping your lips, jisungs eyes completely stuck to you, simply admiring you.

Drool escapes his lips & dribbles down the side of his cheek, his tongue poking out his jaw dropped mouth ever so often as you both share moans.

"Yo-you're so tight jagi, mind is n-oh m, fuck." Jisung babbles, his hands helping your thrusts by moving your ass up & down as his hips jerk up to also meet you in the middle, making you squeal.

You place your hands on his shoulders as you begin to quicken your pace, trying your best to ignore the stinging pain in your thighs as you do so.

Jisung sits himself up against the headboard, making sure to not slip out of you as he settle you both in the similar but different position. You begin grinding on his cock & slowly bouncing as Jisung reaches to begin suckling on your nipple again as his fingers begin to fondle your other tit, making you moan.

"Y-you're filling me so well, Sungie" you whimper as your motions find the best spot where his cock can reach & picking up your speed.

Jisung lets out a loud 'uumph' as his tip hits into your soft spot, making your belly go hot inside, but he can feel your speed slowing. Jisung unlatches from your now spit covered nipple & blows some cold air on it before he repositions you both, helping you lay on your stomach & you lift your hips so your ass is in the air for him, which makes him groan.

"Sungie, put it back in, wanna make you cum." you implore, wiggling your ass in front of him to convince him, which works as he swallows a choked moan before lining himself back up with your sopping cunt & sliding back in.

You both let out a moan in unison as Jisung begins to pick up his pace, trying his best to not throw his head back from the new position & angle, looking down at the way your ass ripples every time his hips hit against it & he can feel his orgasm building up instantly.

You both keep babbling, mostly to yourselves, his pace just right so you can't stop clenching, your knuckles turning white from gripping the bedsheets, your cheek pressed against the bed.

"S-sung- I'm gonna c-cum." you yelp, eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jisungs cock got a white ring against the base of his cock, being able to quite literally hear the wetness coming from between your legs.

"S-me too, clenching t-too much, w-wher-" "Inside, inside Hannie." you are quick to cut him off, rushing the words out just in time before your orgasm bubbles over, your legs getting weak & if it wasn't for Jisung holding onto your hips. As soon as your cunt begins to spasm around him, his own release hits him & his cum paints the inside of your walls white, basically squealing as the pleasure washes over him, his bottom lip all puffy from how much he has been biting it.

He pulls out & slowly helps you lay down fully on your stomach before he lets himself flop down too, straddling your ass & his face level with yours.

You both stay like this, him turning his head slightly to kiss your earlobe, his fingers moving the hair out of your face.

"You wanna get back in the shower then?" you murmur, getting your breath back, chuckling.

"I wouldn't mind that, we are sticking to each other, but I wouldn't mind staying like this." he hums back, smiling to mostly himself as he shuts his eyes, inhaling the smell of your skin, your perfume still a bit faint on your skin after all this time.

"n a mommy kink, Sungie? Who woulda thought." you tease, giggling. "Hey! if you liked it then who cares, its hot." he replies, him trying to hide the slight fluster in his voice.

->Anon list is open!

->Taglist is open!

[thehypnone]

absolution live 2017/2023

here I am with my over 1,5k word autistic ramble about the differences between absolution live from 2017 and 2023. at the end there is an audio file of both versions put together, if anyone would be interested in that. it sound very cool heh

also tags for people who showed interest in this: @forest-rot @ghuleh-recs @counting-eyerolls @ngnt-writes @ghnosis @rain-ghoul-appreciator @sister-rosemary-marie

anyway, under the cut

I will start with an analysis of instruments and players separately, one by one, and then I’ll talk about the whole thing a little bit. Also I’m using only ghoul names in there, but when I’m talking about styles and skills I obviously mean the unmasked folks.

Both in 2017 and 2023 we have Mountain on drums, which gives us a very fun comparison opportunity. In 2017 he goes heavy on the cymbals—according to the original version of the song—but it makes the whole thing a bit too crashy and too clogged. The drums are very widely mixed and set—slightly focused on the left side following the stage layout from then—but I think the cymbals could be a bit quieter in comparison to the actual drums, especially the floor tom. In general we can hear how smaller Mountain’s kit was in 2017. In 2023 the entire drum part is sharper and deeper, more bassy and it’s focused more in the middle. The way it feels to me, in 2017 the drums are the background and in 2023 they are the core. Mountain has better fills in 2023, he obviously got more comfortable just jamming in there and having fun over the years.

Dewdrop on bass in 2017; we can hear (or at least I can) that he is not a bassist. He scrapes his pick on the strings a lot which is connected to him being primarily a guitarist—it’s about the picking hand placement and angle. The bass is pretty quiet and it has overdrive on it. It helps conceal his buzzing a little bit, because it happens a fair amount for Dewdrop. Again—bass is not his main instrument. We can also hear exactly when he slams it, like we know he loves doing. In general sometimes he’s quieter and sometimes he’s louder and it’s mostly caused by his picking; how he angles his hand in certain moments and how much strength he puts into it. At the end he goes absolutely feral. Not surprising.

Rain in 2023 is amazing. He’s very skilled, and it’s a huge shame Ghost doesn’t have any songs that could really allow him to show off. He hit his cue a bit too fast at one point, but it might as well be intentional. He’s so much clearer and cleaner, both due to his skills and the settings. Rain has more drop, he most likely has his bass on a different pickup setup than Dewdrop, plus they used different basses—Rain’s with additional mods. One of those mods is a very heavy bridge—Badass Bass—and I bet we can thank that piece for the sustain and note definition in Rain’s playing. In general it flows more, fits into the whole image better. His changes in volume are controlled, not accidental like it happens for Dewdrop. Rain puts more slides, tiny additions and note changes into his live playing, it makes it a bit more lively to me. He’s put perfectly in the middle, nicely blended with the drums.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about Ifrit, Dewdrop, Aether and Phantom mainly because “Absolution” isn’t really a guitar focused song and so it isn't the best song to compare guitar skills, either. The most interesting part—guitar wise—is the solo and little fills on the rhythm now and then.

Ifrit is very precise, I couldn’t hear any mistakes from him, but also the lead is surprisingly quiet in general. His palm muting is on spot, pull-offs and hammer-ons both in the chorus and the solo are very clean and he is simply a pro, he’s got super skills and I wish we could’ve gotten more (</3). He makes the whole song as lively as his stage personality, it sounds flowy but packed with emotions and still so precise it hurts.

Dewdrop’s sound is way better, though he and Ifrit are close skill wise. The difference between Hagstrom Fantomen and Fender Stratocaster is a big one, the main aspect that we can hear is the sharpness of the former and more grounded sound of the latter. Those two guitars also have a very different pickup arrangements—Dew’s strat has SSS (3x single-coils) pickups and he uses the bridge one (which is a Seymour Duncan Hot Rail), and the Fantomen’s has HH (two humbuckers that can be slip, but as far as I’m aware no ghoul used that feature), also with the bridge one used more frequently. In “Absolution” Dewdrop doesn’t add very much—as he does to some other songs—so it’s pretty much the same as the original version. There are small differences that inherently come with his style and that is what makes his version differ from both Ifrit’s and the album's, but it’s all very slight. Dew also makes a very good use of his pedals, mainly wah—especially at the end.

Aether is a bit off tempo in some parts. He plays well, mostly clean, but we can pick out some slight mistakes—mostly sounds that aren’t supposed to be there. His palm muting is a bit too light. He goes heavy on the pick which makes his part of the solo a bit sharp (especially that he’s playing the higher harmony) and square-ish. The sharpness is, again, something we can partially blame on the Fantomen. Only partially because both Ifrit and Phantom prove that it’s manageable. 

Phantom is very clean, he adds a lot of slides which is a feature of his personal style. Said style of his is very lively and fun, to me it sounds and feels like a slinky (don’t laugh at me it’s the autism). He’s more fluid both in the solo and the rest of the song than Aether, but makes one—barely noticeable—mistake in the solo where he misses a note.

Also Phantom and Dewdrop in 2023 are more in sync than Aether and Ifrit in 2017. For whatever reason.

Now keyboard; Zephyr goes absolutely ham on the keys, but it is a piano song so that’s not only understandable, but also desirable, I would say. Key’s are in the right ear with slight migration to the middle when it matters, again according to the stage layout. Their precision and speed and overall skill is insane, the ending when they go wild is the most impressive part, because the song itself doesn’t give many opportunities. If you haven’t seen a video of Zephyr playing that ending you gotta do it now because it really is insane (RIP to that Nord Stage 2 though). The synth fill before the solo in 2017 is played back, in 2023 it’s played live by Cirrus.

In 2023 Cirrus plays the main chorus keyboard part, it can be heard easily on the left side (so once again stage layout accordingly). It’s clean and precise, she’s also very skilled, but unfortunately doesn’t really show off at the end like Zephyr does. Cumulus plays some chords before the solo while Cirrus plays the synth fill.

Vocals are not my thing so I’m only going to say what most of us can hear; Terzo is very nasal, but cleaner, and sings a bit higher. Clear pronunciation, good flow. It’s closest to Tobias’ normal singing voice. Copia is even more nasal, more growly and raspy. They’re both, obviously, in the middle in case of mixing.

Backing vocals in 2017 are all play-back for obvious reasons—pretty simple, taken straight off of the album recording. It’s put on the left, but it could be more favorable in the middle. 2023 is way more spectacular thanks to—mainly—the backing vocals. They are 90% Aurora and Cumulus, with lower levels of Cirrus and barely anything of Swiss. He’s louder by the end. I’m still conflicted about the growls—if it is Swiss or Papa’s play-back—but it’s a great addition that was very mild in 2017’s play-back. The backing vocals are on the sides, accordingly to the stage layout. It all just adds more spice, I adore them.

Sound engineering and mixing is so much better in 2023. We can easily tie it to the budget (though I’d like to “blame” it on Hayden’s part in the engineering, he’s a mastermind, too). The sound is much clearer and fluid than in 2017, it highlights all the instruments perfectly at the same time. Mixing in 2017 is more blunt, it’s a bit duller and some changes in volumes and placements of instruments could—or even should—be made. It doesn’t mean 2017 sucks—far from it—it’s just a technical difference which actually warms my heart if we look at how far has Ghost come. So, once again, considering the budget in 2017 vs. 2023 it’s all understandable. Also the crowd sound control in 2023 is very fun; it makes a great use of all the yelling causing the whole song to sound warmer and fuller.

Both 2017 and 2023 are on the exact same tempo, they can be put over each other perfectly (which I did). They slide apart at the end and the break before the outro is longer in 2023. The 2023 outro itself is pretty boring in comparison to 2017, most likely because in 2023 it’s not a closing song. Below there’s both “Absolutions” over each other; 2023 in the left and 2017 in the right headphone.

[dsireland86]

Ooh i would love to request a fic inspired by the song Pillowtalk by Zayn Malik? It can be for whoever you think fits best x fem reader?

I just have to confess how much I love this song 😍

PillowTalk

Tag list:

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I was never a one for talking after sex. It just wasn't my thing. Well, with my ex any way. With him, it was a give it, get it, and be done with it type of relationship. We were never mean about it. It's just that there wasn't much to say afterward. I guess that's why things didn't last between us. 

With Matt, things were instantly different. The moment we met, I felt connected to him. From our love of plants and animals to music and movies, our interests were the same. We both had a few things here and there that were different, but nothing that the other couldn't or wouldn't tolerate. It was almost perfect, and I say almost, because there was one flaw we both had that could burn everything to the ground if we allowed it to. Our tempers. Both of us could be stubborn, arrogant, prideful assholes to each other when we wanted to be which was never a good thing, especially on tour. But we managed it and never allowed it to go too far. Until today. I think I may have crossed the line, and now Matt won't talk to me or even look at me.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the back door to the venue open and carry the case with the smaller soundboard up to the front-of-house area where Matt is sprawled out under a table hooking up wires. As he goes to sit up, he slams his head into the bottom of it, letting out a mouthful of curses followed by a few growls and grunts as he stands up.

"Shit, babe, are you okay?"

Matt glares at me. 

"As if you care?" he snaps, taking his hat off to rub the spot and fix his hair. 

Ouch. 

"Oookay... yeah, I care, or I wouldn't have asked," I snap back a little harder than I mean to. 

Matt scoffs. 

"Whatever, Y/N. Is that the soundboard I asked for?" he asks, pointing to the case in my hand. 

The saltiness in his tone stings, but I tell myself I deserve it for how I treated him earlier this morning. I swallow the lump in my throat and fight the tears that are trying to form. I clear my throat and hand over the case. 

"Uh, yeah. Here ya go."

Matt takes the case without a glance at me. I stand there frozen, unsure of what to do next. 

"So, is this how it's going to be today?" I ask, trying to avoid the crack in my voice. 

Matt shrugs. 

"I'm sorry," I apologize as meaningfully as I can.   "I still love you, I still love us. I didn't mean..."

"Save the pillowtalk, Y/N," he snaps again. 

"I've got a lot of shit to do. If you want to help, fine. If not, that's fine, too. Just," but he doesn't finish, and honestly, he doesn't have to. I already know what he wants to say. 

"Fine." 

I turn and walk away, unable to process any thoughts properly. 

Soundcheck sounds great. The guys have pulled it all together once again, almost flawlessly. Noah's voice is a little raspy due to allergies, but it's nothing that's detrimental to his performance. I yell up at him that I'll get some tea ready for him in the green room and to come get it when he can. He gives me that beautiful smile of his, and it makes me happy to know I can make others feel better. If only I could make myself feel better.

I catch Matt's stare as I walk by him. It's heavy as if he's holding something back. Probably his anger. I break eye contact and head to the green room to prepare Noah's tea like promised, taking the coffee pot to the bathroom to fill it with water from the sink. As I turn the water off, I look up into the mirror and catch a glimpse of Matt standing in the doorway. I almost scream and just about drop the pot of water from being so startled.  

"Holy shit, you scared the living crap out of me," I cry, bringing my hand to my chest. 

Matt grins and steps further into the bathroom and closer to me. His hand snakes around my neck as he pulls me into him, bringing our bodies closer together.

"Matt, I don't understand. I thought you were mad at me,” I say, shaking my head lightly while gazing at his face. 

"I don't, either. Just shut-up and fucking kiss me," he orders, slamming his lips into mine.

I make a noise in the back of my throat that has him groaning as our mouths come together and our tongues begin to dance. I love the feeling of Matt's when he rolls his tip over mine and then messages the top so sweetly in a way that only he can. I manage to sit the pot in the sink before dropping it and risk it breaking, throwing my arms around Matt's neck as I do. Our breaths mingle, our hearts beat together, and before either of us know what's happening, Matt has my pants off with his shorts down around his ankles, and he's buried himself deep inside me, apologizing the best way he knows how. I can barely contain myself. His lovin' is so good, so fire, so soothing that I'd give anything to keep him inside me all day. 

"Hold me hard, baby," Matt whispers, panting as he places a kiss on my forehead.  

Lifting my leg up, Matt latches onto it and brings it up around his hip, matching it with the other one until my legs are wrapped tightly around his waist and I'm pinned snuggly between him and the bathroom wall. 

"Ugh, fuck yeah, that feels better. Much better angle," grunting in pleasure and kissing me desperately.  

"Why am I always your worst enemy? Why do we fight like we do?" I asked breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall. 

Matt groans after I moan a little too loud once he finds the right spot inside me. 

"It's a thick line, Y/N. Our love has always been a sort of battlefield, a war zone even. But we're still on the same side." 

I dig my nails into his shoulders when he lifts my shirt and pulls the pad of my bra down to take my nipple into his mouth, nipping the tip and making me cry out as the feeling hits the right spot in my core. 

"We're still allies, baby, even if we're dirty and it's raw. You and I, we fuck like winners and we love like conquers, no matter how bad we fight. I still love you, too."

Matt wipes the tears away that fall from my eyes, and I pull him back onto me, holding onto him tightly as we both finish together. 

The bus rocks everyone to sleep, and by halfway through the drive, everyone is sound asleep except me and Matt. We went high and hard in the green room earlier in the day, but now the tempo is slow, dark, and mellow. There's no rush. There's no desperate hunger or need. Just the place that feels my tears and where Matt loses his fears. It's a place, like he said earlier, is dirty and raw, yet pure at the same time. It's our paradise, our war zone. It's our love. 

I lay pressed against Matt's chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart. It's magical and soothing, nobody but us, our bodies pressed together.  

"I love holding you close like this," Matt says softly, the deep rumbling of his voice vibrating from somewhere inside him. "Thanks for letting me tonight, for always letting me hold you close."

His sweet vulnerability is showing, which is something he only allows me to see. I feel horrible for making him feel the way I did earlier, especially when I know how much of himself he trusts me with. Wiggling out of his grasp and shifting as best as I can, within the confines of the small bottom bunk, I manage to climb on top of him and get him between my legs once again. I can't see his face in the darkness, but I can feel him, and that's all I need.

"I love waking up next to you," I admit, leaning over and kissing down his neck. 

His warm hands slither over the skin of my bottom and up my back, gently grabbing my sides and hips. 

“I love the way you feel inside me, the way you always claim me as yours." 

"Oh my god," Matt groans sensually as I slip myself over him like a perfect glove and very slowly ride him. "I fucked with your head earlier. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry," I apologize, laying my chest against his and kissing him. His hands press on my bottom, keeping the slow, steady pace of us moving together. 

"I lost my temper with you. I shouldn't have," he manages to say, rocking his hips with mine. 

"I saw the pain in your eyes, knowing I was the one responsible for it. I didn't like how it felt." "Yeah, well, I saw the pleasure in yours when I fucked you in the bathroom earlier, so I guess we're even," he admits, running his hand over my face gently caressing it.

"I guess we're both prisoners in this then, huh?" 

"I guess so, but I'll gladly and willingly stay locked up with you." 

"Me, too." Matt kisses me, bringing his hands up and wrapping them around my face so he can kiss me harder. 

Our teeth smash together, and we're soon out of breath. He groans, dragging his nails down my back and over my bottom, pushing on it so that my sex can clench around him tighter. When I do, I hear his faint whisper of admittance, then feel the warmth of his seed fill me completely with some of it leaking out against my thighs. He lays back against the pillows, breathing hard, as I can only stay on top of him and lay my head down on his chest and fall asleep to the sound of his pounding heart.