#I hope this is coherent I'm too tired to see straight

[iffylogic]

Last Line

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Ack I almost forgot about this! Thanks for the tag @riinoaheartilly, sorry for the delay 😅

"I heard you, even if it took me years more to listen."

Tagging: @thee-lionheart @barananduen-blog @pinnadraws @sunny-explosions @promised-meadow, if any of you feel like it! I'm stopping at five because I get self-conscious enough tagging people as it is, but if you wanna join in then go for it!

[cha-melodius]

Fic Fest!!

You know it’s gonna be FirstPrince … and I need that Kennedy Garden AU!

Congrats on your 100th work!! You’re an incredible writer and person and I feel quite fortunate to know you.

(Thank you for this lovely prompt Sam!! I'm sorry this took forever, but I hope you enjoy this AU!)

Flowers Only Grow Where There Are Seeds

(T, 4k, read it below or on AO3)

“Are you watching that guy like a weirdo creep again?” June asks, too close to his ear, and Alex jumps a fucking mile.

“I’m not being a weirdo creep,” he huffs, folding his arms over his chest as he steps away from the window overlooking the Kennedy Gardens.

June gives him a look. “But you are watching him.”

“I was just— I was walking by and I happened to notice him, and—”

“You should go talk to him,” June interrupts blithely, already sauntering away.

“What? No,” Alex scoffs.

“Why not? He’d probably be flattered he caught the attention of the First Son.”

“He’s working, June,” Alex says. “He doesn’t want to be bothered.”

June shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

~~~~~

Alex doesn’t know exactly what about the gardener first caught his attention. Maybe it was the fact that he was younger than a lot of the other people who were employed to work on the landscaping at the White House—Alex’s age, or thereabouts. Maybe it was the way he was always still somehow so pale after working in the sun all day. Maybe it was the fact that he could have been a model, with his long legs and swooping cheekbones and full lips, and yet he was spending his days clipping bushes and digging up bulbs.

Actually, all of that’s a lie: Alex knows exactly when the gardener caught his attention.

It had been an abnormally warm early spring day, and he’d been pacing in front of a bank of windows as he tried to wrestle his ideas into something that might resemble a coherent essay for one of his classes. He wasn’t even looking out at the gardens, not really, but a flash of movement caught his eye and drew him over to the glass. A hose had failed somehow, leaving the man who’d been working with it looking like he was re-enacting Mr. Darcy emerging from the lake (what? June has those movies on all the time, it’s not like it’s his fault if he gets caught up in them sometimes). The gardener had plucked at his thin white shirt as it clung to his torso, revealing a truly breathtaking collection of muscles sculpted by regular manual labor, before he’d finally peeled the whole thing off, taking his dingy ball cap with it.

That was when Alex discovered that they were currently employing what might very well be the most gorgeous man on the planet.

That was also when Alex realized he might be something less than 100% straight. Ok, it had taken some more time after that, and more than a few instances of catching sight of the beautiful gardener again, before he started to understand what he was feeling. He still isn’t really sure if he’s actually bi or just lonely and horny, but that was definitely the start.

He’s well aware of how weird it would be to go hit on the man, for many, many reasons, so he just… appreciates from a distance. It’s fine. In a few months it will be winter again, and Alex probably won’t see him around anymore. He’ll get over his stupid little infatuation on someone he’s never even spoken to, and that will be that.

~~~~~

It’s one of those days, when there’s too much going on and he can’t get Cash to go with him on a run outside of the White House grounds, so Alex just ends up looping endlessly around in little circles on the path around the South Lawn, trying to get out some of the excess energy that’s thrumming in his veins. Eventually, he manages to tire himself out enough and ends up sprawled out on his back behind some bushes in the Children’s Garden, staring up as the clouds drift past. He doesn’t know how long he lies there, only that he still hasn’t quite come back to earth when he hears the sound of footsteps on the nearby path. Probably he should get up, but he can’t really bring himself to care who sees him like this.

That’s before the hot gardener comes around the corner. His light blue button-down shirt is hanging open, thrown loosely over a white tank top that’s smudged with dirt and sweat-darkened at the neckline, and Alex might have fallen over if he wasn’t already on the ground.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here,” the gardener says. The accent is a surprise. An extremely sexy surprise. Fuck. “Do you need a hand?”

Alex could use a hand with something, all right. In his own tank top and the running shorts that June says are an inch away from a misdemeanor, he’s really not wearing enough clothing for this. Or maybe he’s wearing too much. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to get a fucking grip before he starts to push up off the ground. The gardener’s proffered hand appears in his line of vision, so he takes it because it would be more awkward not to. It’s warm and dry and rough with callouses that Alex feels no particular way about, and he lets the gardener’s strong grip tug him upward, until he gets his feet under him again.

It’s only then that the gardener seems to clock him. His eyes go wide as they track over Alex’s body and linger on his face. “Oh. You’re…”

Their hands are still clasped together, and Alex tightens his hold around Henry’s. “Alex.”

“Henry,” the gardener says in return as his lips part in a smile, which is devastating, actually.

“Nice to meet you, Henry,” Alex says. He might let a little of the southern drawl slip out, honey smooth. Sue him.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Henry replies, his rounded vowels dipping low, and ok, he’s a smooth motherfucker too. Alex is officially fucked.

“You’re British.”

Henry laughs, cocking an eyebrow at him. “An astute observation.”

“No I just mean—” Alex cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I didn’t expect it, but I guess it fits.”

“Why?” Henry asks, tipping his head as a little furrow appears between his brows.

Alex bites his lip. “Because everything about you is unexpected, Henry.”

~~~~~

Alex should leave him alone. He should listen to what he told June and not bother a White House employee when he’s working.

The thing about Henry, though, is that he’s ridiculously easy to talk to, and he always seems so pleased to see Alex. It’s impossible to stay away whenever Alex spots him working in the gardens, which is frequently these days. It’s the middle of summer, which means Henry is mostly working in the mornings and evenings when the heat isn’t quite so bad, but occasionally Alex finds him doing something ridiculous like digging a hole to plant a bush in the middle of the day.

As he’s now wont to do, Alex makes his way out to the gardens with a large glass of lemonade. Henry’s entire face lights up when he sees Alex coming, which Alex is sure is less because of him and more the promise of ice cold refreshment. The poor guy is absolutely drenched in sweat, which Alex absolutely is not thinking about licking off his collarbones. As Alex walks up to him, Henry sinks the shovel into the loose dirt and pulls his ball cap off, the muscles of his arms rippling when he pushes a hand through blond hair darkened with sweat. Alex narrowly avoids swallowing his tongue as he hands the glass off, and when their fingers brush, Alex feels the contact tingling in his fingertips long after Henry’s pulled away.

And that’s before Henry tips his head back and takes a long drink of the lemonade, the muscles of his throat working as he swallows. Thank fuck it’s hot outside, because Alex is sweating like he’s the one who’s been working in the sun for hours.

Somehow, he manages to regain his faculties for conversation by the time Henry’s finished the lemonade, and they fall into their usual easy banter as Henry works. (Alex once offered to help out, feeling bad for standing around while Henry was sweating his ass off, and Henry had laughed and laughed and told him that he’d be fired if he let the First Son do his job for him.) They talk about everything and nothing—about movies and music, about the best food trucks that frequent the area around the mall, about what Alex has been up to during the summer, about the many projects always going on in the gardens.

“How’d you end up working here, anyway?” Alex asks from where he’s reclining in the shade, plucking bits of grass out of the lawn and tearing them apart.

“It’s a long story,” Henry grunts as he shovels. “I moved to the US for a fresh start. The gardening, I sort of fell into. I needed a job, and I always liked working with my hands. I’m certain that my friend sent me this listing as a joke because I—” His voice fails as his eyes cut over to Alex, then drop quickly to the ground again. He clears his throat. “Well. It’s not important. But I decided to apply anyway. I think Rodolfo thought I was having him on when I showed up at the interview, but he must have seen something in me.” Henry huffs a laugh. “Or maybe I was the only one who passed all the frankly mental background checks that were required to work at the White House. And now, here I am.”

“You’re my age,” Alex says, squinting at him. “You didn’t go to college?”

“I dropped out of Oxford,” Henry replies simply.

Alex can’t help it; his jaw drops open. “You dropped out of Oxford? What happened? Did you not like it?”

He knows he shouldn’t pry, but he can’t help it. He wants to know everything about Henry.

“I loved it,” Henry says, and there’s a smile on his face but an unmistakably melancholic note in his voice. “I wanted to be a writer. But I couldn’t stay. Not with the pressure from my grandmother and the way she was insistent on ruling my life.” He stops speaking for a long moment, but never pauses in his digging. “Sometimes I think about going back to school eventually. For now, I’m happy with this. I like it. There’s a beautiful simplicity to my life.”

“Wow,” Alex breathes. For once, he doesn’t really know what to say. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Henry. But for what it’s worth… I’m glad you ended up here.”

Henry leans on the shovel, smiling at him. “Me, too.”

~~~~~

Alex is trying to make any kind of sense of a bill that the Republicans are going to try to push through the Senate—don’t ask how he got the draft—when Nora lets herself into his room without so much as a knock.

“Wow, entitled much,” Alex huffs, barely glancing up from his work. At least she brought burritos.

“You invited me here, dumbass,” Nora retorts as she flings herself onto his couch. “Remember? Bisexual awakening movie night? Don’t tell me you forgot about Rick and Evie.”

Alex groans, wiping a hand over his face. “No way it’s fucking Sunday.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I might be.”

“All the more reason you need a break,” Nora tells him firmly. “Your classes don’t start for another week. Why are you working?”

“Because I’m gonna be a senior next year and I have to have something lined up for afterward,” he grumbles.

“I’m sure your mom will give you a job on the campaign,” she says as she finds the remote to his TV and starts navigating through streaming services.

“Maybe I want options. Don’t want everyone to think I’m just a useless nepo baby.”

Nora snorts. “Because I’m sure no one will think your connections got you a job in Rafael Luna’s office.”

“Fuck off,” he groans, turning away from her again. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Ok,” she agrees, too easily. “You got a secret admirer or something? Who sent you those?”

“What?”

“Those,” Nora repeats, gesturing to the small vase full of multicolored roses that’s sitting in front of her on his coffee table. Red, lavender, orange, blue, and even these neat yellow ones tipped with red around the edge of the petals.

“Oh,” Alex says dismissively. “No one sent them. Henry brought them by.”

“Who the fuck is Henry?”

“He’s a gardener who works here.”

“Hold on, the gardener? Your gardener?” she says, sounding too delighted by half. Alex may have talked about him before, once or twice.

Alex huffs and sets his pencil down, turning back to glare at her. “He’s not my gardener. He’s an employee of the White House.”

Nora grins smugly. “He’s the one you’ve got a crush on, though.”

“I don’t—” He breaks off with a frustrated grunt. “We’re not having this conversation, either.”

“And he brought you flowers,” she continues, ignoring him.

“It doesn’t mean anything. He has to prune the roses so that they keep producing more blooms, and he brought me some extras because I said I liked them one day while I was out in the garden. That’s all.”

That’s what Henry told him when he showed up with the first ones, his face flushed red from being out in the sun. Alex’s heart had done something very fucking complicated in his chest, but he’d accepted them in the spirit with which they were given: as a friendly gesture, and nothing more. The haphazard arrangement is all Alex—Henry brings by a different color almost every day, and Alex adds them in the vase, which is getting rather full.

“That’s all,” Nora scoffs with obvious deep skepticism.

“What?”

“Alex, when a boy gives you roses, it always means something,” she says solemnly. “Did you look up the colors?”

“Huh?” he replies, becoming increasingly lost.

Nora shakes her head at him, like he’s the crazy one. “Different colored roses mean different things. Maybe he’s sending you secret messages.”

Alex snorts dismissively. “Pretty sure they’re just whatever’s blooming in the garden.”

“If you say so,” she says, sounding extremely unconvinced. “Can we watch the movie now?”

“Please.”

~~~~~

By the time November rolls around, the gardens are looking pretty dire. Alex never really took notice of what was going on before this year—the plants were just there, in the background, and sometimes it was more colorful than others. Now, though, he notices. Notices the autumn flowers as they come into bloom and die back, notices the trees dropping their leaves, notices the bushes getting thin and scraggly. Henry’s still been around, working in jackets and hoodies as the temperature dips, but between the lessened need for garden care and Alex’s punishing course load, they haven’t seen each other as much. Alex pretends like he doesn’t know that’s why he gets unaccountably grumpy sometimes.

Today he’s on a mission, though, and after confirming that Henry was on the work schedule, Alex scours the grounds until he finds Henry by the tennis court, trimming some bushes. There’s a biting chill in the air, and Henry is bundled up, his nose and cheeks red from the cold. He seems surprised but pleased to see Alex, and Alex bites down on a too-large grin as he holds out the envelope he’d brought with him.

“What’s this?” Henry asks, pulling off his work gloves before he takes it and carefully breaks the seal.

Alex shifts nervously and jams his hands in his pants pockets so he doesn’t fidget. “It’s an invitation. To our big New Year’s party? You’ve probably heard about it.”

“I’m familiar, yes,” Henry says dryly, smirking a little as he glances up from the embossed paper. “But I was under the impression seats were thousands of dollars and reserved for the who’s who of America’s hot young glitterati.”

“First off, you’re young and hot, and it doesn’t matter if you’re not rich,” Alex says, pretending that he didn’t just call Henry hot to his face. Whatever. It’s an objective truth. “We waive the seat cost when there’s someone we really want to come that can't afford it.”

“And you really want me to come,” Henry surmises, still looking vaguely amused by the situation.

Fuck it. “Yes,” Alex answers firmly.

Henry looks back down at the invitation, trailing a finger over the engraving. “I can afford it,” he mutters.

“What?”

“I said, I can afford it,” Henry repeats as he meets Alex’s eyes again. “I know I don’t look it most days, but I have a rather large inheritance that I’m delighted to spend on good causes.”

Alex blinks. He knew Henry’s family back in England was wealthy, but he kind of assumed that after Henry dropped out and moved across an ocean to work as a gardener, he wasn’t in the same boat. “Oh,” he breathes. “Well, you can certainly donate if you want.”

“I do,” Henry confirms. He taps on the invitation with a finger. “It says here I get a plus one.”

Alex’s heart plummets to somewhere near the Earth’s core. Of course Henry has someone. He’s young and hot and amazing, and it’s frankly ridiculous to think he wouldn’t already have a significant other. Or maybe there’s someone he wants to impress—an invite to the year’s biggest party would do wonders. Alex is just the guy that pesters him while he’s working. He never had a shot.

“Yeah,” he manages, cursing the way the word croaks out of his throat. “Of course. It’s, ah, standard, I guess, so if you want to bring someone…”

Henry just smiles at him. “Wonderful.”

~~~~~

Alex stares up at the stars, watching as the cloud of his breath briefly obscures them, making them twinkle before it dissipates. It’s freezing out here, especially after being in the heat generated by the crush of bodies at the party, but for once, Alex appreciates that. He takes another breath, letting the cold air flowing into his lungs numb the ache in his chest.

The crunch of footsteps on the frosted lawn draws his attention, and he looks over to see Henry hovering nearby, still nothing short of stunning in his clean black tux.

He’d arrived with an ostentatiously dressed man he introduced as his best mate Pez, which was a fucking trip because of course Alex had heard of Percy Okonjo. Pez was charming and handsome and immediately the life of the party, but Alex couldn’t tear his eyes away from Henry. Saying he cleaned up well would be a trite cliche, but fuck if it wasn’t true; he looked more like a prince or a movie star than the boy with dirt ground into the creases of his hands that Alex knows. Alex had been buoyed for a while by the fact that Henry had not brought a date with him, but as midnight crept closer, his spirits had started sinking again.

The Kennedy Gardens had seemed like a safe place to retreat. He should have known better. 

“I’m fairly certain the host isn’t supposed to hide from the party,” Henry teases gently, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

“I’m only one of three. June and Nora have it on lock,” Alex replies with a sigh. “Sorry for leaving you to the wolves though.”

“It’s fine,” Henry says, shaking his head as he walks a little closer. “Believe it or not, this isn’t my first time at this kind of soirée.”

Alex snorts at that. “Oh, a soirée. Aren’t you fancy?”

“Says the man in a velvet tuxedo.”

“Touché,” Alex returns. His smile falters a little as he stares back up at the stars. “I needed a break. Don’t get me wrong, I usually fucking thrive at these things, but sometimes being ‘on’ all the time starts to wear on you, you know?”

“Why do you think I’m a gardener?” Henry says wryly.

“Fair enough,” Alex says with a puff of laughter. “I just… needed a moment to myself, I guess.”

“I shouldn’t intrude, then,” Henry replies softly, already stepping backwards.

“No,” Alex blurts, probably too desperately, but he couldn’t care less about that if it means Henry won’t leave. “I mean, you don’t have to go. I don’t mind the company. When it’s you.”

Henry halts in his tracks, his eyes going wide. “Oh.”

Thankfully, he stops trying to leave and instead comes closer, until he’s right next to Alex, a few bare, aching inches separating their shoulders. For a moment they both just stand there staring up at the sky, until the champagne soaking Alex’s brain gets the better of him.

“If I’m being honest, I wasn’t so excited to count down to the New Year.”

Henry shifts a little to face him more directly. “No?”

Alex shrugs. “The winter’s one thing when you’ve got the holidays to look forward to, but after tonight, it’s nothing but cold and gray. Everything’s dead and brown, and it’ll be months until things are growing again, and you won’t be around…”

He trails off slightly too late to save himself. Whatever. He’s allowed to say he’s going to miss seeing a friend. He stares fixedly up at the sky, resolutely refusing to look at whatever Henry’s face is doing, but then Henry moves to stand in front of him, and he has little choice but to meet those gorgeous blue eyes. They’re crinkled slightly in amusement, but not unkindly.

Fond, he thinks distantly. Henry looks fond.

“Let me make sure I have this right,” Henry says carefully. “You’re out here pouting tonight because you think this is the last time you’re going to see me until spring?”

Alex huffs out a laugh and looks down, feeling his face heat. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”

“You’re wrong about some things, love,” Henry replies, inching closer. Moving slowly, he reaches out to slide a hand onto Alex’s waist, the mere pressure of it lighting a fire under Alex’s skin even as Alex trembles involuntarily under his touch. Then he looks out at the gardens. “They’re not dead. A bit dormant, perhaps, but still in need of care. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?” Alex asks breathlessly.

Henry shakes his head. “There’s plenty to do over the winter. Planning, cleaning, prepping the beds… Rodolfo has plenty to keep us busy. I’ll admit, I was intending on taking some time off, but you certainly won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Alex feels like he’s fucking flying, or would be if Henry’s steady presence wasn’t tethering him to the ground. He’s shifted even closer now, nearly pressing Alex back against the tree, and Alex lifts his arms to loop loosely over Henry’s shoulders as he lets a pleased grin curl onto his lips. “There aren’t any roses, though.”

“I’ll buy you roses, you absolute menace,” Henry huffs, but he’s smiling too broadly to sell being put out about it.

“I have another confession,” Alex breathes into the rapidly vanishing space between their lips. “I also ran away because I wanted to kiss you at midnight, but I couldn’t.”

Henry pauses, pulling back a little, though he thankfully doesn’t let go. “Ah. I understand if you can’t afford the questions—”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t care who knows. I mean, I should probably make a plan for officially coming out, but that’s not why,” Alex jumps in before he can get anything else out, because it’s important that Henry knows.

Alex isn’t ashamed and he doesn’t want to hide but, like so many things in his life, it’s not that simple. He takes a deep breath, forcing his jumbled thoughts into something that makes sense, which is no mean feat when he’s tipsy and his arms are full of a very handsome gardener who he’d much rather be kissing.

“It’s a lot, being in the public eye the way I am, and I couldn’t ask that of you,” Alex says as he stares fixedly at Henry’s tie. It’s got little yellow roses on it, and he can’t resist dropping a hand down to run a finger down the silk. “You like your quiet life.”

“I like it,” Henry murmurs. He lifts a hand to Alex’s chin, his fingers icy cold on Alex’s overheated skin, and nudges Alex’s face up so that their eyes meet. “I like you more.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes.

“Now, about that New Year’s kiss…”

Henry is biting his lip, looking hopeful and coy all at once as he stares down at Alex through pale lashes, and Alex… can’t believe this is his life, actually. He’s going to enjoy it while it lasts, though—just them, in the garden that brought them together, and a kiss that holds as much endless potential as the plants around them. Not fragile but resilient, perennial, ready to grow and bloom into something truly incredible.

[linkeduniverse-writing]

General LU Headcanons part 1

Heya! So I'm starting this blog with some general headcanons about the boys, I think I'll divide it in three parts so it's not too long. First up are Four, Hyrule, and Legend! Hope you enjoy :D

Part 2 Part 3

Four

It takes him so long to emerge from sleep

Like he'll be in a haze for like 20 minutes, not able to form any coherent thoughts

Which is kind of a surprise because he's one of the early risers, and is super reactive once fully awake

He tends to talk to himself a lot, mostly when he does something or thinks through a problem

It's mostly to exteriorize all the noise inside his head tho

The others aren't as weirded out by it than he feared, and he's thankful for it

Whenever they're in a market or just in a town, he always finds himself drawn to craftsmanship

Like if they need to interrogate people about monsters and stuff, he'll go ask artisans mostly

He feels more comfortable around them

It feels like home

Also he likes to compare his work to other blacksmith's

He feels like he has a lot to learn still, and he's very curious about how the craft has evolved with time

He doesn't know first aid and the scent of blood makes him sick, but if his teammates need tending he'll do his best

He tries to see their wounds as metal work needing repairs

It helps him keep his cool

But he'd rather leave it to someone else

Hyrule

Another early riser, but he hates it

He loves sleeping in and wishes his body would let him sometimes

But oh well, when it's time to wake up it's time to wake up

He's a very light sleeper too, like the wind blowing in the leaves above would wake him up

He hates it

Botany nerd

Loves keeping track of the new plants he finds along the way

He always asks the Link from the Hyrule they're in if he knows about it, and will pick them up if he can't get an answer, to study them later hopefully

He rarely can, but when they have a moment he'll either find a plant book (and a Link who can read it for him) or straight up ask someone if they know about the plant

He's always so polite and genuinely curious, people can't help but answer

He accidentally set Sky's stuff on fire once when showing off his fire magic to Wind

Sky was too impressed to truly be mad at him tho

(Also Hyrule replaced all of the stuff that couldn't be repaired, don't ask him how)

He doesn't mind blood and grime and gore, but can't handle anything with maggots in it

He'll stitch up anything, he'll put bones back in place if necessary, but one bug? In a wound? Don't count on him

He can keep his calm even before the grossest injuries, which is why he's often fixing up the others after a fight

He rarely uses his healing magic tho, he knows he'll tire too easily, and he can't help them if he can barely stay awake

So potions potions potions

He's a gentle caregiver but you better do as he says when you're hurt

Legend

A heavy sleeper, and he dreams a lot, but he never remember them

Probably for the best if you ask him

He usually wakes late, but never truly rested unfortunately

That never stoped him from being immediately efficient and fully awake tho

He knows he has a reputation of being sharp and closed off, but he's a really good listener

He's the kind of person curse the world with you when you vent until you're in the right headspace to find a solution

He kind of encourages the others in their dumbest ideas just to see what'll happen

(not the too dangerous ones, of course)

But he's curious, and after all the adventures he's been through, he believes that if he survived all of this, surely Wild will survive trying to cook a bomb flower

He did, but Twilight almost died of stress

He's the one who helps Warrior with refilling their inventory when they're low on supplies

He's a great negotiator and can get them twice the supplies for the same price

He's sometimes even charming enough to get them all a free meal

It's his favorite skill

He doesn't mind blood but will not look at broken limbs

Not his own, not other's

He tries to keep his cool around the others to not make them panic, but he really hates broken bones

If one of them is hurt, he'll try to distract them and make sure they have water and enough heat

He'll also keep them in place if they move around too much for Hyrule or Warrior to work on them

He's not gentle, but he's still reassuring somehow

[the-starry-seas]

hmmm a little royal ot3 angst from breha's perspective, i think

She's frustrated enough that she lets the door slam behind her. She expects the echo of it, but what she doesn't expect is the second noise of a datapad falling to the floor.

Fox is sitting in the bay window, staring at her, a thick blanket half over his legs to ward off the night chill. Even from across the room, she can see his tense shoulders and wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," she grits out, pressing a hand to her forehead, wishing her voice was calmer, wondering if she should leave. "I didn't know you were in here, I wouldn't have slammed the door."

"It's okay." He leans to pick up the datapad, and she wonders if he's intentionally avoiding her gaze. He does that a lot, when he's nervous.

Or he just needs to see where the datapad is and you're overthinking things.

She sighs and turns back to the door. She hates when she and Bail argue like this, and she hates the look in Fox's eyes when he overhears. He was obviously comfortable, with the pillows behind him and the mug steaming at his side, and she doesn't want to disturb him.

"Breha," he says, and she stops with her hand on the doorknob. "We can sit in front of the fire."

They can. That was why she came here in the first place, because sometimes what she really needs is to lay down on that massive fur and listen to the fire crackle. She doesn't know why it's calming, but it works all the same. And she wants to calm down. She wants to be calm, and she wants Bail to be calm, and she wants to kiss him goodnight instead of going to bed angry.

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's okay," he repeats, and he looks at her this time, so maybe it is.

She's a little stompy as she crosses the floor, she knows, and she sits in a rather undignified heap, frowning at the fireplace even though it hasn't exactly done anything wrong. Fighting with Bail is awful. The only thing more awful is not being able to be with him because he's angry with her.

She's tired, and she'd like to not be.

It surprises her immensely when Fox kneels next to her, his palms flat against his thighs, his feet tucked under him.

"Breha," he says quietly.

"I can't talk, Fox." She drags her hands down her face and sighs.

"I know. You don't have to."

That's a refreshing change. She can think of few other people who wouldn't try poking her for at least one detail. She'll tell him something later, once she and Bail have made up, so he won't have to worry about their moods.

"But you can hit me," Fox continues, ripping her world out from under her, "if it would help."

For a moment, she can only stare at him. He says it so casually. There's no sadness in his eyes. No fear. Just something that looks a little like resignation. Like he won't blame her at all, if she does.

"You?" she whispers. "I could never." She's never wanted to hit anyone, but she can't imagine hitting Fox.

"It's okay," he says a third time, and she's beginning to hate those words. "I won't hurt you. Do whatever you want."

She knows better than to just touch him, she does, but what she wants is for someone to hold her, and she thinks he might need it, too.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck, one knee hiked over his thigh so she can fit against him. His hand rests hesitantly on her leg.

"Darling, don't you dare ever let anyone hurt you," she tells him. "If anyone, ever says they want to hit you, you- you come straight to me and don't let anything stop you."

"I was trained to take it. They said it doesn't hurt me as much as it would a natborn."

Well, she doesn't believe that for a second, but she's not in possession of very many coherent thoughts right now, so she doesn't say anything about that, just holds him as gently as she can.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Fox. I just want to hold you."

Her fingers draw slowly up and down his spine, over the tattoo she memorised long ago, hoping it might help to calm him like it sometimes does after his nightmares. It's so beautiful. He's so beautiful. She wonders if he'll ever stop breaking her heart.

[anavatazes]

Hi. *shuffles feet* Been a while. Might still be a bit yet before I start posting regularly again. Long of the short? Had a bit of mental break and needed a break. Slowly easing my way back into things. Slowly.

Obligatory picture of Mara, taking the youngest to school. Her favorite thing, next to eating ❤️.

Anyway, heart is still in a stranglehold by Joel. Pedro as Joel is NOT helping, as he does 😏.

And what really prompted this, was one of my original heartbreakers from when I was a teen, in combination with one of my most favorite characters in comics are coming together again to expand on their time together in the Savage Land 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠.

Is it January yet 🤤🤤?

Uncanny X-Men 269, 274 & 275 were my favorites when they came out. Rogue was already my favorite character among Storm and Nightcrawler, but this story really captured her essence. She was depowered, just arrived out of Siege Perilous, no one else around, and is attacked by the Mauraders. She uses Gateway's ability to escape but ends up in the land of dinos, fighting Carol Danvers, and being saved by the missing Magneto?! Who Jim Lee really could draw 🤤🫠. It's a great story, and I recommend it.

And now, this January, they are revisiting that story to fill in some gaps. I do hope they don't do any retcons. There is enough hate from Rogue/Gambit shippers as it is, that if they even get a hint of Magneto anywhere near Rogue, they explode. It's like, dude, fucking chill. Gambit has been the end game all along. We all knew it from the moment the Cajun first laid eyes on her. They are married now. If ya'll don't stop, I'm gonna start hating a favorite couple of mine... and it's not the one you want.

Also, no retcons in this, because, well, Magneto is the king of retcons, and I am tired of it. The major being his children Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver. Sorry, not sorry, you cannot still draw Pietro like Max, and say Max did not birth that boy. Nope. Even acts like him, still. It's Max Eisenhardt, Jr. So, no retcons. Don't cheapen the Legacy romance nor ruin things in the ROMY world.

Seeing more of Magneto helping Rogue figure out what is wrong with her powers, please! The man is a fucking genius. Self-taught in so much, too! Let the man show off! Part of what makes him so hot 🔥.

I want to see Colossus' son. Other than a blip here and there, we saw him last in the 80s, I think? Even if it's in passing with the tribes Ka-zar and Shanna are helping, just something!!!! The X-Men know he’s there. WTF happened to him?! This would be perfect for it.

Zaladane. More backstory, please. We were never given 100% yea or nea if she is, in fact, another of Magneto's children or what her exact connection to Polaris is. Not sure what I want, other than closure. This is as close to a return for the character as we're gonna get, and I will enjoy every minute.

I read a good chunk of Tim Seeley's run on Nightwing, and he's good. There is hope that this just won't be a wet dream of a scantily clad chick with two half nekkid guys and dinosaurs! Dick Grayson is a pretty complex character, as are Rogue and Magneto, so I feel they are in good hands.

As a few who are reading this know, I've been looking for pre-order information. I still haven't found any. But I did find an exact release date for issue #1 -

January 15, 2025. It's already on my calendar. I will probably blow my husband's mind and buy both digital and physical on this straight away. I always get digital on the Kindle and use the points I earn to buy more digital, which saves me tons of $$$$. Then, I will buy the TPB or individual issues of the books I want. It's rare I go straight in. But I want more Rogue stories, and this is how you get more Rogue stories.

Hope all that was understandable. Thanks to a stupid change in insurance, I am without one of my meds, and I am feeling it. Lack of sleep, high anxiety levels, and a breakthrough migraine that won't stop. I may not have been all that coherent 😄. Anyway, love you bitches. I am making my way back. Slowly.

[kanamori-kamper-moved]

❤️‍🩹 for aztecshipping?

aaaa I love this!! Don’t have any ideas for them in terms of regular Yuma and trey but I have been having more knight trey and prince yuma ideas :333 As always, transfem Trey so she uses the feminine pronoun

enjoy!! (Also there are a few font changes in this so do tell if you need me to reformat anything)

ask game

-

Yuma sighs longingly. He’s read her letters far too many times. They are always written in flowery, soft cursive and laden with beautifully chosen words straight out of a poem.

When was the last time he saw her? He didn't know. Yuma has forgotten now, but all he knows is that even throughout his business, he deeply misses Trey. He's been swamped in work, far too tired to even write back to her. He felt guilty, eyes moving back-and-forth slowly through the words on the paper.

"I know you've been busy. Just know that if even if you come to be away from me, I'll always be there to protect you, even if in spirit. I long to see you, and to spend time with you. I know you're busy, but I miss when you'd write back to me. But even so, I hope this letter finds you well -Trey, your knight."

Yuma feels guilty, he can't keep ignoring these. He wants to write back, but he's labored, ever so labored.

The piles upon piles of her letters sitting in the corner of his room makes him dizzy. Suddenly, out came a noise; a sigh so soft, suffused with ache.

"Today's sunset was beautiful. It reminds me of you, almost. Even when it came to be nighttime, I did not want to close my curtains just yet. I open the window, and the warm spring air floats in. The pie I left to cool on the downstairs windowsill isn't hot anymore. I hoped you'd come, rushing downstairs to see if you'd taken a piece for yourself, but you hadn't. But it is okay. I wrapped it in parchment, hopefully you'll come over soon, so we can share it before it spoils. I have never more wanted to see you than I do now; just to sit and look at you, at least. But, my eldest brother always taught me that It is shameful to beg. I hope this letter finds you well. -Trey, your knight."

Her words make Yuma's heart skip a beat, he still remembers when they first met. Yuma snuck out of the castle again, opening up his window and running past the guards before they could catch up with him.

He wanted to get dirty, have fun, to run away from all of his responsibilities. Even if he was seen as a disgrace, and exiled without a word, it still would have been worth it. But, there he was, in the middle of a field of berries that he'd become lost in.

It was like Déjà vu. When he was just about 8, he'd gotten lost picking berries with Tori, the girl he'd known since he was in diapers. It was just like this all over again, he didn't know how to navigate himself, and could only pass the time by eating the ripe bushels of blackberries. But, this time, it was like nobody was coming to find him. His dad always told him about the creatures he'd saw during his travels, but Yuma never thought he'd see one himself.

Its claws were digging into his arms, pinning him down as he thrashed and screamed. He thought he was going to die, only to be left as a stray pile of blood and clothes. But the wretched creature screeched, Yuma peering his head over to see a sword stuck in its back.

It's Trey. She's beautiful. Her hair is so short he was sure she at first a man, but he doesn't have time to think about it.

When she's done slaying the beast, she kisses his hand, "Are you alright?", concern fills her pretty, androgynous voice.

No one's done this before, Yuma's blushing and can't even form a coherent sentence. But, he doesn't need to, because Trey puts him back on his feet and escorts him back to the kingdom after treating his wounds.

"I'm fine, I swear!"

"No you're not, just look at how you're bleeding! I'm only doing this in your best interest, your highness."

She's persistent. Trey refuses to leave him alone, insisting a good knight wouldn't leave until they're sure that everything is fine. Yuma can't even sleep that night, he wants to see her again.

There's so much burning in his chest, he rifles through his desk to find a piece of paper to finally write back to her. Sure, he doesn't write in any of those pretty fonts or as flowery, or poetically as her, but he needs too, he HAS TOO.

He has to be honest with her.

"I'm sorry for not getting back to you sooner, it's been a lot lately. But I need to tell you something. It's hard to find the words, I thought of saying that I fell in love with you, but no. Falling is an accident. No, I ran aggressively towards my love for you, and I cannot keep ignoring it. There are so many things I could tell you, but they all just dissolve in my throat. It's dark now, and I'm very tired. I'll love you forever, always. Time is nothing when I'm with you.

-Yuma, your prince."

Yuma gives it to his courier and falls into his bed, he should have done this so log ago, but now it's done.

-

In the morning, he's given a letter. It's from Trey. Did she manage to respond that quickly? She's always been amazing, Yuma shouldn't be surprised.

"I'm glad you told me, and don't be sorry, your personal affairs come before our letters. But, I need to tell you as well, I feel just the same. I cannot continue to water myself down so you don't catch on. You utterly pierce my soul, there's no other way to describe it. No matter what kind of future it will be, I’ll always find you. Come to the cottage, my brothers won't be there. I'll be waiting for you. -Trey, your knight."

And so Yuma does, opening up the window and sneaking out once more. Trey is waiting for him inside, and he runs in her arms. There are no words, the both of them know what they want. He kisses her softly, Treys lips are ever so soft.

"I have some new recipes I'd like to bake with you."

"That would be lovely."

[stubborngods]

hehe time for bnha canon infodump because they are. on the brain at all times forever :DDD once again under the cute because i will ramble

as a resident izuku kinnie, none of you should be surprised that bakugou katuski is my favorite mha character EVER. this is my BOY. anyways. i have issues with his parents. you can disagree with me but i simply do not like them, they kind of remind me too much of my own parents and so. yeah. i am not a mitsuki & masaru safe space. anyways!! katsuki canon trans man. only uses he/him pronouns, call him anything else and you will get your face blown up. losing his hearing because of his quirk - i know that his body would be partially resistant to the effects of his quirk but he's been exploding this for going on twleve years at this point in canon and i don't believe he's IMMUNE to how loud his quirk is. learned jsl as a small child just because he knew it was an enviably that he would probably loose his hearing one day; has hearing aids but they're the same color as his skin and hair so they blend in really well, and also has them built into his face covering for his hero costume. currently trying to learn asl but that shit is hard okay. still trying though because he refuses to be a failure. cooking is both his coping mechanism and his love language. if he cooks for you, you better feel SO special because he doesn't do that shit for just anybody, okay? all might stan at heart but the whole... hero worship thing has sort of faded recently. it's kind of sad. its okay tho best jeanist can be his new favorite hero. also he is a middle child in my canon i hope this explains everything (he has an older sister who's actually his aunt, an older brother, and a younger sister btw)

miss fukudoka emi the real and true loml foreverever and always. straight up if she was real i would marry her. ANYWAYS! they/she pronoun user but honestly, anything is fine as long as it fits the joke. anything for the bit. emi is definitly that type of person. SO! backstory wise, she's the only bio kid of the fukudoka family, but when she's around eight or so, her parents start fostering yamada hizashi and then adopt him two years later when she's ten and he's thirteen. bestie starts attending ketsubutsu academy high school when she's fifteen, and graduates from there at nineteen, becoming a student aid and eventually a teacher for ketsubatsu's hero courses. also they have two hands and lots of love to give everyone please love her she's kind of lonely khfklg. and she likes to flirt with their brother-in-law but in a funny way. and yes they do consider hizashi to be their brother, what do you they are SIBLINGS? can't you see the RESEMBLANCE? i don't have any more coherent thoughts about her but side pov imagine you are aizawa shouta. you have known this bitch /aff since she was like tweleve and she's still flirting with you almost two decades later. you are so tired of her shit.

shinsou hitoshi has no gender, we should really start there, uses they/them pronouns ONLY. they're fr Just A Guy but in a gender neutral type of way. childhood was kind of fucked up for reasons outside of their control - their quirk manifesting was a Bad Point in their lives - so they got put into foster care at a very young age and just kind of... stayed in the system until they were around fourteen. they were fostered and then adopted by erasermic because i said so. i don't have very many thoughts about them in canon rn because a lot of my thoughts about them are for like... future aus, where they're already a pro-hero (they are an underground hero called syren btw hehe) but they're literally just vibing i'm not gonna lie.

okay and last but not least, my beloved yamada hizashi. another canon trans man, another case of whatever pronoun is funniest for the bit but maybe not she/her thanks. as mentioned in emi's little paragraph, he was adopted by the fukudoka family when he was 13, but before that he had been in foster care since birth tbh. half-american, half-japanese; his father was a pro-hero from america who left his mom and the entire country of japan when she found out she was pregnant and then when he was born, his qirk activated and he deafened both his birth mother and all the medical staff in the room. had a pretty rough time of it tbh, was muffled/put on quirk suppressants a lot to keep from accidently deafening anyone else and so didn't speak for very long periods of his early life. learned jsl as achild to be able to communicate at all. started transitioning after getting adopted at 13, changed his name to hizashi from his deadname, and just kinda existed tbh. we know all the canon things that happen to him as a teenager. my base canon for him is that he's married to aizawa, but that doesn't have to be the case for plotting and stuff. just know that's the default.

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

https://www.tumblr.com/struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor/730187698504171520/hi-there-its-the-muggle-thanks-for-the?source=share

You explained it so very well here. I get jungkook's irritation by constantly getting babied by this big fandom (wish that could change) but he also has to understand that a part of the fandom has seen him grow from like 15-16 years to 26 years now so they do see him as a younger boy than other members. And the fandom also needs to understand that he's grown up and for someone that age it is frustrating when you hear it again and again. Idt the image is gonna change suddenly but hope people work on it (the fandom).

Tbh i never got the choreo for my time like i always think that it does not suit the lyrics of the songs. Good thing many don't know korean so when you hear the song with that music without knowing the lyrics it sounds a sexy song and not some deep meaning song.

Won't comment on seven and 3D cause that's not my cup of tea so yeah

I hope he does realises that there's better way to form the image he wants to form infact I'll say it will be just like how he wants if he actually releases songs like his other solo songs. I love all of his solo songs. He's a great artist, capable of alot of things. A seven one time is fine but a 3D in a row is mehhh. Those lyrics definitely won't give you the image you want it but your own songs like swy, my time, euphoria, decalcomania etc.

We honestly don't have a problem with fun loving songs but if you gonna throw "i wanna fk you" kind of lyrics every two sentence then....

And yes he does loves it when someone calls him cool and sexy. I have been noticing it since like two years now cause he's been mentioning that he wants to get compliment as cool from two years now.

Then there's jimin like you call him cute and he'll fold cutely and will act more like cutie pattootie.

Tbh, it's not just about him growing up in front of us (even if not in real time). Fandoms like this naturally have jealous and possessive fans, and some fans are less than mature about it. Him being babied is partially the result of him being the maknae, but there are other factors. If RM and Suga were the ones caught smoking it wouldn't be an issue, and a dating "scandal" wouldn't be as big of a deal, so it's always worse for Jungkook, but fans reacting badly to normal stuff is just part of being an idol. That's why Jungkook's plan to look more "mature" so fans see him that way is flawed. Suga has a "rougher" image so he can "get away" with more, but he's also less popular. The maknae line's considerable popularity over the hyung line's more than half the reason why things are always worse for them. It goes beyond having an innocent image.

The thing with Jimin, though, is that he's always been "cutie, sexy, lovely". His cuteness is also sexy. Jimin is the cutest, but his resting face is serious and mature. He's always been very thoughtful, flirty, sometimes savage, and headcanoned a Slytherin. Jimin was never babied like Jungkook. He likes being called cute and leans into it, but he knows fans are always losing it over him being sexy and calling him hot. His duality is well know and he isn't at all defined or limited by being the number 1 cutie - there's power in being cute and Jimin likes that power and uses it to his advantage (to tease and please the fans). It's also different with Jimin because in the beginning he acted a bit tough and manly, and shared how freeing it was to just be himself and drop the act. To him being cute and babied is funny and flattering, though when fans take it too far he sets them straight. It's different from Jungkook because he wasn't forced to rip his shirt off on stage as a 17 or 18 year old rookie like Jimin, who developed a reputation for being sexy...

I'm too tired for my reply to be coherent, but thanks for the ask!

[inkwell-and-dagger]

[Forsaken Souls: Escape]

A/N: if you didn't already know, there's new Forsaken Souls lore!! this is solely for Rayan now officially being in his Recovery Arc™, also referencing the new Survivors member, Ivy Xiomara!! also Vantè and Vesker belong to @paranoia-exe!!!

CW: successful escape attempts, mention of blood / wounds, homelessness, stealing / shoplifting uhh you know the spiel, kinda manipulation, brief mention of starvation and dehydration

DYNAMICS:

The Survivors (Foster (they/them), Esrana (she/her), Ezra (he/xem/they), Madir (he/him)) — Whumper(s)

Zayn (he/they), Ivy (she/he/they/xir) — Past Caretaker + Carewhumper

Rayan (he/it) — Immortal Whumpee

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Rayan had finally done it. Escaped. He ran, and ran, and ran, and as much as he knew freedom was finally his to take, a lingering and barely coherent thought in the back of his mind told him that they'd still come after him. They always do.

He wasn't thinking; he should've gone back to Maddie's, or— or at least Vantè's or Vesk's, Hell, he should've gone straight to the hospital for all the wounds that hadn't had time to properly heal over. But he knew they would eventually. They had to — otherwise, well... Rayan was fucked.

So, he ran past Madison's house, didn't even think to go to Vantè's or Vesker's either. He didn't even consider going to the hospital. Ignoring the looks people would give him as he stumbled and hurried past; he knew that seeing a dishevelled 35 year old man, blood coating his clothes, running down the street was not exactly a normal sight anyway.

He didn't know where he was when he finally stopped. Everything was so... new. So bright, so happy. Rayan didn't like it; it was overwhelming. But he was too exhausted to go further away.

-> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> ->

He spent weeks there. Weeks, hiding in whatever alleyways he deemed safe enough, or sometimes a more friendly stranger would pass and offer him a bed to sleep in for that night or a good meal or two and a shower. Rayan would accept out of pure politeness, but would always get out before the stranger had woken up the next day.

He had learnt a lot of things. One of them being that The Survivors — even mentioning the group name made him shudder — had been arrested after Zayn had called the cops on them. Good for him. However, the fact that, somehow, Esrana had escaped the police with Zayn in tow was unnerving. He should've listened to that thought in the background of the incoherent rambles going on in his mind. He should have gone back, and accepted the fact that there? There, he will be the safest from harm, because harm was right above him. Right above him, above the basement he'd grown so used to. In the handles of the knives displayed in the basement, in the discarded bloodied gloves, in the rope used to bind him if he got too squirmy. Right there, they made him believe he was safe.

Another thing being that he was finally labelled as a missing person. He wondered why the few people who had taken him in for a night or two hadn't recognized him as that man. But, he couldn't blame them; even when he looked in the mirror, he didn't recognize the sunken, tired eyes staring back at him. The trembling in his legs when he was to stand was somehow foreign to him, the shaking of his hands holding packs of cigarettes and what little food he could properly find in his exhausted daze. But even then, he somehow remained starved, his throat remained dry and oh god it hurt to move so so much why couldn't he just die like a normal perso—

He heard voices. Synchronized footsteps, no doubt going to pass him in a couple moments.

"I— I dunno, mum..."

A sigh. "...Have some hope, Vee. Please, we— we can't give up on him."

"I'm just— I'm sore, 'nd hungry, I— I dunno"

"We can stop by the nearest store soon and get some rest and something to eat, okay? Just— he can't be dead, obviously—"

Rayan instinctively hissed at them as the figures passed, the noise sounding hoarse in his throat. He clutched his pack of cigarettes tighter, fumbling for a lighter; he'd sworn he had it on him. He recognized those voices. And the silhouettes...

One of them took a step back. Long, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, sharp horns and a tail to match... "Forget I said anything." And... that voice. Irish? Most likely.

The other voice was Irish too, with an accent the exact same to his. Shoulder length brown hair, glasses, uhm...

It took him a moment to finally understand. Vantè and Madison.

Madison's face lit up, meanwhile Vantè held hesitant uncertainty in his expression.

"...Ray!"

—> —> —> —> —> —>

[ghostussy]

I don’t know what you mean, I’m not crying or having a mental breakdown?! I beg of you, I’m pleading on my knees you just can’t see it. Please write how reader falls limp into the ghouls and papas arms when they realize they found a safe person. Is this self insert? Yes, yes it is. I’m

Because then I can put my headphones on and put it on full volume. Then the world disappears and his soft voice soothes me, his voice tells me that it will be alright. The way he simply sounds let’s me know that he cares that I’m even alive. In my closed eyes, I see him, imagine what it would be like to hug him. I wonder how the air will feel once I’m near him. It’s comforting enough knowing he’s real. I don’t need him to say my name or do anything. Just being in his presence makes me feel safe. I need to feel safe, I want to, I want to go limp in someone’s arms. I’m tired of keeping my guard up. I’m just exhausted of being *the one* I don’t want to think about me being hurt because of my gender or who I love. I don’t want to think about anything besides how good his gentle eyes feel on my heart, and how safe I feel. Safe enough to sleep for once, safe enough to let him hug me, safe enough to stay there, safe enough to let him caress my skin until I’m getting real sleep, safe enough to not hide any scars or be ashamed of things I’ve done to myself.

Yeah, sorry I really am…uh, but you did say you write comfort…..

Honey, you don't have to plead on your knees for me. The ground is probably pretty dusty anyways. ;)

On a more serious note, I bumped this up in my queue because I definitely think you could use a pick me up. I'm sorry it's kind of short, but I wanted to get it out tonight. I would like to revisit this topic in the future, though.

I'm sorry you're feeling this way. I almost hate to admit it, but I understand how you feel. I know life is hard. It's even harder when you're dealing with things not many (if any) people know about.

I hope things get better. I hope life is kinder to you. And if you ever need anything, my DMs are open. <3

I wish you a life of healing and happiness!

TW under the cut.

. . .

"Dolce? What's wrong?"

"Um," you're not sure how to respond. Hands shaking, voice cracking, tears in your eyes; the familiar pain in your chest inhibits your ability to breathe and speak. You feel the pressure building up in your body, from the pressure of expecting too much and working too hard and stretching too thin-

"Y/n?" there's an urgency to his voice.

"Oh. Sorry, papa." Your voice is unsteady, shaking.

He steps closer. "That does not answer my question. What ails you?"

"It's...nothing." You're trying desperately to convince yourself and him that it truly is nothing, but you're failing miserably.

He sees the tears in your eyes. His gaze softens, a soft exhale escaping his lips as he addresses your disheveled state. He opens his arms wide. "Vieni qui," he calls softly, and you step closer while still keeping your distance.

"It's alright, little one. You look like you need to be held."

A choked sob forces it's way through your chest and out your mouth. You step even closer and unceremoniously fall straight into his arms. He catches you, like a stone wall holding a fallen tree that's suffered one too many storms.

You go completely limp, sobs now wracking your exhausted body as you cry desperately into his chest. He lowers the two of you onto the ground, pulling you to lean against him. He tries to comfort you, but worries it is not enough.

He rubs your back, the flat palm of his hand tracing shapes in an attempt to distract you. "It's okay, darling, I've got you. You're safe, you're safe now. Your papa's here, and he's going to keep you safe. Nothing can hurt you." He uses his other hand to sift through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. You still find yourself to form any coherent thoughts or words; just violent sobbing as you desperately try to recover from so much trauma.

"Shh, baby, it's alright," he says, rocking you back and forth, "Your papa's got you. You're safe, and so loved. I love you." He catches a glimpse at your arm, adorned with self-inflicted scars.

"I'm sorry," you manage, filled with shame and guilt.

"Shh, stop talking. Let's allow papa to do the speaking, si? I don't want to hear another apology from your mouth." You nod, fat tears still streaming down your cheeks in a steady line.

"Now, I need you to listen.

You, all of you, are loved. Every last bit, even if you don't think so. You are wanted. And most importantly, you are safe. No harm will ever come to you here. Ever. Do you understand?"

You nod again, the tears beginning to slow. The sobs have stopped, and you're feeling the exhaustion creep in again.

"Good." The rocking slows to a stop, and he continues. "Now, here's what's going to happen; we're going into the ghouls' den. We're both going to lie down in the nest with the ghouls, and you're going to allow yourself to be coddled and held until long after you've fallen asleep. Then in the morning, we will discuss what has caused this, si?"

You weakly nod.

"Alright." He gathers you in his arms before moving to stand. He's gentle, nurturing as he guides your head to lie against his chest. You yawn into his chest, a few remaining tears escaping your eyes.

When you arrive in the den, you see the ghouls have already settled down for the night. They're all cuddled up in a pile, but they welcome the two of you in.

Aether rises to help settle you in. He's gentle as he lowers you into the soft bed of pillows and blankets, watching the way your head lulls.

"What happened?" He questions, yellow eyes watching Papa for a response.

"Later," he responds, "for now let's get them tucked in."

And they do. It isn't long before you're cozied up with the rest of the ghouls; and they are determined to get you and Papa to sleep as fast as possible.

You're on your side, tucked into the crook of Papa's arm. He's cradling you as someone rubs your back, another plays with your hair, and he's humming quietly. You listen to his gruff voice reverberate through his chest, allowing the vibrations to lull you into sleep. Fatigue courses through your body, making it easy to fall asleep.

Suddenly, he pulls you closer. He stops humming briefly to press a kiss to your forehead, and you nuzzle into his chest.

"Thank you, papa..." your voice trails off into a yawn.

"Prego, cara." He also yawns, but despite his weariness he waits for you to rest first. "Rest your eyes now." He resumes humming.

You sigh into his chest, following his instructions and allowing your eyes to close. You yawn again, then sleepily wrap your arms around his middle. He adjusts the blankets up to your chin, allowing you to bask in the warmth and safety he provides.

You feel sleep tug on your mind, and you don't resist. The last thing you remember before slipping away is being held lovingly, while surrounded by several warm, purring ghouls.

[princessnotfound]

🦴 🦷 🩸📢🤼‍♀️

Together or separate those prompts

🦴 Bones 🦷 Teeth 🩸 Blood 📢 Yelling/Screaming 🤼‍♀️ Fighting/Wrestling

C/W // Whump ahead ! ! ! (little blood mention)

(2/7)

“I don’t have time for this,” George says, though his mouth feels awfully dry. The darkness moves in circles around him. Vultures. “Give me my phone back.” He wishes he wasn’t intoxicated. Deciphering what words are being spoken would be so much easier if there wasn’t such a thick fog in his mind. He is, however, coherent enough to place the mockery in their voices. Liquor has sparks flickering by an incredibly short fuse and George finds that he is already considerably frustrated. Patience does not come easy while he stands with his hand outstretched, expecting his phone to be returned. Waiting to feel warmed metal in the palm of his hand.

Instead, he is met with quite the opposite. Something thuds against the ground along with a deafening shatter. Electrical components scatter. George nearly snaps when the remains of his phone clatter against his own shoes, but there are hands reaching for him again. Surprise stifles the words gathering at the back of his throat -- talons sink deep enough into his skin until his flesh feels too constricting around his bones. Trying to wrench himself away from unknown faces does little to nothing, given his lack of experience in the self-defense department.

Who the hell do these people think they are? The flesh between his brows furrows into puzzled irritation and he hisses a sharp, "get off me."

If this is some sort of practical joke, he isn't at all in the mood. Not when his mind is half-gone, drowned beneath seas of vivid intoxication. Struggling in the grip of others unbeknownst to him. If he thinks hard enough, though his head pounds at the strain, he thinks he may have caught glimpses of their faces during the spring party. Liquor and smoke rolls off all of them in waves and he has to scrunch his nose up in distaste. He concludes that they must be students. What that means for him, though, he isn't sure. "I don't know what you find so funny about this but I am not in the mood right now," he grumbles. If anything, he's far more whiny than afraid. "Can we do this another time or something, I'm literally so tired and I can barely even think straight honestly--"

Knuckles crack against the side of his face. That is the wake-up call he needed to comprehend that this, unlike the rest of the night's events, is not a game. The nails digging crescents into his skin, and the blossoming bruise over his cheek, is very much real. Suddenly, his writhing becomes a lot more eager.

George fights his captors for freedom all while a gutteral yell pours from his throat. It is not a word nor a phrase, but it calls for help wherever it travels. Flailing, kicking and screaming does not seem to do as much as he hoped it would. Flimsy fingers hover around his head to search for and cover his mouth, but he does not allow for it. He sinks his teeth into the first sight of flesh in front of him. Deep enough to let spots of blood gather where his teeth refuse to let go; they should be damn grateful he chose not to tear a chunk off.

"I'm," he breathes, parting from torn skin and spitting blood onto concrete, "not going to ask again."

Confidence is false. The waver in his voice isn’t as well hidden as he hoped it’d be.

It's easier to see in the darkness, now, but that doesn't make recognizing these strangers any easier. He doesn't know them beyond their appearance and their attendance at the party. When one of them reels a fist back, George fails to jolt back before the sound of bones cracking against his face blows his eyes wide. Violet flowers slowly sprout from his skin and rose seeds spill from his nose.

[thefanbasewhore]

I'll be there

summary: bucky shows you how much he loves you after you get shot.

content: reader gets shot, blood and gore, fluff, angst

paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

The moment the bullets pierce the air Bucky's breath hitches. Time slows as they gush of air rushes past his cheeks but his eyes follow the line as they pierce your skin.

One to the chest and another to the stomach as Bucky let's out a gasp, baring his teeth as the metal hand wraps the gunman's throat and squeezes until the bones crack under the pressure. Bucky can't snap his neck fast enough as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

"Jesus, hey, hey." The way your eyes flicker weakly makes his stomach twist in knots. Sickness threatens at the back of his throat as band squish your cheeks with just enough pressure to have the lazy, half closed eyes meet his own. "Stay up, look at me."

He watches the way you deny him, shaking your head as you cup his wrist to try and push him off. "I'm tired, I -"

"No sleeping, sweetheart. Help is coming, keep your eyes on me, please." Tears threaten his eyes as he applies pressure to your chest but blood seeps out from the gasps of his fingers.

Heart stammering inside the chamber of his chest, the loud pump of blood can be heard in his ears as he applies more pressure. "Buck -."

Despite feeling relieved at the fact that could speak it quickly slips away. The pallor skin and fading color drains from your lips, it's nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. "Tell me where it hurts, honey. Stop closing your eyes."

The whole town is leveled, civilians and officers screams fill the air. The first pierce of sirens fill the air with sudden relief. He pleads for you to stay awake, yelling towards a group of responders.

"No, I don't feel anything." The words burn his chest as your eyes flicker weakly. It's hard to breath, steel blues eyes swelling with tears as he shakes his head, bottom lip quivering, "You need to stay right here. The ambulance is almost here."

His hand lifts from the open wound that pains your abdomen and the gush of blood had never stopped, it spurts and pools but he's pressing his hand again in hopes someone will arrive soon.

"I love you, Bucky. You know that right?"

Bucky's breath hitches but he nods his head. "Of course I do, sweet girl and I love you but you're going to tell me later, yeah?"

He watches the weak nod but eyes betray you, slowly closing and he shakes his head as he cups your cheek. "Hey, what did I say? Look at me, stat awake."

The rustling and chatter went unnoticed but the medics drop to their knees asking Bucky to keep the pressure. His voice is harsh and stern and if it wasn’t for your current state it would be concerning, feel as if you did something to upset him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I can never be mad at you.” He lies, if these were your last few minutes on earth he wanted them to be filled with love. For now he could hide the growing ball of rage that warmed his belly, he could hold his tongue from telling you not to do your job.

“I can never be mad you, sweetheart.” He confirms it again, almost like it’s for himself. So lost in the feel of blood soaking his glove and sleeve. He gaze meets the medics who nods and on the count of three Bucky let's go and the medical team jumps into action.

He takes a second to look over all the chaos and destruction, a town blown to bits. When he looks back his heart drops, noticing the way your shoulder slump, chin against your chest. Eyes shut and relaxed and suddenly Bucky's world turns upside down.

He can barely see straight, the medical team is yelling something but he just can't make it out. A hand shoves his chest but his vision blurs and a pair of hands grab his wrists. "Are you alright, Sergeant?"

“Fuck, fuck.” he whispers pushing the hands away, "Don't worry about me, help her!"

The blood has started to clot around the wound to form dark red scabs but there’s so much blood - too much, but despite what the logical part of his brain says there’s no possible way you can live, he watches intensely.

Cutting your shirt down the middle with ease to clear the way from the gun wound but he notices the jump of your chest, laboring breath.

Bucky doesn't breath until he hears the words, "Heart beat is steady, bleeding is under control. We need to get her to the hospital."

***

A low light of the hospital flickers with a buzz, the white light shinning to naturally highlight the points of your face. Bucky leans forward while fiddling with his fingers, every once in a while peering up to look at you - eyes closed with a look of peace etched across your features.

The machines beeps have become sort of a security for him, after a few days it meant one thing. He's exactly where he needs to be; with you.

Bucky hasn't left the spot next to the bed for days, unless it was for a shower or a coffee. Sam had tried multiple times just take him out for something to eat or get fresh air but Bucky refused. He needs to be there when you woke.

All those days of sadness and isolation were worth it the moment he watched those beautiful lashes flicker against the smooth skin of your cheek bones. Wild eyes find his own and he's up from his seat, cupping your cheek as he presses his lips against your forehead, "It's okay, you're okay. I'm right here, honey."

The mix of aniexty and fear slowly starts to dissipate away as the familar scent of Bucky washes over you - his warm skin pressing against your own as he plants a kiss against your cheek with a soft sigh. A hand cups the back of your head and softly plays with a stray strand of hair as he stares down at you, "You scared me there."

He watches as those eyes widen with disbelief, hands pressing against your chest and down your abdomen to feel the bandages around them. "You're okay - everything is fine now."

You watch the way he swallows, tears filling his eyes as leans forward to press his lips against your own, saying the words one more time like it's more for himself. "You're okay doll."

He manages to smile, one that makes your heart flutter has cups your cheek again. "Don't ever do that again. You scared me - I didn't know what I would have done."

"I couldn't just let her -."

"No more jumping in front of guns, promise me." He warns, but by the way his chest hitches, he needs to hear it.

"I promise, Bucky."

He nods softly, climbing onto the bed until there's just enough room for the both of you. "I thought I would never see these beautiful eyes again, i would never hear your voice again."

Warm, soft lips press against your cheeks and up the side of your face as his fingers curl against your scalp, "I never loved someone like I do you, I need you. Don't ever do that again."

[yuedama]

zoom misadventures

dom!armin x f!reader

synopsis : teasing armin proved to have more dire consequences than you thought.

or, sex with armin while attending a zoom class.

content : nsfw, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), degradation, teensy bit of exhibitionism, creampie, overstimulation

notes : every time i see armin i either wanna engulf him in a tight hug or go feral; no in between. also, i haven't proofread this cos m too tired and my brain is literally fried as fuck pls forgive me for any typos π﹏π

the sound of your professor's voice fell upon deaf ears as you sat on armin's lap, stuffed full of his cock. your concentration was on anything but the lecture, mind foggy and unable to form a coherent thought, the only one occupying it being armin.

it had been a bad idea to tease him during one of his classes, crawling between his knees and giving him kitty licks, running your tongue on the underside of his shaft and cupping his balls as he recited like the good model student he was. damn bastard didn't even miss a beat in his explanation. despite how much you gagged on his cock and how much your eyes watered, he let out no reaction aside from gripping your hair harshly.

“ms. y/n are you there?” the question barely registered in your mind, you could only gape at your screen, unable to mutter a response.

“answer his question, slut,” armin mutters in your ear after a harsh thrust, the force of his hips upwards causing you to grip the edges of your table til your knuckles turned white.

“i'm here, sir!” you replied, the pitch of your voice high due to the frustration, fingers shaking as it hovered over the keys. an exasperated gasp left your lips once you've muted the mic. god, you just wanted this to be over.

armin had been sheathed inside you the whole duration of your class, yet he made little to no effort to give you the satisfaction you badly craved, only sitting back and letting his cock pulsate against your walls. he was rock hard, you could tell, no feel him inside you, and it frustrated you to no end just how much self-control the blonde had.

while it seemed like you were about to lose it as the only thing you could do was grip his length and let your juices coat him, he seemed to break no sweat in staying inside you with no movement. perhaps you could blame your sensitivity on the previous orgasm you had on his tongue.

“well, you don't seem very much present today, is everything alright?” the idle questions only seemed to be nagging at this point. “we can't see you either.”

shit. you quickly thought of an excuse to brush off his comment, though armin only gave you a chuckle at your predicament, watching you with hooded eyes as he leaned back on the chair, causing his hips to move a bit.

“i-i'm good, sir. must be technical d-difficulties.”

the middle aged man seemed to buy your excuse and proceeded with his lesson; you could only cross your fingers and hope he doesn't bother you anymore.

“not only are you a dirty slut, but you're also a liar,” armin seethed into your ear, his grip on your hips tightening, most likely to leave bruises later on. “why don't you tell them how much of a whore you are, all desperate and needy for my dick.”

“n-no way,” you panted out as you squirmed on his thighs.

armin scoffed and started rolling his hips, just enough for you to feel the slow dragging of his member inside you. “what do you think they'll think when they see you right now.”

“h-hng...” your voice quivered in fear of that happening, eyes widening as the worst case scenarios played in your head— the fluttering of your walls around him betrayed you however. “they'll think of how i'm a-a slut.”

he was satisfied with your answer, pride swelling in his chest at what you had said. lithe fingers found its way to your chin and turned your head towards him, making your eyes meet his pust glazed cerulean ones. “well, aren't you?”

another harsh thrust. armin couldn't get enough of the whimpers and wails you let out at his teasing. he loved how you sat there and waited for what he was about to give you, merely looking at him with glossy eyes in hopes of getting what you so badly craved for.

“aren't you my slut?” armin stared at you expectantly, starting to pick up a pace as he thrusted into you.

“yes, armin, i'm your slut,” you cried out, though his grip on your cheek forced you to open your mouth and slur your words slightly. you could feel your impending orgasm starting to build up, every delicious grind of his hips only bringing you closer.

sobs left your lips as you finally felt your release washing over you, the sensation making you quiver on top of him, though armin was far from done. the blonde snickered at your state, though he soon lost his own composure as he rutted into you faster, setting an animalistic pace as he neared his high.

“a-ah fuck, i'm near—”

his lips met yours in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing and drool spilling down the corners of your lips. the sound of your walls squelching around him pushed him further, til he released his seed insde you, driving you delirious for you could feel another orgasm coming. you shuddered at the warmth, walls pulsing around armin as he stopped.

you opened your lips to speak, plead, but his fingers were quick to find your erect bud and roll it around his fingers. your toes immediately curled at the stimulation, and soon he began thrusting his once again hard cock into you.

you were a dripping mess, both of your fluids running down your thighs, you could only babble at how good you felt, though you weren't too sure yourself what you were saying anymore. your nails clawed at his arms to ground yourself, proving to do very little as your mind turned to mush. ragged breaths echoed in the room along with lewd noises of his length filling you repeatedly.

having had your priorities set straight, it was safe to say classes for the day had been forgotten about.

[jacks-obsessions]

Moth Risotto: Winter

Winter, not your favorite but not your least favorite either, it was just winter, but for Risotto it seemed to be rather inconvenient to say the least. He became less active and didn't eat nearly as much as he used to, he just stayed in your bed and didn't even really react to you, and you were worried to say the least. So you found yourself at your computer looking up what little information there was on mothmen to see if you could find out what was wrong with him, but you ended up just looking up stuff about normal moths. Didn't really help you out too much though, other than learning how to get rid of clothes moths, so you hoped you could just ask him what was wrong, but Risotto was still pretty scary to confront. He still was 6'8" and able to break a bear trap with ease, you weren't about to make him angry.

In the end you crept into your dark room where he was covered in a mountain of blankets, you don't know how he even got them, and you were sure he was asleep so you began to back out of the room before freezing at the feeling of being watched. You gathered the courage to look in the direction of the feeling and there was Risotto, watching you, with this intense but tired stare. "Is something wrong?" His voice was heavy with sleep and you could tell he was barely awake even though he was doing a good job of acting like he was. "I was worried about you, you haven't been eating very much, and-" He cut you off suddenly. "I'm fine. The cold just makes me tired." Oh, okay, that makes sense, you nodded. "Is there anything I can do?" You asked, you can swear you saw a slight smile when you asked that.

"Your warmth would help." He said with a straight face, you felt a little nervous at that, was he coherent? Did he understand that this was kind of awkward? Did he care? Unbeknownst to you he was just as nervous, as he technically didn't need your warmth, but he also wanted an excuse to have you close to him so a little nervousness was worth it. You didn't want to be rude so you ended up climbing into bed with him, it was like you got into bed with a boa constrictor, his arms wrapped around you faster than you could blink and you were pulled into his chest. His larger body curled around you and a deep, soothing rumbling vibrated against your back. You could feel your face heating up, along with the rest of your body, he was so warm! Your head was pressed into the fur around his neck, which smelled amazing, and you were suddenly so tired too.

"Ris, is it okay if I rest my eyes?" You muttered before yawning, he just hummed in response to your question and you couldn't see him smiling. His half awake plan worked! He got to hold you in his arms! Once he was sure you were asleep he curiously sniffed at your hair, you always smelled good from afar so he wanted to see what you smelled like up close. Your scent was very calming, and he loved it, he ran his fingers through your hair as he thought about what it would be like to have this be a regular thing. That was something he hoped you thought as well.

To be continued...

[b-blushes]

i am very actively practicing being neutral or positive about things (not in a toxic positivity way though, i love having learned to cry about things just for the catharsis, it's truly great to be able to feel feelings), but one thing that consistently is extremely hard to do that about is being ill 24/7. Like. gradually becoming less able to concentrate before becoming unwell to the point where it's hard to talk (type, because i'm not seeing anyone in person) to friends bc my head's swimming too much and becoming painful so fast (even this far into this post!!!!) and i can't keep a coherent trail of thought because Something Begins To Happen To My Brain. Even now i've forgotten what i'm saying but i hate keeping it to myself always so. Anyway it sucks being sick always and potentially feeling like you're getting worse and not understanding the mechanisms of your illnesses and not being able to access proper and multidisciplinary diagnosis or in-depth discussion with clinicians. I am always holding out hope that the next doctor i see will be the one who is thorough and patient and has heard of the symptoms and conditions i'm trying to talk to them about. maybe there's something that will help me some day or that even if i can't improve more than i have there's someone out there that can help me understand it and make it a bit less horrifying when i have days/weeks of worsening weakness or can't think/write/'talk' straight! big picture i'm fine and functioning and will regain the brain power to talk to my friends properly again! (I am willing into being) but there's *so many things* i want to do but just can't because i can't keep my brain on track for long enough. for months/years i've been wanting to get back into making videos but can't write/edit words/film/edit footage for relibably long enough to make a video that expresses the fleeting feelings i want to string together to actually *say something* about it other than 'i'm sick' or 'X helps me' i want to dig my teeth into things so badly but just cannot!!!!! because i'm sick and The Symptoms! Like. I'm fine it's just been hot today and i suspect i might have a condition that explains why that means i've been extra ill but yet again i can't yet find a doctor who will help with it and sometimes the only thing i can do is say 'yes it sucks to be Sick Always and to be stuck in the same place because there is no 'getting better'' Tomorrow or maybe even in a few minutes i'll be okay and excited for things again, just, this is 5 minutes of that post that's like 'actually i'm not being so brave about it aaaaaaah!', and my friends, i don't know how to speak to you about it directly because it's just so big and mostly i (like us all) are broadly fine and safe and coping and maybe it sucks to make it a public post but maybe you feel the same and it helps a little to know someone else is in it too, like it's less of a loss? big picture i am fine small picture i'm sick of being sick and while this is not a helpful for a community post in the sense of having much productive to do maybe you are also tired of being privately unwell and having it together as best you can all the time. i'm gonna go and make dinner for myself and practice caring for myself and remember all the good and improvements there have been! And i hope anyone else who's having a 'actually i'm not being so brave about it' time can also do a tiny thing to make some sort of small easing of Everything for yourself <3

[huntective-kyeo]

❗Warning❗ TYPOS, SPELLING, AND GRAMMAR. And English is not my first language. Kinda angry hehehe

This is my first time to post it here and I hope you like it. Feel free to criticize my writing so I can improve.

So enjoy.

FIRST FANFIC

My Father is Dean Winchester

Dean POV

I sat down on the chair and open the lid of the beer. It's been hectic two weeks. Sam and I hunt a witch in Colorado and it took us a week to find the witch and killed it. That witch got Sam to bruise his ankle, and a concussion but thankfully nothing major injuries that needed stitches and so. Most of all the sonavabitch wore witch almost touch and probably hex my Baby which I did make her pay for it.

All in all, it took us a few days to get back at the bunker and now I'm sitting on the chair, probably wanted to eat some pies and get drunk.

My thoughts interrupt when the door opened and I looked up wonder who that person is. My instinct is to grab my trustful gun and aim it towards that intruder. However instead of getting alert, and hunting instinct it exactly quite opposite to what I feel right now.

Third POV.

A girl took a deep breath and with her shaky hand, she holds the handle and she pauses before she opened the door.

She didn't know what to do or what to say. She felt nervous to face them all. She wants to keep it secret however it keeps harder and harder to hide all the symptoms she felt during the last few months.

with heavy heart and soul, she opened the door and wish that bunker is well as empty as when she leaves it a few hours ago.

She didn't notice that the Impala, her first love park on her usual spot, she didn't notice a man sit on the chair seem like thinking something, she didn't notice her dad.

Dean POV

" y/n? " I blurted out. I didn't notice that my daughter y/n leave the bunker without telling us, or wasn't I?

Y/n my precious daughter, my little sunshine, and the only reason aside from my little brother who keeps me alive. 16 years ago Her mother and I met at the bar and happened to have one night stand. I was drunk to forget us condoms. I didn't realize it until, nine months later, Kylia found me and she shove the newly baby born into arms. I didn't hear her rants about not wanting kids because I was so fallen to my baby girl. I swear y/n is the most beautiful baby girl that I've ever seen. From that fateful night, I swore that I protect and love her no matter what.

With the help of my brother and my family, we did a good job raising a finest and yet mini-me y/n which kinda bit frustrated when she becomes a rebellious teenager and seeking for a new way to hunt.

I know that being a father and hunter ain't hood to raise a child in a world full of darkness but I did try my best to become a father that she deserved and not the father that I used to grow up

I again clear up my throat and by the time that I saw her, I know something is terrible up. Called it father instinct. My stomach began to feel something that I don't know if it's about the food or the worriedness about my daughter.

"Where have you been, I told you not to go outside not unless if you needed something but should-" I stumble and am shocked by a sudden hug coming from my daughter. My eyebrows meet and speculate more thoughts about what happened to her during a few weeks.

Then suddenly y/n cried up and my heart broke up thousand of pieces. Through I used to her cry of nonsense but this is different. I can feel it.

I began to think of a different reason why she cried like this. Is she on her period? Did a boy break her heart? If it is, then who? Oh god, my baby girl is heartbroken?! No-no-no.

" Hey, baby girl what's wrong? " I managed to ask a few words as I stroke her hair.

I didn't get her reply as she continues sobbing and sniffing on my chest. I continuously stroke her hair and rubbed a small circle on her back. With her tears I heard, I began to tear up which probably I got hurt when my baby girl gets hurt.

I saw Sam holding a can and some books and gave me confused look. I know he was confused about what is going on and the same as me. I only gave her shrug off before concentrate on keeping her calm down.

I sigh and sing a song that makes her calm down. It's a song that I always sing to her whenever she feels scared and upset. it her lullaby and till now I always sing to her when she felt like this. And now even though she's growing up ain't stopping this.

'Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better'

I sang softly and smile. I heard her sobs subside and her shoulder is no longer tensed. I kissed her head and quietly sing the rest of the song

By the song ends, y/n look up to me and hate to see her red-rimmed eyes and red nose face at me.

" Daddy... "

Y/n POV

After the song finish, I felt quite comfortable and my heart no longer pains me.

" daddy" I called up again. I hate seeing my dad worried glances and I wanted to back down but I know it's too late, now that I cried to his chest, and makes my father worried.

" what's wrong, princess " I nearly chuckle to hear the old nickname that I used to love but hate now. I should give my father annoying and death glares to him but I'm drained and tired to argue with my father.

Instead of the reply to his question, I took a piece of paper inside my leather jacket. With my shaky hand, I hesitate to give it to him. I saw my father unfold the paper and read it.

I know he reads it as I saw his face turn to a worried and horrifying face. I bit my lip as teardrops start to stream to his face and suddenly it aches my heart.

I didn't realize that my uncle Sam was there and he took the paper that my dad read it. My dad was frozen and saw Sam has the same reaction but he stumbled a bit and luckily sat on the chair or else he would hurt more.

The air was tense and several minutes seemed like a century to me as I was forced to see my dad and uncle of their horrifying reaction.

I was about to leave them and lock them up in my room but my dad grabs my wrist and put pressure on it, so I couldn't shove it off, I hesitate to look at his now red-rimmed eyes just like mine.

" Is this true? "

My heart broke as I nod

" when... When did it start? "

I flinched to hear a tone when my dad wanted a straight answer but I could see the difference of it. Instead of deadly and threatened, it's a broken and saddened tone that probably haunt me the rest of my life.

" honey, when did start... " I look up to him as a surprise to hear the familiar fatherly sweet tone that only me can know.

"a few months ago. When you just back from purgatory dad... " I mumble but I know that dad heard it because he mumbles coherent words that I know he's cursing, I wish it's not from me.

Then suddenly my dad sat down on the chair and then he hugged tightly couldn't breathe but slightly loose the tightness but still hugging me

" We can pull this up alright, we will. N/n we will fight this together okay, we'll find ways to rid this shit. We will be on your battle. " I then look up at my father and saw the tense and urging look " we will fight this out but you'll do your job ok, you'll kick this shit out, and keep fighting. Don't give up okay please, little n/n. " I heard him crack as didn't say anything considering, I was crying again and the inky response I can get is nodding.

Then I hug my father again and I feel another wrapped strong arms. I smile softly that uncle Sam joined the party. Now we are Complete, I feel like I'm ready to fight this shut out.

" Winchester is hard to kill, not even cancer. " I chuckle to hear uncle Sammy spoke.

"Yeah right, so you gonna do your part little princess, aright. Don't give up. " My father kiss my forehead. We parted away and wipes the tears we have. We laugh as we sniffle then finally our tears died down.

My father, Dean wipe the remaining tears and I look up to him confused. I saw him sad and regret my eyes and my heart sank.

" I love you N/Niepie, " then he kisses my forehead.

----AND CUT!!! ---

" Nice work J2 and Jodi damn there are no dried tears here " Robert yelled as all the staff and crew wipe their tears. " okay thirty minutes break, Jared, come to me I gotta asked you something" he added.

A group of assistants swarms the actors and did their task. Some wipe their sweats, do makeup, fixing their hair, and so on.

Jensen chuckles a little bit and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes.

" nice job dude, seem like the Days of our Lives gig paid off huh" A sixteen years old, young actress Jodi Smith tease him.

He rolled his eyes and ruffle her hair. " nice try but no you not riding my Baby" Jodi groan and about to reply when her assistant came and whisper to her ear "You're lucky, Mr. Ackles. Robert needs me now but I won't stop bothering you not until I sat on the driver seat and ride the impala".

When Jodi is out of sight, Jensen Ackles began to walk through his trailer. The thirty minutes of break is not enough of yearning for his daughter.

By the time he got inside. He locks it and sits on the couch. He rubbed his tired face as he grabs the old filthy Cinderella wallet. Today scene was emotional to him, not because of the scene itself but because he truly did miss his daughter y/n

In the finale of season 12, alongside Jack Kline played Alexander Calvert, and y/n Winchester played Jodi Smith we're both introduced and a new cast of Supernatural. Jensen was supposed to be glad that there are two new members of their family, but instead, it replaces guilt and dreadful feelings.

It's not the new cast members but the fact that Jodi Smith portrays is seem a great punch to his heart that he starts to realize he still has a daughter that should be taken care of.

No one knows not even Jared. Danneel and the kids, the crew nor the fans knew that the great Jensen Ackles has a secret daughter and only his close family knew about this truth.

" I'm sorry princess, How I wish I was there for you but you know I can't."

Jensen stroke a faded picture of an eight-year-old girl holding a doll whilst hugging the twenty-year-old Jensen Ackles.

" I'm sorry, I love you" he kisses the picture with so much love and tears began to stream down his cheeks

Hope you like it keep safe everyone. Reblog and like will yah.