#Wild winds: snippets

[instructionsnotincluded]

Oh miss ma’am can we have a snippet of my favorite couple during the holidays? 😍😍😍

Yessss!

18+ MDNI | Rafe’s POV, heavy flirting, language, explicit sex, pregnancy sex, references to rough sex.

Rafe leaned back onto the palms of his hands, watching his wife slowly untie the red silk robe, an early Christmas present from Amy. The floor length fabric slipped off her body and pooled at her feet, Rafe’s mouth going dry as he took in her new lingerie.

The bra tied at the front, as if it were a present with a big satin bow, the material the only thing keeping him from seeing her gorgeous breasts. Her chest rose and fell, excess cleavage spilling out now that her breasts were growing, and he groaned as his eyes drifted down her body, taking in the sheer high cut matching g-string, the thin straps resting just over the curve of her hips, leaving very little to the imagination. And while all of that was absolutely hot, it was her slightly rounded stomach that had him hardening, her skin stretching to make way for the baby they created about four months ago.

He never thought he’d have a breeding kink. In all the times they role played it before they were married and before they discussed having kids, it was never the idea of actually reproducing that got him going. But now that she was full from him—now that he’d actually given her a baby, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop the way his dick throbbed when he pictured her pregnant, couldn’t stop staring as she walked towards him.

“Does it look ok?”

Rafe’s swallow was audible, nodding as she slipped her fingers over his bare shoulders, his own hands curving over her outer thighs, skimming her body until he reached her stomach, holding it gently on either side as he lifted his eyes to find hers.

“You look so good, Lo.” Rafe shifted to press his lips to the space just below the large bow, “So beautiful, so fuckin’ hot, baby.”

He knew she was self conscious, that she hadn’t expected to not be able to wear her clothes at this point in her pregnancy and she hadn’t gone shopping for maternity clothes yet, opting to wear her looser clothes or some of his. “The bra is on its last hook, just hanging on for dear life.”

Rafe snorted, shaking his head as he flattened his hands out, caressing her stomach before he ran them up her body, teasing the edge of the bow, “S’good thing you won’t be wearing it long.”

He almost lost it right there, lips parting as he unwrapped his present, watching her gorgeous tits fall into place, cupping them in his hands, he dropped his head to give them the attention they deserved. Gently licking and kissing, nuzzling his way around her very sensitive nipples, making sure not to cause her any discomfort as he teased her piercings between his teeth, squeezing them together before he fell back against the bed, taking her with him.

Logan giggled and Rafe grinned lazily up at her, watching the future mother of his child get comfortable, he made quick work of unclasping her bra before what little of it remained fell from her frame. Rafe enjoyed the view, enjoyed the feel of her hands lightly tracing the muscles along his abdomen, enjoyed the feel of her shifting and not so subtlety grinding onto his covered cock. He slipped his hands up her thighs and over her waist, gliding them along her stomach. Her bump was most noticeable like this, a little round, a little low, and he wondered what it would look like in four more months, when she was weeks away from delivering.

She was still about three weeks away from her anatomy scan, and the baby had so far refused to cooperate when the sonogram technicians tried to see if it was a boy or a girl, which seemed fitting. A baby with both Cameron and Maybank DNA was bound to be strong willed and, as JJ so proudly declared at the dinner table that evening, difficult.

All thoughts of his brother-in-law and their Christmas Eve dinner at JJ’s new house flew from his mind as Logan leaned down and kissed his neck, her nose brushing his head back as she kissed and nibbled at his ear, his hands running over her hips before they cupped her ass, his long fingers digging into the soft flesh as she sucked her way down the front of his throat and over his chest, her body shimmying down his until she reached the elastic of his boxer briefs, her hand palming him through the thin material, a damp spot darkening the color from where they both got a little too excited.

She kissed him through the material, stroking up his thigh as she teased his head, moaning softly when he gathered the hair at the back of her neck, the strands longer and falling over her shoulders now—blonde curls keeping him from seeing her beautiful face. She gently pulled his underwear down, that pink tongue that sent him to new heights swiped across her lips as he sprung free, her hand wrapping around him almost immediately.

Another thing about Logan’s pregnancy was that she was now in that ‘horny all the time’ phase. She thankfully just got out of the morning, or in her case, all day sickness and was now insatiable. Evidence of that being her trying to coerce him into the Maybanks’ powder room, those painted lips attached to his ear, moaning about how badly she needed to taste him.

He wanted to let her too—the number of times he’d heard or walked in on JJ while he lived with them had him ready for payback, but he also didn’t want the entire party to hear his pregnant wife gagging on his cock. The guestlist was long and the powder room was not far enough away and there was zero chance of Logan stopping after a blow job. They’d been going three, sometimes four rounds lately before she was satisfied and he didn’t really want to explain to Ellie why her brand new good Christmas towels needed to be thrown out. Or why he needed to know where her mop was.

“You’re so big, daddy,” Logan purred around him, her long nails sending goosebumps up his legs as she toyed with him, dragging the nail of her index finger down his shaft, “so red—so hard.”

“Need it, baby.” Rafe’s hips bucked when she kissed his head, “Been thinking about it all night after you mentioned it.”

“Should have let me make you feel good,” Logan hummed before she took him into her mouth, tongue swirling as she stroked where she couldn’t reach, eyes lifting to meet his.

“Too many people, doll,” Rafe groaned when she started to bob, teeth grazing his sensitive flesh, although not enough to cause any real pain, “your noises are all mine.”

Logan gagged, obscene noises filling their spacious bedroom and Rafe moaned, neck extending as he tilted his head back, trying to keep his hips still as she quickened her motions, his girl moaning around him when he kissed the back of her throat.

She pulled off after several blissful seconds, stroking his wet cock purposefully, free hand moving to cup his testicles, her lips sliding along his dick until she reached them. “Fuck, Lo…” Rafe bucked and she giggled, “So fuckin’ good at that.”

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Logan shifted, her free hand releasing his cock before she slipped it between her legs and inside her underwear, “so turned on and ready to be filled…”

Rafe moved quickly, Logan shrieking as he pinned her to the bed, careful of the baby, as he kissed her deeply, passionately before he ripped the thin fabric from her hips, his own fingers sliding in to feel just how wet and ready she was for him. “You’ve been this way awhile,” Rafe groaned, kissing across her shoulder and between her breasts, making sure to love on and kiss his way across her stomach until he reached her hips and pulled his fingers out, immediately sucking them into his mouth. “My baby needs it, huh?”

“All the time,” Logan sighed as he shifted again, pushing his underwear off fully before he lifted her legs, taking a moment to stare down at her as he licked his lips, the taste of her still lingering there. “I’m so hot, daddy. So desperate for your big, thick cock.”

“Fuck, Logan.”

Rafe guided himself to her, both of them sighing as he teased her opening, his eyes moving to her face when he slipped inside. It didn’t take long for him to bottom out, Logan clawing her way down his back as they moved together. “Need it, need it, need it,” Logan babbled as he rocked into her over and over again, “Harder, Rafe. Please baby, fuck me so good.”

Rafe would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about how hard he could rail his pregnant wife, Logan drifting closer and closer to that rough sex line the further along she got, one instance a few weeks ago where he’d nearly smacked her ass raw coming to mind, his girl sobbing for him to do it again and again as she rode him hard. He already made a mental note to run it by the doctor during their next visit. He definitely didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t good for the baby, even if it’s mother wanted to be fucked so hard she couldn’t walk.

He moved harder and quicker, hips snapping as their headboard shook, probably denting and scuffing the wall further, and he was just glad that no one was staying with them now, Wheezie opting to go to Sarah’s rather than come back with them. Logan gripped his back, shoulders, and neck, trying to get as close as she could to him, eyes all but rolling back into her head as she pressed her mouth to his, nails scratching up the back of his head as she got closer and closer to the edge.

It didn’t take long. Not that it ever took Logan long to come undone, he knew what buttons she needed pushed and when, but another side effect of the pregnancy hormones was that she came quick. Her body was already partly there before they even started, his girl only taking a few minutes to climb the rest of the way, that gorgeous pussy squeezing him so hard he tumbled right after.

“Rafe, Rafe, Rafe…”

He kissed her down from her high, loving on her neck and shoulders as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as they breathed together, hearts beating in time together.

“I love you,” Rafe drug his lips across her shoulder, breath still coming out in short pants, hand sliding between them to caress her stomach, “both of you.”

“We love you too,” Logan breathed back, nudging his face up for a sweet kiss, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

[rebornofstars]

Cracking open pistachios (the bestest of best snacks) and thinking of Grandpa Wind struggling to pry the shells apart and having to ask one of the Chain for help and then they won't let him live it down because he got so mad that the Old Man Fingers wouldn't let him eat his pistach >:) It made more sense in my mind lol

unfortunately, i don't eat pistachios, so i cannot relate to your pain 😔

"What are you doing?" Legend asked. Wind snarled indistinctly. "Suffering." "What?" "I'm suffering." "He's suffering," Wild repeated, a grin in his voice. "C'mon, keep up, vet." "Do you need..." Legend paused. "Help?" Wind turned on him with a look of utmost fury. Wild snickered. Legend raised an eyebrow. "...Yeah," Wind admitted, deflating. He thrust out a hand. "I can't open my pistachios." "You must have gotten arthritis in your old age," Wild said unhelpfully, as Legend took the little nuts in his hand and surveyed them with an expression of extreme bewilderment. "For the last time," Wind said. "I'm not old. And I definitely don't have arthritis." It wasn't even a lie. "Well, what's wrong, then?" "My fingers are too big," Wind grouched. "Too big?" Wild echoed. "What does that even mean? Too big?" "Yeah, too big," Legend said, thrusting the handful of now-shelled pistachios back at Wind. Then he added spitefully, "c'mon, keep up, Cook."

[occasionallyprosie]

I'm thinking of adding a tenth Link to one of my fics...

[theinfinitedivides]

my f*cking God he's done it again!!!!!!

[bumblesimagines]

For Life

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The Wolverine was unmatched in the fighting ring, until a new face arrived and turned his life upside down.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical X-Men Warnings, lots of blood mentions, violence/fighting, both fluff and angst, Logan being as whipped as he was for Jean with (Y/N), age gap cause Logan is super fucking old lmao, more so snippets/a concept over a full fledged fic.

divider by cafekitsune!

~~~

Wolverines generally avoid humans in the wild but are known to be particularly aggressive and even dangerous when cornered or provoked, prompting them to put those sharp canines and claws to work. Wolverines are known for their incredible strength and stamina, but mostly for their infamous ferocity. Despite their reputation as ill-tempered loners, wolverines are known to be social with others and will form lifelong relationships with their mates.

It'd been a cold evening in Laughlin City and most of the bar's patrons had shuffled into the establishment with their faces nearly hidden behind hoods and scarves as they scrambled to get out of the snow and chilling winds. The occasional gust of wind blowing in whenever the door opened left patrons simultaneously groaning in complaint but the heater emitting warm air kept their grumbling and huffing to a minimum. The nipping cold had soured many moods, and Logan could see many men itching to forget about the cold with an adrenaline-pumping fight. He was just eager to make an easy buck.

He braced an arm against one of the cage's support beams and watched with a hint of a smirk as his latest opponent staggered out of the cage, his buddies narrowly catching him before he could plummet onto the hardwood floor and further batter his face. The locals eyed him with a certain disdain, certain suspicion, but he put up good enough entertainment for them to tolerate him. He sniffed, hardly phased by the punches he'd taken during the fight, and nodded to the referee. 

"Does anyone else dare-" 

"I'll have a go." 

Logan immediately craned his head to eye the voice's owner, foreign and new to Laughlin City. He'd been participating in cage fights long enough to begin memorizing the locals, and the fresh face staring back at him was an utter stranger. Passing by Laughlin City, Logan assumed, but he lacked the particular smell of gas, car air freshener, and look of exhaustion to be a trucker like most of the patrons taking up seats around them. He observed him, taking in every inch of his new opponent as he rounded the cage. He seemed young, but then again, so did Logan. 

"Name's (Y/N)." He said, staring Logan in the eyes as he shed his jacket and shirt. Someone nearby took both articles of clothing for him, likely eager to see what he'd do, or how he'd go down. Logan had managed to break two noses and chip a few teeth already, one could only wonder what he'd do next. "Nice to meet you, Wolverine."

Logan simply grunted and pushed himself off the support beam, rolling his neck and curling his fingers into tight fists. (Y/N) grinned at him, almost arrogantly, but not with the usual cockiness of a man who thought himself the toughest guy in Alberta. He appeared... too calm for Logan's liking, but once the referee stepped out of the cage and closed the door, he decided to focus on beating his face in instead. 

They circled each other first, eyes raking over the other from head to toe in search of a weakness to exploit, of a twitch that'd give away their next move. Logan could hear the muttering of the crowd, the impatient tap of fingers and boots, and the intensity in their stares. His eyes flickered away briefly, and he immediately cursed his mistake when (Y/N) lunged. Despite a part of him urging him to dodge or block, he remained still, expecting (Y/N)'s knuckles to break upon impact but instead, his fist connected effectively with Logan's jaw and he nearly stumbled onto the floor.

Managing to catch himself as scattered gasps echoed from the crowd, Logan grazed his fingers over his aching jaw and raised his head to look at the man. Mutant. No human had ever taken a swing at him without immediately spraining or breaking something, let alone been able to make his head turn with a punch. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk and the crowd erupted into cheers, primarily egging (Y/N) on to beat him to a pulp; Logan wanted to see him try.

The ache in his jaw faded swiftly, just in time for Logan to take a swing at (Y/N) and see how much he could tank. (Y/N) dodged his quick swings efficiently, taking steps back each time before he caught Logan's forearm and swiftly spun, his back pressing to Logan's chest before Logan was promptly hauled over his body. He collided with the floor, the cage trembling as if an earthquake had struck, and Logan doubted it'd be able to take the weight of his body a second time without damage. (Y/N) flashed another little grin down at him but instead of taking advantage of his momentary shock, he took a step back and allowed him to get up. 

A professionally trained mutant, Logan deduced when he got to his feet, intriguing. And worrisome. He hardly needed a group of mutants on his ass begging him to join them. 

"You ready to give up your title of champion, big guy?" (Y/N) questioned with a hint of a mocking coo, his words rowdying up the same crowd who'd turn on him if they learned of his mutant abilities, although Logan guessed they likely already suspected and merely wanted to see him hurt for a change. Challenging in his tone but his eyes studied Logan with a degree of curiosity he typically never saw in others.

"We're just gettin' started, bud."

"Even better."

Everything afterward felt like a whirlwind of punching, kicking, dodging, and blocking; Logan's favorite sort of dance, and one that'd hopefully end with some cash in his pocket and a well-deserved cigar. He managed to maneuver (Y/N) around, his arm coiling around his neck to put him in a headlock most wouldn't survive. (Y/N) pressed back against him, forcing them to stumble backward until Logan's back collided with the cage's wall that miraculously managed to stay put without giving out on them both. Logan released a guttural groan when (Y/N)'s short blunt nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red marks behind with specks of blood that only made him tighten his hold.

"Anything goes, right?" (Y/N) wheezed, his palm pressing against Logan's arm, a chill shooting down Logan's spine when it slowly moved on its own and gave him enough space to catch his breath without the pressure on his throat. 

"The hell-"

Straightening his knees and tossing his head back into Logan's face, Logan cursed and released him fully to bring a hand to his nose. He covered it, waiting for it to heal without catching the eye of the people around but (Y/N) gave him no time to recover. He spun on his heel and took another swing at him, bringing his knee up into Logan's stomach when he doubled over and then slamming the bottom of his boot into the side of his face. His head slammed against a support beam and he groaned, the aches and pains healing rapidly but before he could stand up, he realized his body refused to follow his wishes. 

"Giving up yet, big guy?" (Y/N) asked with a tilt of his head, eyes glinting with newfound warning. "We'll be here all night at this rate."

Logan swallowed, a hint of panic surging forward at his inability to move and the mystery surrounding the powers being used against him. Some sort of mental ability, he guessed, but whatever it was he disliked it tenfold. Logan grinded his teeth in frustration and begrudgingly nodded. "Fine," He grunted and sighed in relief when (Y/N) released whatever hold he had on him, allowing his body to relax and slump.

While, yes, losing a fight was a bruise to his pride, Logan found himself more intrigued by the fellow mutant, if not more cautious. With the sky darkening outside, Logan retreated from the cage to collect his belongings and ordered some beer while he watched (Y/N) at the other end of the bar. Once the bartender placed the beer down, he scooped it up in his hand and rounded the bar toward him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the men who clapped (Y/N) on the shoulder as if he'd done everyone a service. He waited, though, for everyone to be out of earshot. 

"How'd you do it?" Logan questioned quietly, chugging back some beer and smacking his lips as it flowed down his throat. (Y/N) fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sparing him an amused glance and an arched brow. "The whole- the whole body thing. What is it? Some sort of telekinesis?"

"How about you walk me to my motel and I'll tell you all about it?" (Y/N) grinned again, eyes crinkling despite the way they'd been going at each other moments prior, and he turned toward the exit with a beckoning nod. Reaching into his pocket, Logan jingled the keys to his old, busted RV and watched his grin widen.

Out in the cold night, semi-trucks passed them by on the icy roads beside the snow-tipped bar. (Y/N) tugged his hoodie over his head, keeping it on when he sat in the passenger seat and relished the light heat that filled the RV once Logan turned it on. Logan glanced at him, eyeing his light attire once more but keeping his questions to himself despite curiosity knawing at him insistently. He kept his eyes on the road, careful to avoid going at a speed that'd have them sliding into the forest around them. 

"It's not telekinesis." (Y/N) muttered, reaching out and fiddling with the radio dials until he found a decent station. "I.. I controlled your blood. It's not as, uh, clean and pretty as telepathy or telekinesis but it's pretty useful in most cases. I can sense when someone's sick, too, or even help with cuts and infections. I'd make a pretty decent surgeon, honestly." He gave a small chuckle.

Logan snorted, though some unease settled in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah? How'd you figure out you had it?" Logan glanced at him again and immediately noticed the way his features fell. 

"It's not a pretty story." He sighed softly, his head tilting to watch the trees and snow pass them by in a mixed blur. "Let's just say, some of my blood got out of my body and I panicked.. and it started levitating... anyways, enough about me, big guy. What's your thing? It can't just be that super-healing thing, right?" 

Pursing his lips, Logan clutched the wheel with one hand and curled the other one into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he watched his claws slide out and then swallowed when (Y/N)'s features brightened. Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand and Logan retracted the claws, an unfamiliar feeling swirling in his stomach as he felt (Y/N) run his fingertips over his skin, tracing his knuckles and then the veins along the back of his hand. It'd been a while since he last left a gentle touch, and a quiet part in the back of his mind almost considered him unworthy of it. 

"My name's Logan." He grunted softly, the typical tension he always carried fading with each delicate caress.

"Well, Logan," (Y/N) lifted his head with a cheeky smile on his face, his thumb pressing into one of the veins and drawing Logan's eyes toward him. "You mind keeping me company tonight? Or do you have someone you have to get back to?"

"No," Logan's lips tugged upward. "I've got time." 

The motel was as rundown as Logan expected, dimly lit hallways occasionally plunging into darkness when the light flickered above them, and the curiosity surged forward again, prodding him to question where the mutant had come from or why he'd chosen Laughlin City of all places to stay in. But (Y/N) gave him no time to dwell further on it, the back of his foot kicking the door shut behind them before his hands grasped the collar of Logan's coat and pulled him in. 

There was a dangerous addictiveness and allure to (Y/N), from the way he effortlessly danced the line between sweet and rough: a kiss full of tongues and teeth and nips but smoothed over by gentle fingers massaging the muscle of his biceps when Logan slid his coat off, only for those same fingers to slip through his brown strands and tug. It triggered something within Logan, a growl emitting from his throat as broad hands grasped at the other's hips and drew a breathless laugh from (Y/N). 

As much as he enjoyed considering himself a lone wolf, the brief connection with others during one-night stands always reminded him he was still partly human, even when others considered him a savage brute. He savored it, savored when he had (Y/N) on his lap, his chest rising and falling with heaves and lips parted to release low grunts and groans. He savored the feeling of (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely, his breath fanning against his ear and allowing Logan to hear every noise he exhaled. He savored the ability to dig his fingers into soft flesh without worry, or sink his teeth into (Y/N)'s collarbone and feel the mark heal beneath his lips. He mostly savored the addictive warmth encircling him and the pleasure that made his thighs tremble. 

His arms tightened around (Y/N), pressing him close to his chest, and captured his lips to swallow another whine. For the first time in who knows how long, he found himself hoping he'd see more of (Y/N) around. 

But after a few days, the mutant disappeared from Alberta, and a week later Logan took a girl by the name of Rogue under his wing. 

"You may see another familiar face here." 

Logan turned his attention away from the mutant children, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at the sight of them living happy lives without the threat of danger from those who despised them for simply existing. He searched the outer yard for any sign of Marie, but he assumed she was likely still getting acclimated to her new home at the school, and finally peered down at Charles questioningly. Charles smiled knowingly and motioned off to the side. 

"While I prefer having (Y/N) here for his safety, he enjoys venturing out to help others. I hear you two became acquainted while he was away." Charles spoke, and without thinking twice, Logan's head snapped in the direction he'd pointed in, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight of (Y/N) walking toward him with that godforsaken grin that'd plagued Logan's thoughts and dreams for weeks. "(Y/N) has called this school home for many years, and he often helps with the more severe injuries. I'll allow you two a moment to... catch up." 

(Y/N) nodded to Charles as they walked past each other before stopping in front of Logan and crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilting playfully to the side and eyes drinking him in. "It's nice seeing you again, Logan." He stepped closer, eyes lifting to meet his once more. "Here I was thinking about taking a drive back to Alberta. Guess you must've read my mind." 

"Pretty sure that's Charles's thing," Logan replied, pressing this thumb into (Y/N)'s chin and curling the rest of his fingers under it. He had to, otherwise he would've convinced himself he was imagining things, that the mutant who'd managed to make him laugh and smile was still miles away someplace else. "What were you doin' in Alberta?"

"I heard rumors and whispers about a man down in Laughlin City and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I would've asked you to come back with me but.. that didn't seem like the type of pillow talk you'd appreciate." He explained softly, leaning into Logan's touch and closing his eyes briefly when Logan pressed his palm fully against his cheek, still caught in the fleeting worry he'd wake up and find himself on the side of the icy road with Marie nowhere in sight. "You're here now, though." His eyes opened. "Are you staying?" 

"I don't-"

"Oh, come on," (Y/N) scoffed lightly, warmly, and moved in even closer. "It's nice here, Logan. I can finish showing you around and we'll find something for you to do. The food's good, the rooms are nice, and it's... freshening to hear the laughter of kids finally being happy. You'd make a helluva teacher, I bet. Everyone's favorite." His genuine tone shifted into a teasing one, laughing softly when Logan rolled his eyes. 

Lifting his brows, Logan smirked and brought him close, itching to close the distance despite a heated voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve the warmth and acceptance. "We can start and end the tour in the dorms-"

"Only if you promise to stay." (Y/N) cooed, tilting his head away to dodge a kiss but he allowed himself to be tugged into an embrace. His arms curled around Logan's shoulders, lips drawing back into a wide smile before he planted a kiss on the corner of Logan's lips. "If you stay, we can finish what we started... and see where it goes." 

Logan leaned back, his brows twitching down into a furrow but (Y/N)'s grip around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay and not flee from his words. He swallowed, conflicted in the way his brain and heart battled. Half of him screamed at him to leave, to go before he could mess everything up but another part desperately clung to the idea of staying and finally having a place to call home, finally having a person to call home. 

He noted the flicker of uncertainty in (Y/N)'s features following his silence, felt him beginning to draw back from the embrace. Logan secured his arms around him and allowed a ghost of a smile to slip. "Yeah," He murmured, weakly at first. "I'd like that."

Truthfully, Logan hadn't been fully listening to what Scott- or well, what Cyclops had spoken about in the briefing about their latest mission. He'd heard the usual 'group of anti-mutants' and promptly tuned out afterward in favor of soaking in how (Y/N) looked in the dark suit, though noted somewhat glumly how it didn't allow him to wear the engagement ring. His staring hadn't gone unnoticed given the amused glances Jean stole and the exasperated exhale from Cyclops before they were dropped near the location of the warehouse. 

"Good luck, Lo." (Y/N) whispered to him, planting a kiss on his cheek and dragging his fingers over Logan's beard with a mischievous glint in his pretty (E/C) eyes.

They'd separated pretty soon after, splitting up to cover more ground given the amount of people working with the group. It hadn't taken long at all for the fighting to begin, and despite Cyclops pushing for them to use as little force as possible, Logan couldn't help bruising and cutting a few people up. He managed to knock out a gunman when he heard the distinctive clap of thunder. Amusement had him cracking a grin followed by pity toward whichever fool dared face against Storm, but then he heard her shriek:

"(Y/N)!" 

Too high-pitched, loud, and full of horror for Logan to brush aside as a warning call. His footsteps thundered throughout the halls as he moved, shoving and swinging his claws at anyone who stood in his way until he stumbled upon the sight, eyes immediately finding (Y/N) on his knees with Storm beside him. Logan beelined toward them, dropping into a crouch and promptly feeling a wave of nausea pass over him at the sight of (Y/N) blood-stained hands grasping desperately at his throat. 

"They-" Storm swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with panic. "They shot him. He- He can't heal with the bullet-" 

"Darlin'," Logan exhaled shakily, pulling him swiftly into his arms and attempting to keep his composure despite the wheezy exhales and gurgles filling his ears. Blood spread across his throat, blobs of it levitating only to lose their perfectly round form and fall onto the floor with splatters each time (Y/N) grimaced. "I know it hurts but you have to focus on gettin' the bullet out. Baby, hey, focus."

(Y/N) stared up at him, wide eyes filling with tears and shoulders shaking with his hiccups and trembles. The red tint of blood on his lips filled Logan with a familiar sense of dread, his arms holding him tighter so (Y/N) wouldn't feel him trembling as well. He watched the blood oozing out of the wound rise, oddly shaped and raised while he worked on shoving the lodged bullet out of his throat before he choked to death on the very thing he could control. He wheezed and coughed occasionally, droplets of blood flinging onto Logan's cheek and coloring his beard but he paid it no mind.

Storm fiddled with her earpiece, stuttering out explanations to Jean and Cyclops and urging them to move quicker. Logan thumbed away the tears that slipped down his (S/C) skin, forcing himself to give encouraging nods and smiles despite the hurricane threatening to break within his chest.

(Y/N) tilted his chin up toward him and Logan swooped in eagerly, kissing him despite the blood that danced on his tongue afterward. He heard the familiar clatter of metal falling onto the floor and leaned back, eyes flickering around frantically until he spotted the bloody bullet rolling around beside them. 

"Hey, hey, you did it. You-"

Storm exhaled shakily. "Logan."

Logan's head snapped back toward (Y/N)'s face, first noticing the dullness in his eyes and then the way blood continued freely oozing from the wound. He stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the limpness in (Y/N)'s body and the stillness of his chest, the world around him slowly coming to a standstill. Storm's sniffling cries and the frantic questions from Jean and Cyclops as they finally arrived became distant, unable to focus on anything but (Y/N). 

"Hey..." Logan exhaled, cupping his cheek as his brows furrowed into a tight-knit. "Hey, hey, hey, you- you can't do this." He furiously blinked away the tears that glazed over his vision, rubbing his thumb into (Y/N)'s cheek and waiting for him to nuzzle into his touch as he always did, but it never came. "You can't do this. You can't-" Logan cradled his body against his chest, burying his face into his collarbone as he'd done dozens of times before. (Y/N) remained unresponsive, his arms falling limply at his sides from Logan's movements. 

"You can't do this to me. You promised you'd never leave."

[honeyryewhiskey]

mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks. 

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real. 

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you. 

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this. 

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing. 

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement. 

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

 He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

[kit-williams]

Resending sfw fluf scenarios for writers block part 1. This one works as Husbandry or Reverse Husbandry.

The Night Lords look on in utter confusion as Konrad Cruze lets a tiny baseline girl child braid brightly collored paper flowers into his hair.

Alright

Husbandry Tags @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis

Father had returned! It had been a month since the Primarch of the Eighth had vanished. All of the psykers of the legion had tried to figure out what happened even beseeching Magnus to help with it. Either the Primarch of the Thousand Sons succeeded or it simply returned to normal... perhaps the Emperor himself caught wind of it. But both Sheng and Sevetar knew something was different... wherever the Primarch had been sent had disturbed something inside of him far more so than the normally disturbed Primarch.

The changes were almost instant as the wretched state of his bedchambers was immediately changed. It was cleaned before he would enter it again. Curze was jumpy and hissing at anyone getting too close... not too different from anything not until the medicae were called to his chambers. Which revealed the small child that he had returned with, ill with everything and anything as unknown to his sons... her little immune system was unable to deal with all the wild new strains of illness but lucky for her... everyone was terrified to fail the Primarch for his request on "fixing her".

Sheng and Sevetar would overhear them speak to each other in a language unknown to either Night Lord though she would speak snippets of Gothic in a strange accent. It was Sevetar who finally had the nerve to ask one day as he entered his father's chambers, again they spoke in the strange language as she combed the long black hair, looking healthier than when he went missing, before starting to braid the strands and inserting paper flowers.

"How long were you actually gone." He said to the point in Nostroman as she looked at him unaware of what he said.

"Years." Curze sneered, "Perhaps Decades even."

"Who is she?"

"My ward... my charge... my bonded." The Primarch tried to find the right words to explain what he experienced. "An unloved thing waiting for someone to care about her." He remembers the lonely look in her eyes before stealing her from the Foster Center, wasn't really stealing... it was simply taking what was his.

"I was on what many thought to be ancient Terra." Curze says unprompted, "There were thousands of Astartes there... all from different times... night lords that have yet to meet me... and night lords made after I am long dead. Though that future is less than certain."

Sevetar's brow furrowed as his black eyes glanced over at the child who was still braiding with a smile as she was humming something. Curze had been interacting with his Legion more and properly all because of some child? Sevetar was skeptical and yet... all the things Curze had bemoaned about his legion he finally was taking an active role in his own legion and his own destiny... "Well what does the little princess need then?"

Konrad seemed to grin at that, hiding the malvolence in his smile before her tiny hug told him that she was done. "There we go Nacht! All done."

"Thank you little one." She was swallowed by his embrace.

"Nacht? Can I go out soon?"

"When you're better little one. I also need to make sure others know not to hurt you. When the medicae clears you and I get things in order."

"Okay. I can't wait to meet the other Night Lords!"

"Mhmm and I will make sure they all behave... or else." He whispers the final part in Nostroman as he carries her over to his bed before tucking her back in and watching her drift off again.

"There are many things that need to be done Sevetar." He skulked over to the Astarte and loomed over him, "I trust I will have your support?"

"Always my lord."

"Good."

[mynnthia]

compiling my headcanons for what video games dungeon meshi characters would like, if they were gamers in modern day

some taken from this post and my reblog additions there. added more characters, with some suggestions by friends/mutuals (marked by *asterisk ).

this can also be a games recommendation list based on your fav/most relatable characters too, if you want

characters that are not are included are bc i dont have ideas for them. if i only list the genre name but not any specific titles, its bc im not familiar enough with the character/genre to pick a specific game.

this list is, of course, biased towards games im more familiar with. feel free to ask me to elaborate on my choices or make suggestions in the comments

Laios' party:

Laios: plays lots of Monster Hunter. loves Spore but he doesnt often play past the tribal stage. likes Pokemon but he's more focused on catching the pokemon than following the story. played WolfQuest and DragonFable back in the day. enjoyed the concept of Bugsnax but wasn't interested in dealing with the NPCs

Marcille: mainly Dwarf Fortress, RTS games, some colony sims. but also sometimes The Sims, and dollmaker dress-up games. i could see her also enjoying Rollercoaster Tycoon and making elaborately-themed parks. might also occasionally indulge in some visual novels if she's in the mood for narrative she has Stardew Valley so she can have something to play co-op with falin, but its not a game she plays a lot of otherwise. when playing with falin, marcille micromanages the farm to maximize productivity, and does the decorations

Chilchuck: puzzle games and hidden object/escape room games as a video game-equivalent to finding/dismantling traps and lockpicking. i think he'd also enjoy Bejeweled.

Senshi: mainly Wii games and Cooking Mama. occasionally plays Snake on his 15-year-old nokia phone. i dont think he would enjoy games like Overcooked or restaurant manager games, because he likes to take his time making food, not stressing about customer service

Falin: some *Legend of Zelda games – she likes the exploration aspect in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, maybe also some of the toon zelda games like Minish Cap or Wind Waker she also plays Pokemon (*Pokemon Go when she's traveling), and i think she would enjoy some indie games, like Penko Park or Chicory: A Colorful Tale. plays Stardew Valley co-op with marcille – falin mainly takes care of the animals, mining, and picking the crops. occasionally makes improvement suggestions that marcille didnt think of

Izutsumi: i could see her enjoying games with parkour mechanics, like *Assassin's Creed, or Mirror's Edge. or maybe something simple but requiring cat-like swipes, like Fruit Ninja. despite her impatience, i think she could also enjoy action games with interesting longer narratives, as evidenced by [this omake] (relevant portion pictured below), so maybe *Final Fantasy 7 – my friend who's familiar with the game said "she’d find Cloud and Vincent relatable"

[ID: a dungeon meshi omake, where laios' party watches a nightmare monster manifest marcille's dream. there are snippets of dramatic soap opera-like dialogue. the rest of the party are initially enthusiastic but get bored over time, meanwhile izutsumi remains enthralled]

Kabru's party

Kabru: definitely Crusader Kings. maybe also some rpgs with relationship/faction mechanics, such as *Fire Emblem (one of the older ones or FE:3H) or Fallout: New Vegas (hes maxing out the speech stat asap) i think he would also enjoy mystery games like Pentiment and Return of the Obra Dinn – he would love the process of getting familiar with the many characters and deducing "who did what" in both games.

Rin: she takes pride in being an indie gamer (translating her disdain for upper class magic academy mages -> disdain for AAA games). given her chain-lightning magic in canon, i think she'd enjoy games with AOE-type magic, so maybe games such as Vampire Survivors. my mutual also suggested she might enjoy indie mystery visual novels like *Paranormasight, and that her AAA guilty-pleasure would be *Final Fantasy 14 – that rin is "a hardcore ff14 raider. would join PUGs and shot-call every week. #holm and diya might also play ff14 casually with rin but holm would be fishing mainly"

Mickbell: mainly Bethesda games like Fallout and Skyrim– enjoys the bootstrapper power fantasy in them. the type to go out of his way to pick up all the loot he can, to later sell

Kuro: enjoys the same games as Mickbell, but for the open-world exploration and investigation factors

Toshiro and Tansu's party:

Namari: her interest in fighting and weapons could translate to brawler/fighting games and action games with a focus on weapon stats – so maybe *Street Fighter, *God of War, and/or *Dark Souls. might play *Monster Hunter with laios but for the weapons. i could also see her occasionally enjoying truck simulators

Toshiro (Shuro): has the perseverance for soulslikes and other high-difficulty action and/or metroidvania games, but would take his time overthinking item/weapon synergies sometimes. given [his fondness for bugs], i could also see him enjoying Hollow Knight

Tade: would enjoy the cute aesthetics and lighthearted gameplay of Animal Crossing and Katamari. would also like idol anime rhythm games

Kiki: i think she would enjoy horror games such as Resident Evil, but would play it while super chill. i dont have much reasoning for this aside from vibes

Canaries:

Mithrun: plays Doom. got into Hollow Knight but still hasn't finished it because he keeps getting lost. senshi introduces him to Cooking Mama later on, which he finds surprisingly therapeutic

Cithis: plays Hitman and enjoys staging elaborate accident kills. i think she'd also enjoy The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood, with her background as a devious fortune-teller

Fleki: surreal indie games like Hylics. also plays Team Fortress 2, and is a scout main. occasionally joins lycion in Animal Jam

Lycion: active WolfQuest and Animal Jam player. occasionally joins fleki in tf2

Pattadol: plays Stardew Valley – shes comparatively a normie, but on the meticulous side. she would enjoy perfecting her in-game farm

Otta: plays Genshin Impact. the serious reasoning is because of her (earth) elemental magic and how genshin has an elemental magic system (from my understanding. ive never played it). the joke reasoning is how some genshin players play to collect "waifus", and how otta goes through a lot of women in her dating life

Other:

Leed: runs her own guild in World of Warcraft

Winged Lion: god-games like WorldBox or Simmiland. and Darkest Dungeon (this ones mostly a joke)

Thistle: plays the original Plants VS. Zombies. also plays Minecraft and is very serious about it, but hasn't updated his game in years (translating the fact hes a 1000-year-old kid frozen in time -> playing "slightly old" games popular in the early 2010s)

[ID: tweet reply by twitter user ranchuppi – "thistle calls it lord delgal's server but he is the only mod. whole royal family is locked in spectator mode. Hell. living hell on earth."]

[olenvasynyt]

SURPRISE @stickyelectrons ! I’m your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange and I’m glad to say that you have been so good and sweet this year so you get TWO gifts!

Please enjoy this art of Elain taking care of poor Lulu 🥣🤒you will be getting your second gift later this week, which will be a 2 chapter fic about how Elain and her poor mate got sick.

Snippet of fic below!

“Tomorrow,” she panted bracing herself against the chilly rain, “I am going to wake up with a cold and you are completely welcome to brag and tease me about being right, but right now you will listen to me.”

“Oh, my love, don’t I always?  You could tell me to crawl through this mud and pick out worms for your compost and I would gladly say, “Of course, my lady, how many worms do you require—”

A blast of wind interrupted him, and he laughed as he tumbled into her, catching her by the waist.  He wrapped his strong arms around her, and his voice was easier to hear as such close proximity.  “I listen to no wild storm or screaming beast, no wind in my ear or the rain on my head.  I only listen to you.  And if you wake up with a cold,” he added, “I would not brag about being right.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t?” Elain snorted.  Lucien loved to tease her and say that he was right.

“No.”

“What would you do then?  Nurse me, baby me, spoonfeed me some homemade soup and warm me up with your big strong Autumn hands?”  

“Indeed.  I love spoiling you and taking good care of you, you know that,” he crooned, sliding his hands down her waist dangerously close to her ass, as if reminding her how, exactly, he usually ‘spoiled her’.  “And you stuck in bed, moaning and groaning and sniffing up a storm?  I would be glad to baby you.  My poor, sick mate.”

[majoralynx]

Hello :] I'm genuinely curious about your soulmate au care to share a bit of lore? 👀 only if you want too ofc :3

Yes hello!! Thank you for the ask, here are some details for my LU modern soulmate AU !! I will be making little comic snippets based on it so stay tuned for that as well :) there likely won’t be a set plot for the whole thing but I’m giving the characters and world lots of lore!! Who knows, maybe I’ll eventually have a plot for it…

Soulmate AU’s have always fascinated me and I’ve always wanted to do one !! I would like to say that two of the bond effects(?? Idk if that’s what you refer to it as but that’s what we’re going with..) for soulmates was inspired by a fic I read a while ago, I don’t remember what the author’s name was unfortunately but I know a few details may be similar or the same with the effects, although I believe they might be pretty common effects in soulmate AU’s but I thought I’d say something anyway!

Here’s where the details actually start,

– Soulmates can project Certain traits (emotions, thoughts, physical feelings, etc..) to each other, all ends of a bond can send general feelings but they get much more concentrated depending on which trait one end is directly given. Projecting a sense or trait is a conscious decision, however, if the feeling or sense a soulmate is feeling is very big or overwhelming it can bleed over without them wanting it to.

-Normally, soulmates are only a pair, but our cast happens to be special, so that's not the case. I’m adding two other factors to the soulmate bonds: soulmarks, markings that change depending on whether or not you've met your soulmate, usually around the wrist, and journals!! I haven't seen this AU trait very often personally, but I think it’s really neat, the journal trait is when you and your soulmate(s) have a journal that transfers anything added to it, ink, color, glue, tears, blood, etc. (If you run out of journal space, you get a new one, like filling sketchbooks and getting a new one blah blah blah...magic!!)

Now let’s get into soulmate group effects with the Chain (and other main cast figures)!!!

– Sky projects visions (whether that's prophetic or just things he can see).

– ‘Four’ projects general emotions/feelings (anger, happiness, calm, pride(do those count as emotions ??idc) you get the gist).

– Time projects their hearing.

– Twilight projects his sense of smell.

– Wind can project dreams, as well as enter other people's dreams with full control of himself (oh the pranks he will get up to with the excuse of it being a dream and the chain not knowing his ability…).

– Legend can project thoughts, as well as receive them, he cannot view other people's thoughts without permission but he can send to his hearts content.

– Hyrule projects pain (which is not an often occurrence because of the whole ‘cult’ situation…).

– Warriors projects physical touch (say someone sets their hand on his shoulder and he projects it, then everyone will feel it.)

– Wild projects taste.

The shadow trio,

– Ravio projects pain (he likes to use it against Dink and project his scoliosis pain onto him when Dink is being an ass,,, Shadow is not amused).

– Dink projects physical touch, much like Wars.

– Shadow projects thoughts, same as Legend.

The Zeldas,

– Sun projects emotions.

– Dot projects taste.

– Lullaby projects pain.

– Dusk projects touch.

– Tetra projects smell.

– Fable projects hearing.

– Aurora projects dreams.

– Dawn projects thoughts.

– Artemis is not yet decided.

– Flora projects vision.

If anyone has any questions about anything or any details regarding any other characters or just the AU in general, my ask page is always open!!

Have some Ravio doodles for the road,

[instructionsnotincluded]

Can we get a snippet of JJ interrupting them? 👀

We can have that 😉

Read Wild Winds here!

18+ MDNI | Language, shower sex, smut, sex interrupted.

Logan slipped her fingers into Rafe’s hair, forehead pressed to his as they kissed slowly. The steam from the shower filled the small room, and Logan was so thankful for the window shedding just a little light into the bathroom, making three thirty in the afternoon feel a little more romantic than it normally did. Rafe’s fingers spread along her spine and Logan arched into him, breasts pressing lightly into his chest, the hard metal of her piercing contrasting with her soft skin as he deepened the kiss, inhaling sharply through her nose when she gently nudged him with her knee. 

“Ever done it in the shower?”

Rafe nodded, lifting a hand to slide along the base of her throat as she felt the shower wall against her back, a slow moan slipping from her mouth as he squeezed gently, thumb pressing to the middle of her throat. “Could kiss you all day.”

“Please,” Logan breathed against his lips and Rafe groaned, hand flattening out along her back and running along the curve of her spine until he was able to palm the fleshy part of her ass. Water droplets stuck to their eyelashes and Logan lifted a hand to brush some of his hair away from his forehead, her lips grazing his jawline.

She drug her hands down his chest, her gaze following their path as she teased his nipples, eyes shooting to his face to see his reaction before drifting lower, feeling the fine hair below his navel that traveled south. He was hard against her hip, begging for attention and she gave it to him willingly, fingers circling his length before her thumb brushed across his tip, Rafe’s head tilting back breathlessly as she teased him. “I’m so hard, Lo…”

“I know you are,” Logan stroked him slowly, teasingly, as she pressed a light kiss to his collarbones, “you’ve been so patient today.” He nodded, swallowing thickly as she increased the speed and pressure, her own eyes flickering down to see him reddening further, his smooth head just begging for a kiss, “Have you been good, Rafe?”

Rafe’s hips jolted as she cupped his balls and he groaned, arm sliding around her to pull her closer, mouth connecting with her own as he kissed her senselessly. His other hand gently lifted her leg up, locking it along the crease of his elbow before he wrapped his other hand around hers and Logan gasped when he brushed the space between her legs, her body calling to his as he teased her, coating himself in her before he slipped inside. 

The stretch was good at this angle, her head falling back against the shower wall as Rafe eased his way inside of her, his lips attaching to her ear as she adjusted to the size and position, squeezing him tightly to let him know just how much she was enjoying it. “Let me in, baby,” Rafe begged, hips pausing, “you’re so tight.”

Logan closed her eyes, mouth opening to kiss him just as a loud noise sounded from somewhere inside the house, both of them tensing immediately. However, before they were able to respond to the noise or move, another loud sound came from the closed bathroom door. “Let me in!”

JJ sounded just a little frantic and Logan had to shake her head to try to clear it, unsure how to respond with Rafe seated so deep inside of her, filling her so well. “What…?”

“Let me in,” JJ knocked again, “I gotta take a piss. Open the door.”

“I’m literally in the shower!” Logan pressed her forehead to Rafe’s shoulder to muffle her moan as Rafe nudged that spot he loved to tease, “Wait like…twenty minutes.”

Rafe snorted into her neck and Logan drug her hand up his stomach and around his hip, squeezing his ass warningly, her mind briefly drifting to how firm it was as he smiled knowingly down at her. 

“Lo-gan!” JJ whined, “I gotta go and we’re in a hurry!”

“We?” Logan’s voice reached a higher octave as Rafe snapped his hips and she squeezed her eyes closed, a soft pant leaving her mouth as the bathroom door opened. Logan gasped, gripping Rafe’s shoulders as she whipped her head in the direction of the door, glad that they were hidden by the green opaque shower curtain, “What the fuck, JJ?!”

“I gotta piss!” The toilet seat landed loudly against the porcelain tank and the sound of JJ Maybank peeing filled the room next, Logan squeezing her eyes closed, both angry and mortified she was in this situation right now. “It’ll take like three seconds! Relax.”

Rafe’s body vibrated with silent laughter and Logan only rolled her eyes, her body begging her to move, too full with Rafe to think straight. He seemed to read her thoughts or feel the same way, Rafe slowly moving, Logan shaking her head to keep from crying out when he did. She clutched him to her, nails digging into his back to keep him from moving further as she waited for JJ to finish buttoning his shorts, the toilet flushing a moment later, sending freezing cold water through the pipes. Her boyfriend, in all his Kook experience, had clearly never had this happen before, jumping enough that Logan had to knock the shampoo bottle over to keep his startled hiss from being heard by their intruder.

[felassan]

Snippets 🐺💜

Users report that pre-orders they made to TFAW of the DA:TV artbook The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard have been cancelled (since its listings were taken down like Dark Horse's were)

Blair: "The Shadow Dragons have some great black leather combos, less feathers though." [source]. shrl: "The Mourn Watch have leather and skulls." [source]

John: "it's been a pleasure and an honor working on this with you Brian" [source]. Brian: "The feeling is mutual." [source]. Trick: "It's been amazing watching it all come together, and I am so grateful for everything you've done to make that happen." [source]

John: "the day this game ships is the day i will finally retire the sleeved blanket i bought back in 2019" [source]

John: "the wildest thing about being creative director is that about once every two weeks someone says 'hey this bizarre thing here is part of your job can you do it'. and it is a thing that you KNEW someone did but you never thought about which someone. congratulations, you are that someone" [source]

User: "The Evanuris are banished forever, he says. 👀". Trick: "Forever-ish" [source]

John: "me: it’s weird how a lot of fans think I hate Solas, it’s absolutely wild. also me: I should photoshop Solas into the ‘we demand to be taken seriously’ picture" [source]

Carly: "i can see the light at the end of the tunnel, everyone,,,, s o o n 🥴" [source]. / "I honestly can’t wait til we share more !" [source]. / User: "do you ever look at people’s reactions and theories on here like 🙂‍↔️ you people have no idea what’s coming". Carly: "Oh absolutely lmaooo" [source]

Carly: "I deleted it but I posted in our slack like “pls just tell them smtg, the clowns make me sad ):” lolol" [source]. (note: fans have been joking around and calling themselves clowns hhh, in the age-old tradition of DA clowning) "this is me empathizing and feeling bad we aren’t giving as much info (altho epler be goin off), rereading it sounds like I’m going *points* look at how pathetic those clowns are lol" [source]. / "its like we can finally yell about our work but only in limited quantities and basically at the same time fans find out things lolol oh ya and the ea snipers" [source]

Violet: "I might be screaming into the wind, but there's nothing underhanded going on. Release date is coming in August like we already said (so very soon)" / "roadmap will be very soon with some nuggets of what will be coming in August." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Violet: "I made the announcement [in the Discord about Edge magazine's article], and it's kinda damned if you do, damned if you dont. If you do, people that ONLY want the biggest beats get mad. If you don't, people that want any scrap of news get mad. Personally, I think going towards the latter is better overall. But I'm sorry it wasn't what you expected. I am also a DA fan and care enormously about this project." [source: the official BioWare Discord]

User: "How do we all think the companions for Veilguard flirt?". Violet: "depends on the companion fsfs" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Violet: "soon™️" / "(not trying to be a shit, it will be soon! its a holdover joke from my last studio, i have to put the ™️ every time, its a sickness)" / "real talk, im just as feral as you guys when it comes to DA" / "[re: John being aware of a meme] that doesnt surprise me, [John] gets around 👀" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

[prettywordsyouleft]

Country Charm - Farm (Mis)Adventures

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: fluff, slice of life

Tropes: married life, small-town rural setting, cosy cottagecore vibes

Warnings: mild bout of nerves

Word count: 2023

Farm (Mis)Adventures is an ongoing series of snippets of self-indulgent and wholesome life with Park Jinyoung as your husband, turning a somewhat overrun farmstead into your family home and learning to slow down in life after leaving the city grind behind.

Country Charm |

“This is the one.”

Turning to look at your husband, Jinyoung, you felt so overwhelmed. This place had all been but a dream for the longest time. Ever since you were a little girl, you had loved horses and told everyone you’d grow up and live on a farm with your favourite animal. This, coming from someone city-born and bred, used to make the adults around you chuckle with delight at the fervour of your declaration, responding with a “of course you will, sweetie!” that had firmly cemented you’d reach that goal sometime in your life.

Growing into an adult, you slowly realised they had just been placating your passion, yet here you were. Standing next to your husband on the little farmstead of your dreams.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly what you had drawn constantly as a child. The villa home required some updating, the stables were currently only good for storing things in, and the gardens were… well, they were so wild that you couldn’t venture along the pathways around the house. But you could see the charm in the little ten-acre property. The fencing was thankfully updated, and the boundary line was safe enough for you to move your horse Honey in with a little modification. The foundations of the four-bedroom home were solid and built to last, and the beautiful wooden flooring throughout was original. It was within the budget you and Jinyoung had discussed, along with enough to get the kitchen project started. There was ample storage, a conservatory, a small established orchard – the only part not overtaken by the unruly garden – and you could feel yourself settling here. Growing, thriving, and falling further in love with your life and your new husband.

It was your dream, right in front of you.

Something in your expression must’ve captivated your husband because he wasn’t the type to suddenly kiss you in the company of strangers. But he didn’t seem to care for the real estate agent lingering nearby, his face coming closer to yours, his warm eyes searching yours. “You’re certain.”

“This is it,” you repeated, nodding your head softly.

“Alright.”

“Really?” You couldn’t control the bounce in your step, the widening of your gaze, whilst Jinyoung’s eyes crinkled with smug delight. Oh, how he’d hold this moment over you for the rest of your lives. But you didn’t care because he was helping you bring to life your childhood dream. “Oh gosh, you’re not joking? We can put in an offer?!”

“Looks like you’ve won me over to the country charm, Y/N.”

Six weeks later, you were a ball of anxiety as Jinyoung navigated the winding country roads, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You normally drove the horse trailer whenever it was hitched to the SUV, but you were beyond grateful that it was Jinyoung who had taken over this drive. Still, you kept your gaze on the little camera monitor that linked to the box, watching as Honey travelled quietly in the back, uncaring of the horse equipment packed tightly – and very securely, thanks to Jinyoung’s triple-checking – in the partition beside her. You were so close to your new home, and you didn’t know if you had imagined this all up or if you were about to wake up from a beautiful dream.

Surely, moving to your own farm shouldn’t feel this surreal.

“Calm down,” a smooth voice instructed beside you, and you darted your gaze to your husband’s. Jinyoung didn’t remove his eyes from the road, but you could tell he was aware of any minuscule reaction within your wired body. “We’re ten minutes away. She’s travelled like a dream. You, not so much.”

“I’m worried.”

“About?”

“It not being like I remember it looking.”

Due to having to tidy up loose ends back in the city, you had barely managed to make it to the key exchange in time with the real estate out of town before heading back to the city again. You had resigned from your corporate job, and Jinyoung had managed to transfer to the local doctor’s clinic in the small township you were moving into. It was serendipitous that the clinic required a new doctor with one of three now retiring. For now, you weren’t so sure about what you’d be doing. You wondered if that was tying into some of your unease.

“The house will be just as it was. Needing a good clean, renovating, and gardening,” Jinyoung said, smiling softly.

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re worried you saw more than what it was.”

You nodded. “What if the country charm isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be? How will you cope without your favourite coffee shop? And I don’t have an income right now. Honey needs to be fed and--”

His closest hand lifted away from where he’d loosely been holding the bottom of the steering wheel, now warmly encasing yours with firm pressure. Before he could even tell you to breathe, you were inhaling deeply, trying to slow down your anxious thoughts.

“Good girl.”

“I just want this to be everything I’ve always wanted. And for you to be happy here.”

“Baby, I’ll be happy anywhere with you.”

“It doesn’t have air conditioning like our apartment did. And we’re due for that heatwave.”

“I’ll make sure we have fans for now. Don’t worry. Who do you think you married? A clueless guy?”

You smiled warmly then, relaxing into the passenger seat and staring at the man you had married eight months ago. The absolute love of your life, the one person who could drive you so insane, yet had the power to make it all better again with one kiss. Park Jinyoung had been the only man to challenge you over the years, and whilst you had initially found him insufferable upon first meeting, you couldn’t imagine loving anyone but him now.

Your attention turned to the window when Jinyoung slowed down and put on the signal to turn onto your property. This was it. You had bought this place with him. Well, you had been approved for a mortgage and put down a sizeable deposit. It had been quite the process, and yet you were the one who had the keys to this house in your purse.

Jinyoung shared a nervous grin with you as he put the car into park. He leaned over and pecked your lips as he undid his seatbelt, holding out his hand for the keys you were already producing. You watched as he unlocked the main driveway gate, pushing with a little more effort than it should require to get it over a stubborn strip of moss and uneven concrete. You peered out at the overgrown garden running over the fence next to him and let out a laugh. Jinyoung returned to the car with a similar amusement.

“This place is unruly.”

“You should be able to handle that.”

“I married the most stubborn woman I could find, so I guess you’re right,” he teased light-heartedly. Honey whinnied from inside her trailer, and Jinyoung took that as time to move the vehicle up to where they could unload her first.

“Should we have come here and set everything up first before bringing her here?” you wondered aloud, realising the grass would be way too long in any of the paddocks for Honey to be on full-time.

Jinyoung shot you a look. “I told you we should do that. But you wanted our first time here to be the whole family, the horse included.”

You sheepishly ducked your head before getting out of the car. “I’m sure you’ll be the best helper at getting things organised with me.”

Jinyoung grunted non-committedly as you walked down to the trailer to open the back door together. Before you could reach the latch, you were surprised that Jinyoung had jumped the towbar and joined you on your side, wrapping his arms around you from behind and holding you for a moment. “We’re home.”

“We are.”

“It’s going to be exhausting, but worth it.”

You nodded, feeling lighter with his comfort. “You promise you’ll tell me if you hate country life.”

“I got tired of the city grind. Y/N, I’m excited to breathe in fresh air, to not live in a box thirteen stories up and working for a company, instead of for the community. This was the right move for both of us.”

“Well then, should we unload Honey into our new home too?”

Two hours later, you were happy that Honey was settled in her new field. You and Jinyoung had worked on putting up a tape fence to limit how much of the lush grass she peacefully munched on, making sure she could access the field shelter and the water trough you had scrubbed clean. Her things were stored, albeit not to yours or Jinyoung’s best standards, in the stable’s tack shed and feed room, and you were both in need of getting out of the late morning sun.

“Is it strange we’ve been here for two hours, and we’ve not even gone near the house yet?” you asked, and Jinyoung shrugged, reaching into the car for the chilled bag you had packed with lunch foods and drinks before setting out on the road earlier that morning. He then slung his free arm around your shoulders, and you instantly wrapped yourself around his middle.

“Ready to go inside?”

“Remember the real estate agent mentioned the side door by the kitchen is the best way inside. We’ll have to figure out how to unlock the front doors for when the movers come tomorrow with our stuff.”

“Jackson and Sarah will be here by then to help us clear a path for the bigger items to come in,” Jinyoung replied as he unlocked the door then looked at you, the bag he was holding, and inhaled deeply.

“Don’t you dare!”

“It’s customary.”

“You have been working all morning lifting things out of the trailer and car into Honey’s new yard. If you try to pick me up Park Jinyoung, you will break your – JINYOUNG!”

He grunted, almost losing grip of your body. “I mean this in the nicest way, but you’re heavier than I expected.”

“Of course, I am, you idiot! Put me down!”

“Just let me get you over the threshold,” he huffed as you clung to his broad shoulders, worrying about him toppling back with you in his arms.

Thankfully, he got you both inside before ceremoniously dumping you out of his grip as he slumped to the ground beside you panting. You glared at Jinyoung, and he winked, easing some of your disgruntled energy.

“Idiot.”

“Welcome home, Mrs Park.”

“I love you, but there was no need for that,” you scolded softly, wiping yourself off as you got to your feet and looked around the empty entryway.

“Well?” he asked, having picked himself up off his knees, now resting his chin on your shoulders.

“It’s a blank slate.”

“It is not!”

“I know we have a lot of work to do, but it’s blank from the last owner’s possessions. It feels like a great place to start this new chapter, don’t you?”

“Hmm. I think I need to get the Dyson mop out of the car. The floors don’t look very clean.”

“The last owner was eighty-five and moving into his son’s house three hours away. I wasn’t expecting to have a squeaky-clean home. It needs us to do that first clean before our things arrive.”

“I’m sore and tired.”

“Because you lifted me over the threshold!”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “And helped with Honey.”

“Farm life, Jinyoung.”

“Farm Adventures, more like.”

You watched as your husband walked further into the house, taking the right into the kitchen before hearing him yelp in pain.

“A cupboard door was open!”

“Farm Misadventures then?” you called out, hurrying in to find him nursing the side of his head. You couldn’t hide your mirth, even as you replaced his hand with your own, gently rubbing the area and being thankful there had been no immediate bump.

“With you around? Most definitely.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[gliphyartfan]

Masterlist

Timeline Two AU (TTAU):

Sky: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Wild: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Time: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Wind: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Hyrule: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Warriors: Original Here / Rewrite Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Legend: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Twilight: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Four: Original Here / Rewrite Here

(Related Asks):

What Happened to (Y/N)

(TTAU Fanart):

Yandy Draws - Wind

Dree Draws - Wind Comic / Warriors Comic / Legend & Ravio

———

TTAU - SideStories:

Ravio - Part One / Two

Warriors

———

Mafia AU:

Initial Idea

Time: Here

Meeting Bit: Original Here / Rewrite Here

Paintball Tournament: Here

Legend: Here

(Related Asks):

Handling the Real World

What they ride

Tattoos

(Related Fanart Art)

Time:

In Office - Here

Outfit - Here

Warriors:

Outfit - Here

Legend:

Outfit - Here

Four:

Outfit - Here

Dree Design - Here

Piercings - Here

Hyrule:

Outfit - Here

Wind:

Outfit - Here

Wild:

Outfit - Here

Sky:

Outfit - Here

Dree Design - Here

Twilight:

Outfit - Here

First:

Design - Here

Shadow:

Design - Here

Dink:

Design - Here

Ravio:

Design - Here

Comic Fanart (Meeting): Here

————

Anon Asks (Headcanons)

Stockholm Syndrome

Power Bracelets

Not!(Y/N)

Not!(Y/N) - 2

Defects in the Modern World but Attractive in Hyrule

Dark Circles and Curly Hair

Thoughts on Marriage

Where to Settle Down

Hylia in The One to Seal or Curse (Y/N)

Chain and Darling Having a Kid

Tiny Tot

Chain Adopts Reader

Chain Adopts Reader -Fierce Deity

Villain Chain

Zeldas

Sage/Tears, Calamity/Soldier, Koridai, Courage, First, Shadow Headcanons

Dink Headcanons

Chain Obsessed, Reader Knows it/Just Doesn’t Care

Chain’s Favorite Holidays

Reader Who Falls Asleep When Hugged

Reader Knows the Chain Through Modern Media

Four as Roger Rabbit and Reader as Jessica Rabbit

Chain as Horror Movie Slashers on Halloween

Humans are Hylian Space Orcs

——————

Gliphy Writes!

Four’s Reward: Original / Rewrite

Wild Teases (Y/N): Original / Rewrite

Older! Wind and OC (Ava)

Time Hates Scum

Wedding Bit: Original / Rewrite

Wing AU - Wild x Reader Thoughts

Silly Snippet

(Y/N) Hurt and Warriors Punished

Warriors Comforts Sad (Y/N)

Campfire Bit

Sick! (Y/N)

New Years - 2023/ 2024/ 2025

Halloween - 2023/ 2024/ 2025

[jessthebaker]

WIP Wednesday

Holy hell, I just realised three things: it's Wednesday, I have a WIP, and nobody had to tag me to remind me that it's WIP Wednesday. Here's mine, a snippet from my fic for the Writing Through the Seasons challenge as hosted by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality!

This fic is for Dieter in the fall/autumn, with the prompt "are we a moment, or a lifetime?"

--

After a few meetings he works up the nerve to say hello to you afterwards. Swap names over weak shitty coffee in flimsy paper cups. A few more meetings, and he sits next to you. A few more weeks, and he asks you about your project. You smirk (got another one, you think to yourself) and show him what you’re working on.

You ask him, “Do you want to have a go?”

“Uh, yeah, if you trust me not to ruin it.”

You scoff lightly. “Don’t worry about ruining anything, it’s crochet. Whatever you fuck up, I can pull back and fix. Just...play around with it.”

You show him the basic stitches, the way to maneuver the hook and where to place it, how to pull up a loop and draw it through. He’s surprised to find he likes it. He works through your row and you show him how to make a turning chain, encourage him to work back through the next row. A soft cough behind you both makes you jump. It’s the meeting leader giving you the wind-up. It’s time to turn off the lights and lock up. Dieter is surprised to find half an hour has passed in your company.

As you start packing up your project again, you can tell he wants to say something. His eyes are a little wild, his teeth biting at his lip nervously.

“Do you think you could teach me more next week? I think I need something like this. Something to keep - keep the hands busy, you know?”

His hands are always restless, you have noticed this. He’s always fidgeting during meetings, pulling at his coat hems, fiddling with at his pant pockets or the buttons on his lapel, twiddling his earring. Right now as you both stand together, his hands are twitching at his side, making flicking motions as if ashing an invisible cigarette.

“Of course. Come early next week and I’ll show you more.”

--

No pressure tags, seeing as I barely respond to the tags when other people tag me... @schnarfer @covetyou @toomanystoriessolittletime @toomanytookas @bitchwitch1981 @ghotifishreads @goodwithcheese @grogusmum @jolapeno

[urloversdreamgrl]

Order for Orpheus (SydCarmy One Shot)

Have you ever wanted to extend this scene? To see what would happen if Carmen followed after Sydney? 👀 Here's a snippet ⏬️ ⏬️

READ

She barely made it to the locker when he shouted, “Syd!” She couldn’t be bothered to bear and grin it. If any angel was watching over her, they would erase Carmen Anthony Berzatto from her sight. They would give her one moment of reprieve. She could put on her coat, brace the cold ass Chicago nights, and hope the wind takes some of the heat from her cheeks. But there are none looking down. At least none that are on her side.

“Sydney,” his voice was a little softer as he stood at her side. “Can we talk?”

She kept her eyes straight. She didn’t give in, couldn’t give in. No matter how wide his commanding eyes scanned her form, searching for an in. She had none left. This was Sydney at her most pissed off.

“Um, no, Chef,” she strained as she struggled with her zipper. “We cannot. I’m taking off for the night. I would say see you tomorrow, but I don’t know if I will.”

“Uh huh,” he huffed, bringing his fingers to his lips as his eyes wandered to the desolate ceiling. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

All she could do was laugh. Because – truly – what does it all mean? What was she doing? Everyday she dragged her head from her pillow, staring at old posters and boxes filled with failures and regrets. Most mornings didn’t have the sun. And her childhood bedroom smelled like fresh lamb ragu. And she couldn’t remember if she was tearing up because she was tired or because Sheridan Road crumbled through her fingers. 

She still didn’t have her pasta. Everything she tried – the calling, the texting, the moving forward – wasn’t working. Her back was sore. Her feet ached. Her stomach churned. Her zipper wouldn’t fucking cooperate, and his eyes stayed locked onto hers.

Oh, fuck this!

“Uh, it means that you can go back there and enjoy the night with your girlfriend,” she mumbled.

He knitted his eyebrows together, shaking his head in that tell-tale way. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he rationed. “We’ve just been hanging out.”

“Hanging out? Hanging out!” It felt like he slapped her in the face. She wished he had. It would have been better than finally realizing that she’d been building a restaurant for a man who couldn’t give a shit about it. About her. “Wow, Chef. That’s- That’s, um. I’m sorry, but what the fuck,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe if she closed her eyes, clicked her heels, and believed really, really hard, the enigma that is this man would disappear. 

“I’ve been here all day, Carmen. Waiting for you. I’m waiting in front of napkins an-and forks and all the sticky notes screaming that we’re fucked,” her jaws tightened as she tried to keep her voice steady. Keep the rage at bay. Keep the betrayal at bay. Keep the disappointment at bay. She wanted to hold it a little longer. She’d given Carmen everything else. She didn’t want to give him anymore. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, and you’ve been hanging out. And now you want to sit and argue with me–”

“I-I-I don’t want to argue with you, Syd,” he bursted.

“Yeah, dude, I think you do, and I’m not–”

“That’s not what I came here for. You–”

“Oh,” she laughed. “Of course, you didn’t come back here for this. You came to show your girlfriend the restau–”

“No, I– we’re hanging out.”

“Well, I don’t give a fuck, Carmen.”

Their hands stopped. Silence rested on their shoulders. And Richie’s, Natalie’s, and Claire’s as they held their breath in anticipation. His tense face reddened. His eyes bore into hers.

He was listening. Richie, Natalie, and Claire were, too. She was sure of it. But she was running on a ten minute nap and a peanut butter sandwich. She didn’t give a fuck about her volume or the fact that she could see his eyes thinking.

“Syd,” he raised his hands slowly, like he was pacifying a wild animal. "That's not what I came here to do.”

Read the Rest Here 💕